The Runaway Heiress. Anne O'Brien

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ they perceived as a mésalliance, surely they would not be so cold-hearted as to abandon her only daughter in her hour of need. Frances knew that it was a risk, but she would have to take it. London must be her first objective and here she saw the possibility of asking the help of the Rector of Torrington. If nothing else, he might, in Christian charity, be persuaded to lend her the money to buy a seat on the mailcoach.

      So, having made her plan, determinedly closing her mind to all the possibilities for disaster, Frances continued to tread softly down the great staircase. She reached the foot, with its carved eagles on the newel posts, with a sigh of relief. All the doors were closed. There was an edge of light under the library door but there was no sound. Frances pulled up her hood, turned towards the door which led to the kitchens and sculleries and tiptoed silently across. Soon she would be free.

      ‘Good evening, Miss Hanwell.’

      Frances dropped her bandbox with a clatter and whirled round, her breath caught in her throat. Aldeborough was framed in silhouette, the light behind him, in the doorway of the library. In spite of the hour he was still elegantly dressed, although stripped of his coat, and held a glass of brandy in one hand. Her eyes widened with shock and she was conscious only of the blood racing through her veins, her heart pounding in her chest. Aldeborough placed his glass on a side table with a sharp click that echoed in the silence, then strolled across the expanse between them. He bent and with infinite grace picked up her bandbox.

      ‘Perhaps I can be of assistance?’ he asked smoothly.

      Frances found her voice. ‘You could let me go. You could forget you have seen me.’ Her voice caught in her throat, betraying her fear. She tried not to shrink back from him against the banister, from the controlled power of his body and the dark frown on his face. Memories forced their ugly path into her mind, resisting her attempts to blot them out.

      ‘I could, of course, but I think not.’ Aldeborough held out his hand imperatively. She felt compelled by the look in his eyes to obey him and found herself led to the library, where he released her and closed the door behind her.

      ‘You appear to be making a habit of running away. Might I ask where you were planning to go?’ he enquired. ‘Surely not back to Charles!’

      ‘I will never go back to that house!’ Frances replied with as much dignity as she could muster in the circumstances. ‘I had decided to go to the Rector of Torrington for help.’

      ‘And how were you intending to get there?’ He allowed his eyebrows to rise.

      ‘Walk.’

      ‘For ten miles? In the pitch black along country roads?’

      ‘If I have to.’ She raised her head in defiance of his heavy sarcasm.

      ‘I had not realised, Miss Hanwell, that marriage to me could be such a desperate option. Clearly I was wrong.’

      Frances could think of no reply, intimidated by the ice in his voice.

      He dropped her ill-used bandbox on to the floor and approached her, raising his hands to relieve her of her cloak. Her reaction was startling and immediate. She flinched from him, raising her arm to shield her face, retreating, stumbling against a small table so that a faceted glass vase fell to the floor with a crash, the debris spraying over the floor around her feet. She turned her head from him and buried her face in her hands, unable to stifle a cry of fear as the dark memories threatened to engulf her.

      ‘What is it? What did I do?’ Aldeborough’s brows snapped together. Frances shook her head, unable to answer as she fought to quell the rising hysteria and calm her shattered breathing.

      ‘Forgive me. I had no intention of frightening you.’ He grasped her shoulders in a firm hold to steady her, aware that she was trembling uncontrollably, when an unpleasant thought struck him.

      ‘You thought I was going to hit you, didn’t you? What have I ever done to suggest that I would use violence against you?’ There was anger as well as shock in his voice. ‘Tell me.’ He gave her shoulders a little squeeze in an effort to dislodge the blank fear in her eyes. It worked, for she swallowed convulsively and was able to focus on his concerned face.

      ‘It’s just that once I tried to run away,’ she managed to explain. ‘It was a silly childish dream that I might escape. But I was caught, you see … and …’

      ‘And?’

      ‘My uncle punished me—whipped me—for disobedience. He said I was ungrateful and I must be taught to appreciate what I had been given. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to …’ Her voice trailed away into silence, her expression one of utmost desolation.

      Aldeborough gently removed her cloak from her now-unresisting body. He steered her away from the shards of glass, scattered like crystal tears on the polished wood, and pushed her into a chair before the dying embers of the fire. He poured a little brandy into a glass and handed it to her.

      ‘Here. Drink this. Don’t argue, it will make you feel better—it’s good for shock amongst other things. Although, from experience, I do not advise it as an aid to helping you forget.’ The touch of sardonic humour at his own expense allowed Frances to relax a little and do as she was told. ‘Now, tell me—what did you expect the Rector to be able to do for you that I couldn’t?’

      She sipped the brandy again, which made her eyes water, but at least it stilled the shivering. ‘I thought that he would lend me some money to enable me to reach London where I could make contact with my relations,’ she explained.

      ‘But you told me you didn’t have any.’

      ‘It is my mother’s family.’ She was once more able to command her voice and her breathing. ‘They disowned her, you understand, when she married my father. They thought he was a fortune hunter and too irresponsible, so they cut all contact.’

      ‘Your father, I presume, was Torrington’s younger brother. I never knew him.’

      ‘Yes. Adam Hanwell. I remember nothing of him—he died when I was very young.’

      ‘And your mother?’

      ‘She was Cecilia Mortimer. She died just after I was born. That’s why I was brought up at Torrington Hall and Viscount Torrington is my guardian.’

      ‘As I understand it, the Mortimers are related to the Wigmore family.’

      ‘Yes. My grandfather was the Earl of Wigmore. I hoped the present Earl would not abandon me entirely if he knew I was in trouble. I believe he is my cousin. Do you think he would?’

      ‘I have no idea. And I cannot claim to be impressed by your plan.’ Aldeborough ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. ‘If they refuse to recognise you, you will be left standing outside their town house in Portland Square, with no money and no acquaintance in London. Or what if they are out of town and the house is shut up? Do you intend to bivouac on their doorstep until they return? It is a crazy scheme and you will do well to forget it.’

      ‘It’s no more crazy than you forcing me into a marriage I do not want!’ Frances was stung into sharp reply. ‘You have no right to be so superior!’

      ‘I have every right. There is no point in making the situation worse than it is already.’

      Frances sighed. ‘It seemed СКАЧАТЬ