The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love.

by Buck, Gayle

  “Why don’t you, then?” asked Cardiff politely. He was not really interested, but it occurred to him that it would serve him best not to antagonize his captors. If he drew them out to talk about themselves, there might come a moment when both were lulled to inattention and he could take the chance of wresting the pistol away.

  “Papa will not hear of our enlisting. We are his heirs,” said Thomas gloomily.

  His brother’s expression lengthened, reflecting an equal melancholy. However, Philip did not lose sight of who their audience was. “Do keep quiet, Thomas. His lordship cannot possibly care one way or the other.”

  A particle of interest stirring, Cardiff looked from one sturdily built young man to the other. “Both of you are your father’s heirs? I don’t see how—”

  “Twins,” said Thomas succinctly on a deep sigh. “Philip is actually the eldest by five minutes. He won’t sign up on account of being Papa’s firstborn, and I won’t go if he doesn’t. So here we are.”

  “Yes; here we are,” agreed Cardiff, a peculiar smile flickering across his face.

  “It would be far better for you both to be shot by the French than to be hung as common criminals,” said Thea tartly. She couldn’t recall ever being so put out with her brothers and it seemed appropriate to point out the difference between the heroic action that she knew they longed for and the ignoble fate they flirted with.

  “Yes,” agreed Thomas morosely. “But we’ll not get near the French armies, so I expect that we’ll hang.”

  “No, we shan’t,” said Philip forcibly.

  At once Thea leaped to a happy assumption. She turned shining eyes on her brother. “Oh, I knew I could not be altogether mistake in you! Do you mean that you will let Lord Cardiff go?” A dazzling smile lit her face. “Oh, Philip, I am so glad! And I am persuaded that his lordship will not press charges against either of you, will you, my lord?”

  “Wait!” said Philip, but he went unheeded by any of the others.

  Thus appealed to by Miss Stafford to spare her brothers, Lord Cardiff agreed that he would not have them arrested,

  “Why, that is handsome of you, my lord,” said Thomas gratefully. “In that case, I don’t mind apologizing to you for any inconvenience suffered, I assure you.”

  “Quite well said, Mr. Stafford,” said Cardiff affably. He stretched out his bound wrists suggestively. “Now, if you will be so kind?”

  Thomas started to reach forward to oblige Lord Cardiff, but Philip stopped him by grabbing at his shoulder and exclaiming, “No!”

  Thomas swiveled his head and stared round at his brother. “What’s toward, Philip?”

  “Don’t untie his lordship.”

  Cardiff stiffened slightly, every fiber of his being alert. An ominous interpretation of Philip Stafford’s words at once resonated through his consciousness. He straightened on the seat, gathering his limbs in taut readiness.

  “Don’t untie his lordship?” repeated Thomas with a heavy, puzzled frown.

  “That is what I said,” said Philip, nodding resolutely.

  “But you said you are going to let Lord Cardiff go,” said Thea quickly.

  Thomas nodded. “That’s what it sounded like to me, Philip.”

  “But that isn’t what I meant at all,” said Philip, his testy tone underscored by his scowling expression.

  “Then what did you mean, sir? I just inquire, you understand, because it does have some bearing on my future,” said Cardiff quietly.

  “There’s no need for sarcasm, my lord,” said Philip with what dignity he could muster.

  “His lordship has the right of it, Philip. He should know what you do mean so he can know what to expect,” said Thomas reprovingly. “And so should I, for how am I to understand what we should do otherwise?”

  “Well, I shall explain it to you,” said Philip. “I have thought it all out.”

  Cardiff made a show of settling himself back against the squabs with a sigh. His body, however, was actually tensed for action. “Pray continue, sir. It will pass the time, in any event.”

  Stung by Lord Cardiff’s casual attitude, Philip Stafford flushed. He started to say something sharp, but with difficulty caught it back. Ignoring Lord Cardiff, he addressed his brother. “If we let Lord Cardiff go and throw ourselves on his mercy, once safely away his lordship could still lay information against us. We could still be hanged.”

  Thomas looked much struck. Frowning, he said, “That is true.”

  “My word of honor on it. I shall not lay information against you if you will loose me,” said Cardiff swiftly.

  “There you are, Philip,” said Thea. She had been narrowly eyeing her brother. There was a peculiar light in his eyes that she could not read. The uncertainty and panic that had characterized him earlier had disappeared, leaving in its wake a determined cast to his features that made her feel uneasy. “Lord Cardiff has given his word. You are perfectly safe if you will only put an end to all of this.”

  Thomas looked relieved. “Thea is right, Philip. We shan’t hang after all since his lordship has pledged his word.”

