The Runaway Heiress. Anne O'Brien

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ threatened to spill down her cheeks in spite of her resolution to deal with her predicament calmly and rationally. ‘There is no need to be quite so discouraging, my lord.’

      ‘I was trying to be helpful. What can you do?’

      ‘Organise a household. Supervise a kitchen.’ Frances sighed and wiped a finger over her cheek surreptitiously. ‘How dreary it sounds. Do you think I should consider becoming a housekeeper?’

      ‘Certainly not. You are far too young. And who would give you a reference?’

      Frances sniffed and moved from the desk to sit disconsolately on the window seat. ‘Now you understand why my list had not materialised.’

      ‘Miss Hanwell.’ Aldeborough came to stand before her. ‘I hesitate to repeat myself or force myself upon you—something which you apparently find unacceptable—but there really is only one solution. Will you do me the honour of marrying me?’

      She was surprised at the gentleness in his tone, but still shook her head. ‘You are very considerate, but no.’ She closed her mind to the despair that threatened to engulf her. ‘I have an inheritance that will be mine in a month when I reach my majority. That will enable me to be independent so that my life need not be dictated by anyone.’

      ‘How much? Enough to set yourself up in your own establishment?’ Aldeborough’s eyebrows rose and his tone was distinctly sceptical.

      ‘I am not exactly sure, but it was left to me by my mother and I understand it will be sufficient. My uncle’s man of business has the details. It was never discussed with me, you see.’

      ‘But that still does not answer the problem of the scandalous gossip which will result. Your reputation will be destroyed. You will be ostracised by polite society. You must marry me.’

      ‘No, my lord.’ She pleated one of the worn ribbons on her gown with fingers that trembled slightly, but her voice was steady and determined. ‘After all, what does it matter? I have never been presented, or had a Season, and it is not my intention to live in London society. How can gossip harm me?’

      Aldeborough sighed heavily in exasperation, surveying her from under frowning black brows, allowing a silence charged with tension to develop between them. In truth, she was not the wife he would have chosen, brought up under Torrington’s dubious influence, incarcerated in the depths of the country with no fashionable acquaintance or knowledge of how to go on in society. And yet, why not? Her birth was good enough in spite of her upbringing. Certainly she lacked the finer points of a lady’s education, by her own admission, but did that really matter? She appeared to be quick and intelligent and had knowledge of the running of a gentleman’s establishment, albeit threadbare and lacking both style and elegance. Aldeborough watched with reluctant admiration the tilt of her head, the sparkle in her eye as she awaited his decision, and fancied that she would soon acquire the confidence demanded by her position as Marchioness of Aldeborough. She had spirit and courage in abundance, as he had witnessed to his cost, along with a well-developed streak of determination. And, he had to admit, an elusive charm beneath the shabby exterior. The Polite World would gossip, of course, on hearing that a mere Miss Hanwell, a provincial unknown, was to wed the highly eligible Marquis of Aldeborough, but since when had he cared about gossip?

      Besides, as his mother took every opportunity to remind him, perhaps it was time that he took a wife. As he knew only too well, life was cheap—he owed it to his family to secure the succession. If Richard had lived … He deliberately turned away from that line of thought. It did no good to dwell on it.

      But far more importantly, he could not in honour abandon this innocent girl to the consequences of her ill-judged flight. He frowned at her, his expression severe. It was all very well for her to shrug off the social repercussions, but a young girl could be damaged beyond remedy by the cruel and malicious tongues of the ton. It was in his power to save her from social disaster, and duty dictated that he should. It was really as simple as that. Her vulnerability as she sat silently in his library, refusing his offer of marriage, contemplating the prospect of a bleak future alone, touched his heart and his conscience. He had made his decision and he would do all in his power to carry it out. But he feared that to convince the lady in question of the necessity of this marriage would prove a difficult task.

      ‘I do not accept your argument.’ He finally broke the silence, his voice clipped, his tone encouraging no further discussion. ‘You have not thought of the implications and in my experience they could be, shall we say, distressing for you. But I have a meeting with my agent that I must go to—I have already kept him waiting. We will continue this conversation later, Miss Hanwell. Meanwhile, my servants will look after your every need. You have only to ask.’ He lifted a hand to touch her cheek where the dark bruise bloomed against her pale skin, aware of a sudden urge to soothe, to comfort, to smooth away the pain. He drew back as she flinched and wished that she had not.

      ‘No further discussion is necessary, I assure you, sir. I would not wish to keep you from your agent.’ She tried for a smile without much success, hoping that her pleasure from his touch did not show itself on her face.

      ‘You are very obstinate, Miss Hanwell. How can you make any plans when you have nothing but the clothes you stand up in?’

      She could find no answer to this depressingly accurate statement, and merely shook her head.

      ‘I must go.’ Aldeborough possessed himself of her hand and raised it to his unsmiling lips. He left the library in a sombre mood. He did not expect gratitude from her, of course—after all, he had to admit, apparently, that he had some role in the disaster—but he did expect some co-operation. His sense of honour demanded that he put right the desperate situation that he had so unwittingly helped to create.

      Chapter Three

      ‘Lady Torrington has called, ma’am. I have explained to her that his lordship is unavailable, but she has insisted on seeing you. I have shown her into the drawing room.’ Rivers, Aldeborough’s butler, bowed, his face expressing fatherly concern. ‘Do you wish to see her, ma’am?’

      Frances felt her blood run cold in her veins and a familiar sense of panic fluttered in her stomach. Since Aldeborough’s departure to keep his appointment with Kington she had enjoyed a number of solitary hours in which to contemplate her present situation. It had made depressing contemplation. Mrs Scott had provided her with a light luncheon, which she had no appetite to eat, and she was now taking advantage of his lordship’s extensive library. Her education might have been limited, but she had been free to make use of her uncle’s otherwise unused collection of books and normally Aldeborough’s possessions would have been a delight. But not even a magnificently illustrated tome on plants and garden design, which should in other circumstances have enthralled her, had the power to deflect her mind from the present disaster.

      ‘Will you see Lady Torrington, miss?’ Rivers repeated as Frances hesitated.

      ‘Yes. Of course,’ she stammered. On one thing she was adamant. As she had informed Aldeborough, she would not go back to Torrington Hall. So the sooner she confronted her aunt, the better.

      ‘And shall I bring tea, ma’am?’ Rivers enquired. ‘You might find it a useful distraction.’ His smile held a depth of understanding.

      ‘Yes, please.’ She smiled shyly. ‘You are very kind.’

      Frances found Viscountess Torrington seated before the fire in the drawing room. Encouraged by Rivers’s tacit support, she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and advanced into the room. Its furnishings paid СКАЧАТЬ