An Heiress at Heart (10 page)

Forced to stop at a busy street corner, he waited for a
break in the stream of carts and carriages, still pondering their acrimonious exchange about love and duty. While he stood there, a crossing sweeper boy approached him. “A penny clears the path for you, good sir.” The boy couldn’t have been more than twelve. His face was black with dust and his clothes were filthy. He held a battered broom in one hand; the other was outstretched for money.

Geoffrey was more than capable of making his way across the street without help, but he had a desire to help the lad. He reached into his pocket and gave the boy double what he asked. To cover his act of charity he said sternly, “Quickly, if you please.”

The boy’s face lit up. “Yes, sir!” Imitating a soldier, he saluted and added, “At the double!” He dashed into the street, pushing his broom expertly, dodging horses and vehicles, clearing a path through the debris and animal dung.

While Geoffrey waited, a carriage pulled up next to him and a woman’s shrill voice cried, “Lord Somerville! Is that you?”

He knew that voice. It was loud enough to be heard in three counties. It belonged to Lady Cardington—one of the many fine matrons with marriageable daughters who had been hounding Geoffrey since his return to London.

A comparison arose in his mind between Ria and Lady Cardington’s eldest daughter, Lucinda. She was a wan young lady, pleasant enough, but painfully awkward in polite society and completely pliable to her mother’s wishes.

The exact opposite of Ria.

Geoffrey pushed these thoughts from his mind. He acknowledged Lady Cardington with a bow, even as he
regretted having accepted the street sweeper’s services. As they exchanged the standard greetings, he was grateful for the litany of civilities that crowded everyday life. It prevented him from having to think of anything genuine to say.

He had a dim hope that a few words would be enough, and that Lady Cardington would not linger. However, he resigned himself to the inevitable when she signaled to her footman to help her descend. She would speak to him further, and he, being a gentleman, had no choice but to remain.

Getting Lady Cardington down from the carriage was no easy feat, for she was a portly woman. Geoffrey was impressed by how smoothly her footman managed it. No doubt he’d had a lot of experience. Geoffrey had never seen a woman who was so large and yet so constantly in motion.

Once she was set down, the footman closed the carriage door and retreated. Lady Cardington smiled at Geoffrey. He suppressed a grimace, knowing what was to come.

“How fortunate that I should see you, Lord Somerville! I have not yet received your reply to our invitation for the charity gala. I do hope you have had an opportunity to consider it?” The loose folds under Lady Cardington’s chin wiggled as she nodded her head up and down.

“Indeed I have.” Geoffrey served on the board of directors for the organization that would profit by this gala. His involvement most likely influenced Lady Cardington’s choice, rather than the worthiness of the cause. She was looking for another chance to parade her daughter in front of him.

“I apologize for my delay in responding,” Geoffrey said. “I have been somewhat deluged of late.”

Indeed,
deluged
was the correct word. Ria had come upon him like a sudden storm, and he found himself without shelter from the flood of her effects.

“So I hear.” Lady Cardington’s look turned confidential, and she lowered her voice. “Is it true that the widow of your brother Edward—God rest his soul—has returned to London?”

Her words stunned Geoffrey. He had known there would be gossip, of course, but had little realized how quickly it would spread. Lady Cardington had used the word
widow
, so the reason for Ria’s return was already known.

There was no point in denying it. He had no doubt everyone would soon know the truth for certain. “Yes, it is true.”

“Please allow me to express my deepest condolences on your loss.” Lady Cardington’s face twisted as she did her best to emulate grief.

Geoffrey was not fooled. The lady must be overjoyed at this news. It removed any lingering doubts about his standing in the peerage. Most likely she would press her daughter’s suit even harder. The emphasis on social status and the cold-blooded marriage market that was known as London’s social season sickened him. “Thank you, Lady Cardington. You are very kind.”

“Of course, I am so relieved to hear that Mrs. Somerville has returned safely.”

Geoffrey had not thought of Ria as “Mrs. Somerville” until now. It was disconcerting to think that now he must be forced to hear that appellation whenever someone
made mention of her—which was bound to be often. He cleared his throat and managed to say coolly, “Yes, we are all thankful to divine Providence that she has come home.”

“What a time she must have had in that wretched, uncivil place!” Lady Cardington’s jowls wagged as she shook her head. “And to lose her husband, too. But am I right in understanding that some time has passed? I have heard that she is nearly out of mourning.”

“Yes. It has been nearly two years since…”

He could not bring himself to finish the sentence. For once, he thought he saw a glimmer of genuine sadness in Lady Cardington’s face. A tear glistened in her eye, and she gave him a sympathetic look. Perhaps social climbing had not managed to wholly squelch her more tender instincts.

In an instant it was gone. “I have, of course, added Mrs. Somerville to the invitation list for the ball,” she said, as though he would be glad to hear this.

Ria at the ball? In society? “She has been ill,” Geoffrey said. “Despite the time that has passed, she still mourns her husband deeply.” There could be no doubt of that, Geoffrey added to himself, feeling an odd pang as he remembered the way she’d spoken of Edward.

“She cannot sequester herself forever. She is still young. Getting out can only do her good.”

Geoffrey suspected that once again Lady Cardington was covering her more selfish plans under the guise of doing good. She might want to ask Ria all manner of impertinent questions about her life in Australia.

“I am not the only one who thinks so,” Lady Cardington added. “In fact, I have heard that she has also
been invited to Lord Beauchamp’s ball at the end of the month.”

Apparently no one in London had wasted any time in issuing invitations to the exotic new arrival. For a moment he was almost sorry for Ria, knowing the intense scrutiny she was about to undergo.

