An Heiress at Heart (20 page)

Brightly lit crystal chandeliers cheerfully laid out everything before her: from the velvet-seated chairs lining the long walls to the additional doors that opened to yet more rooms filled, as far as Lizzie could see, with food-laden tables. Even during her ill-fated months with Freddie, she had never been to an event as magnificent as this. She had never had an entire assembly of gentlemen and ladies looking at her—her!—with such admiration.

“What a crush!” Lady Thornborough murmured.

James looked over the crowd with the air of a king.

“Would you care to wave to your subjects?” Lizzie teased.

James smirked. “Perhaps later. If they are worthy.”

They began descending the stairs at a regal pace, with Geoffrey and Lady Thornborough in the lead. Near the bottom of the stairs, Lizzie spotted a half-dozen or so young ladies whom she’d met during her calls with Lady Thornborough. Not surprisingly, they were whispering to one another and sending brilliant smiles in Geoffrey’s direction—clearly doing their best to attract the catch of the season. A crazy stab of envy went through her as she realized that they were all quite fetching. Except perhaps for Miss Lucinda Cardington, who was a trifle too red in the face and fanning herself, looking exceedingly uncomfortable.

Miss Emily Cardington was the only lady who had eyes for anyone other than Geoffrey. She peered coyly at James from behind her fan, her eyes shining. Lizzie was dismayed to see James returning the girl’s interest with fascination, although at the moment he could do no more
than give her a smile and a genial nod. Emily would be out of her depths with him, Lizzie thought. Perhaps she should offer Emily some sage advice. She had no time to reflect on this, however, as they were met at the bottom of the stairs by their host and hostess.

“Lord and Lady Beauchamp, I am so happy to be able to present my granddaughter to you this evening,” Lady Thornborough said. The pride in her voice was unmistakable, and it quickly brought Lizzie back to the reason she was here. It was time to do her very best to look, act, and
be
Ria.

Lady Beauchamp, a tall, willowy woman, took Lizzie’s hand and said warmly, “How delightful to see you again!”

Again? When had Ria seen her? Under what circumstances? Lady Thornborough had said nothing to indicate there had been a previous acquaintance. Lizzie was aware that she was creating an uncomfortable pause as she tried to think of a response.

“Perhaps you do not remember me,” Lady Beauchamp said, perceiving Lizzie’s discomfort. “You were only a child the last time we met. Your father brought you to our estate in Lincolnshire, where we had planned a day of riding.”

Lizzie’s relief at being thus rescued by Lady Beauchamp was quickly overtaken by surprise. Ria hated horses. She never rode, and was uncomfortable even being near them. Edward had often voiced disappointment when Ria steadfastly refused his entreaties to give her lessons.

“The day did not go well,” Lady Beauchamp said. “Perhaps you have blocked it from your memory. We put
you on Blue Moon, the very gentlest mare we had, but somehow she bucked and nearly threw you off. You were crying and panicking and clinging to that saddle for dear life. Your father managed to get you off the mare, but as I recall, it was a good hour before we could calm you down.”

Ria had not related this event to Lizzie, although it was well in line with a remark she once made.
“They are horrid beasts,”
she had said.
“They take one look at me and they just know it’s time to have it out. We both keep our distance, and it’s a good thing, too.”

However, for the first time Lizzie decided not to repeat Ria’s words. For all their similarities, here was one great difference between them. Lizzie was born to ride. Australia had been a land of far too much grief, to be sure. But it was also where she’d ridden a horse for the very first time. She’d taken to it instinctively. It was pure exhilaration to race across the vast grasslands; giving her endless delight and the feeling of absolute freedom. No, she could not give that up. Not for anything. Perhaps, she thought impulsively, it was time for “Ria” to get over her abhorrence of horses. “It is true that horses and I, ah, disliked each other at that time, but—”

“Disliked!” James interjected with a snort. “You were at
war
!”