With this realization came the clear certainty that he must speak to her again soon, before people like Lady Cardington could get hold of her. Perhaps he could give her some guidance—help her navigate the waters which were more treacherous than any ocean. Lady Thornborough might have the foresight to offer similar advice; nevertheless, Geoffrey felt he had firsthand knowledge to offer in a way that the long-established society matron did not.

As he reflected on these things, Geoffrey concluded that he must be at Lady Cardington’s charity gala for the same reason, and told her he would be most honored to attend. Having been thus appeased both in her curiosity about Ria and her desire to bring Geoffrey to her home, Lady Cardington lost no time in departing.

As he watched the carriage pull away, Geoffrey tried once more to place his thoughts about Ria into some kind of coherent order. Trouble was, she crowded his thoughts so completely that finding any way to arrange them was nearly impossible. Something in her look and her manner kept perplexing him. She seemed almost to be two separate people, with her defiant pluck and self-reliance warring against something more vulnerable and uncertain.

Hadn’t he been going through something of the same thing himself? He’d been pulled from the country backwaters into the pressures and expectations of the peerage.
He knew he’d been the subject of endless discussion and speculation. Perhaps he understood Ria better than he had at first believed.

He still took issue at many of the things she had said. And yet, how could he not extend Christian charity to a member of his own family?

Her marriage to his brother had bound them together. He should find a way to help her in her new life. A few minutes ago he had left in anger, wishing only to put distance between them. Now he realized he wanted very much to see her again—and soon.

There were still plenty of reasons why to be sorted out. But he would have to trust to the Lord and go one step at a time.

                                                          
Chapter 10

R
ia, my dear, are you sure you are feeling well?” Lady Thornborough was studying her from across the breakfast table. “Shall I call the doctor?”

Lizzie set down her fork, her food untouched on the plate before her. She was brooding over yesterday’s meeting with Geoffrey. Although Lady Thornborough had attributed her listlessness to a physical complaint, it was merely an illustration of her vexed heart. “I’m fine, Grandmamma. A doctor will not be necessary.”

The butler entered, carrying a silver tray with a small stack of letters on it. Still keeping a concerned eye on Lizzie, Lady Thornborough scanned the letters before choosing one to open. A footman hovered at Lizzie’s elbow with more tea, and she nodded at him to refill her cup. To allay any further questioning from Lady Thornborough, Lizzie picked up her fork and made another effort to eat.

She could not stop thinking of yesterday’s meeting. She had defended Edward and Ria as passionately as if
she had truly lived their life, not merely viewed it from the vantage point of a friend. Was she truly losing herself so completely in the role of Ria? It was her goal, and she should be relieved that it was coming to pass. Yet it left her anxious and unsettled.

The eggs were no doubt cooked to perfection, but they were not sitting well in Lizzie’s stomach. She gave up all attempts at eating, and settled for a sip of tea. She would have loved a more bracing cup of coffee, but Ria had always abhorred it and so Lizzie made do with the tea.

Her lackluster movements were not lost on James, who was sitting beside her. “You are looking rather peaked this morning, cousin. I’ve noticed that Geoffrey has that effect on people.”

He
would
bring it up, Lizzie thought darkly. Of course he would. Lizzie had gone straight to her room after Geoffrey’s abrupt departure, requesting to be left alone to rest. James and Lady Thornborough had complied, but Lizzie suspected neither of them was going to let the matter rest for long.

Sure enough, Lady Thornborough looked up from the letter she was reading and said, “For once, James has gone to the heart of the matter. You are distressed at the harsh words you exchanged with Lord Somerville yesterday.”

What had truly distressed Lizzie were Geoffrey’s callous words. “You heard what he said yesterday about Edward!” she exclaimed. “How could I let his remarks go unchallenged?”

“You must remember that he has just learned of his brother’s death,” Lady Thornborough remonstrated. “His
grief is still fresh. I have no doubt he will see things differently in time, and regret his bitter words. As will you.” She reached out to pat Lizzie’s hand. “You must mend the rift that is between you. He is your brother-in-law, after all, and you must not forget how important he is.”

“Important? Do you mean because he’s a peer?”

“Yes. You have married into a titled family. Even as a widow, this will help you in your return to society.” She indicated the letter in her hand. “You have already been included in the invitations.”

“Invitations have arrived for
me
?” Lizzie asked incredulously. “How could that be?”

“The news of your return has already spread all over town.” Lady Thornborough looked pointedly across the table at James as he calmly dropped a lump of sugar into his coffee, his face a picture of innocence. “Therefore, we must act. If you feel strong enough, I should like for you to accompany me today on a few morning calls.”

Morning calls. Ria had enjoyed such visits, but to Lizzie it sounded like little more than trotting around from house to house for short, meaningless conversations with pompous society women. Lizzie knew she might be called upon to do this, but she had hoped it would not be so soon. “But I do not know these women,” she objected.

“Precisely. It’s time you did. Lord Beauchamp’s ball is just a fortnight away, and things will go more smoothly for you if introductions have already been made.”

Lizzie’s earlier unease was now erased by alarm. Morning calls were one thing, but a formal ball was another matter altogether. She had expected her status as a widow would delay her having to appear at the grander social events. She needed time to establish herself, to learn the
finer points of living as a woman of high status. The sooner she went out, the more likely she would be to make some gaffe that could give her away. “But Grandmamma,” she protested, “I couldn’t possibly go out so soon.”

“I know what’s troubling you,” Lady Thornborough said. “You are concerned that others will feel there is some impropriety involved. However, Edward has been dead for nearly two years. No one can accuse you of not spending enough time in mourning.” Her look was sympathetic, despite the pragmatism of her words. “It is perfectly respectable for a young widow to go back into society after such a space of time.”