“Let’s just say that during my time in Australia, I was able to arrange a truce. I did some riding there, actually.”

It was an enormous risk, she knew, to move in a direction so contrary to Ria’s nature. She did not miss Lady Thornborough’s look of utter disbelief. But how could she give up riding? She must convince them that, in this one point at least, Ria had changed.

James eyed her curiously. “Cousin,” he said with a smile, “I will have to believe that when I see it.”

Geoffrey did not look as skeptical as the others. Rather, he looked impressed. “I have an excellent stable of horses, and the countryside around my estate has some lovely paths. Perhaps one day soon we might ride together.”

Now Lizzie knew she had made the right decision. What a delight it would be to ride side by side with Geoffrey along a country lane or over a green meadow. “That would be wonderful!” she exclaimed. “When can we go?”

This came out with such artless sincerity that it caused Lady Thornborough to smile. “My dearest Ria,” she said. “Unpredictable as ever.”

Buoyed by this victory, Lizzie supposed there would be nothing she couldn’t handle this evening.

Lord and Lady Beauchamp moved on to greet other guests. Geoffrey, too, was obliged to leave them for a while, explaining that with so many of London’s deepest pockets gathered in one place, it was the perfect opportunity for him to make beneficial connections for his charity.

And so Lizzie followed James and Lady Thornborough into the current of people as easily as a twig moving into a stream, happily enduring countless introductions and growing more confident as the evening progressed.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lady Thornborough asked her later, once they had found a moment’s leisure to sit and watch the dancing. “Are you glad you came out tonight?”

“Oh, yes,” Lizzie answered without hesitation. “Everyone has been so kind.” Despite Geoffrey’s gloomy predictions that she would be scrutinized like an animal in
a cage, most people had been politely respectful, offering condolences about Edward and asking only very general questions about her time in Australia.

James had been dancing with a pretty young debutante, and when the dance was over, he led his partner over to meet them. “Do you remember Miss Fitzroy, the little terror who always seemed to be hiding behind the sofa whenever you and the elder Miss Fitzroy attempted to share confidences?”

This bizarre introduction sent Miss Fitzroy into giggles.

“Of course I remember,” Lizzie said. “And shame on you, James, for providing such an inelegant introduction.” In truth, she was thankful that James kept unwittingly providing the kind of information that enabled her to put faces to the names Ria had given her. “And how is your sister? Is she here?” Lizzie knew she would have to speak to Ellen Fitzroy if she was here tonight, since Ellen and Ria had once been friends.

“She is married now, and at home awaiting the arrival of her fourth child.”

“Fourth!” Lizzie exclaimed. “How wonderful for them.” She was relieved, too, that this would be one “acquaintance” she would not have to renew this evening. In fact, everything tonight had been surprisingly easy.

The orchestra struck up a waltz. “Please excuse me,” Miss Fitzroy said, “but I must be going. I’ve promised this dance to Mr. Spencer.”

“I’ll take you to him,” James offered. “More than likely we’ll find him at the punch table.”

Lizzie watched as they skirted the dance floor to reach one of the adjoining rooms.

Lady Thornborough said, “We must also find you a dance partner, Ria.”

“I think I would like that,” Lizzie replied. She was truly enjoying herself this evening, in a lighthearted way that she had not experienced for a long time.

And then she heard Geoffrey’s voice behind her. “Will I suffice?”

Lizzie turned around. How had she gone almost an entire hour without thinking about this man? Now as he stood there, looking alarmingly handsome, she could think of little else. His dark eyes and the fine cut of his jaw took her breath away. He flashed one of his rare smiles and extended his hand.

Her heart lost several beats as she felt the warmth of his touch through her thin gloves. A joyous, heady feeling pulsed through her—one she had not known for too many years. Yes, she would dance. How had she even considered not coming tonight? How had she not realized she might have given up an opportunity to be in his arms again—if only for a dance?

He led her through the crowd. Lizzie was aware of curious and admiring glances as they passed. When they reached the center of the dance floor, Geoffrey turned to her and rested his hand confidently on the small of her back, setting her alight with anticipation. She brought her hand up to his shoulder, marveling again at how broad it was, and looked into his eyes.

And then they began to dance.

It was the easiest thing in the world to follow Geoffrey’s lead. Her steps melted into his as they joined the rhythm of the music. In no time they were gliding expertly around the room as though they had practiced
for years. Moving so effortlessly, so beautifully, the whole time Geoffrey’s eyes never leaving her face. Perhaps she had had too much punch as well, for she became giddy and light-headed as they swirled around the floor. Geoffrey was a fine dancer. Yet another anomaly of this clergyman turned peer. How many other surprises did he hold? She fervently hoped she would have the opportunity to find out. She felt her heart slipping away to this man more and more with each encounter.

Gradually Lizzie became aware that she and Geoffrey were beginning to receive more than just a few casual glances. “I do believe,” she murmured, “that everyone is staring at us.” She had leaned in to say this, and now felt the heat of his cheek, so close to hers.

“Does it make you uncomfortable? Do you wish to stop?”

“No,” she breathed. “I wish never to stop.”

He laughed and whirled her again, and she gave herself up to the pleasure of it. She reveled in the music that moved her soul, in the thrill of being in Geoffrey’s arms, in the pleasing sound of his laughter, in the way everything and everyone blurred to a delightful palette of colors as they kept time with the waltz and the beating of her own heart.

It was a perfect night. There was no one in the room but her and Geoffrey; everyone else had faded away, indistinct…

Until she saw Freddie.

Lizzie staggered, tripping over Geoffrey as her feet came down in the wrong place.

It couldn’t be. It was impossible. Freddie Hightower was dead—Tom had killed him.

She tried desperately to find air, but there was none left in the room. She saw no colors now—only white spots before her eyes.

“Ria, what is the matter?” Geoffrey asked anxiously.

This could not be happening. They had been moving so quickly that her vision must have become distorted. She had only imagined she had seen Freddie. Lizzie willed herself to remain calm and opened her eyes.

Geoffrey held her, his arms providing steadiness and reassurance while Lizzie tried to regain her bearings. She hazarded a look past Geoffrey’s shoulder. She was facing the side of the room where the small orchestra was sitting. She thought she had seen Freddie leaning against a door to one of the parlors. She would have to move, to force herself to turn and look in that direction, to prove to herself that she had been mistaken. She brought her gaze back to Geoffrey’s face. “I do feel a bit light-headed. I should perhaps sit down.”

“Of course.”

She kept her eyes straight ahead as they navigated through the dancers to a row of chairs. When they were seated, Lizzie opened her fan and began fanning herself. “I only need a moment,” she said apologetically.

Geoffrey nodded, waiting patiently. Lizzie finally worked up enough courage to peek over her fan and look across the room.

There he was, looking at her so intently that he might have started a fire with the heat of his gaze.

Freddie Hightower was alive.

                                                          
Chapter 20

A
n icy horror settled over her. She was looking at Freddie Hightower—how was this possible?

He stood unmoving, his eyes fastened on her with a ferocity she had seen countless times. Impossible to forget.

“Shall I find you a glass of punch?” Geoffrey asked.

“No!” Lizzie shrieked. She saw the alarm in his eyes and the tension in his body, and she forced herself to take a deep breath and speak calmly. She must not let him see that anything was amiss. “Please don’t go. Not just yet.”

He patted her arm solicitously. “As you wish.”

Freddie strode toward them. It took time to work his way across the crowded room, but his eyes were fixed on them, stalking them like prey. Lizzie’s mind was whirling in a thousand directions at once. How was he here? Clearly he had recognized her as easily as she had him. Could she convince him she was someone else? Everything Ria had ever shared about her life threatened to
dissolve from Lizzie’s brain in the heat of Freddie’s gaze. He could expose her. And he would do it in a heartbeat.