  “But Lord Cardiff has pledged himself under duress,” said Philip. He looked from his uncomprehending brother to his sister. “Do you not see? I am holding Lord Cardiff at pistol point. He is not obliged to abide by anything he says under such circumstances.”

  Thea shook her head in denial. Everything inside her was certain that she could place all of her trust in Lord Cardiff. “No, I will not believe that Lord Cardiff would serve us such a trick.”

  Thomas began to frown again, his thick brows drawing together over his misshapen nose as his slow thought processes began to turn.

  “I am not in the habit of breaking my word regardless of the circumstances,” said Cardiff in a hard voice, directing a cold look at Philip.

  Philip smiled faintly and gave a little shrug that had a hopelessness to its lift. “I am sorry, my lord. I do not intend to insult you. But we do not know you very well, after all, and there have been gentlemen enough who have pledged their honor and consequently betrayed their word.”

  Cardiff stared at the young man, a white line forming about his firmly compressed mouth. He had the most disconcerting feeling that the ground was shifting from under him and he wondered dispassionately if he would survive his dealings with the Staffords.

  “Philip!” exclaimed Thea, shocked. “How can you act so? Why, Lord Cardiff has been all that is gentlemanly.”

  Thomas was shaking his head. It was he who replied to her. “Our brother is quite right, Thea. You have forgotten the baron,” he said heavily.

  “The baron?” Thea looked at each of her brothers in turn. “You cannot compare the two cases. Why, Lord Cardiff is a true gentleman. He rescued me from Mr. Quarles’s foul scheme, or have you forgotten? Surely that must prove he is not of the same stripe as the baron.”

  “Am I not to be enlightened as to what rule I am being measured against?” asked Cardiff. “It is difficult to mount a defense when one does not know the charges!”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Thea looked away, not wanting to meet Lord Cardiff’s hard gaze. Finally, Philip said, “It is too long and painful a tale to relate, my lord. Suffice it to say, our family has had dealings with a gentleman who dishonored his pledged word to us. We have small reason to place faith in another such.”

  Thomas nodded again, his expression set and closed. He met Lord Cardiff’s gaze with a hard light in his eyes.

  When Cardiff glanced at Miss Stafford, she was looking steadfastly down at her hands clasped in her lap. He recognized that his advocate had at last been silenced. He directed his reply more to her than to her brothers. “I see. There is nothing more I can say except to repeat what I have already stated. I abide by my word of honor. Surely your dealings with me thus far prove as much or, at least, give you reason enough to place some trust in me.”

  At that, Miss Stafford raised her eyes quickly. She had a questioning look in them when she met his glance.
Lord Cardiff held her gaze with his own, willing her to believe him, and at last a small smile touched her face. She gave a barely perceptible nod.

  Straightening her shoulders, Thea once more tried her persuasive powers on her brothers. “We shouldn’t allow a painful experience of the past to rob us of all trust in our fellow man. Surely you must see by now, Philip, that our only real recourse is to put an end to this by letting Lord Cardiff go. I, for one, am quite prepared to trust him.”

  Once more thrown into doubt, Thomas looked uncertainly from Thea to his brother. “Philip?”

  Philip shook his head stubbornly. “There is another alternative, one which will ensure that Lord Cardiff will never say anything against us.” He glanced at Lord Cardiff and his mouth tightened purposefully. The pistol was held quite steady in his hand.

  Thea’s eyes dropped from her brother’s determined face to the firearm he held in his hand. A horrible thought, one so repugnant that it almost nauseated her by its unwelcome presence, darted into her mind. “Philip! You are never thinking of—of—” She wet her lips, unable to say the words aloud.

  For once, Thomas Stafford’s mind grasped instantly the implication that had been left unsaid. Comprehension mingled with horror dawned on his face. “I say, Philip! Murder? Have you run mad?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Murder!” Horror shone out of Philip Stafford’s eyes. His expression twisted, and he exclaimed angrily, “Of course not! What do you think I am?”

  Thea was awash with relief. Her voice shaking, she asked, “Then what?”

  “I apprehend that your brother is referring to family loyalties, Miss Stafford. He believes that, as his brother-in-law, I will not lay information against him or his brother, else by doing so I besmirch my own name,” said Cardiff matter-of-factly. His own heart still beat more rapidly, for just seconds previously he had been rigid with tension. He, too, had interpreted Philip Stafford’s foreboding statement in the worst possible light. Good odds or not, he had been on the point of launching himself at Philip to wrestle him for the pistol, despite the probable repercussions. He would have preferred being shot while trying to escape, even chancing a stray bullet striking Miss Stafford, than to tamely submit to being executed.

  Fortunately, Philip’s violent revulsion had made clear the true state of the man’s mind. The only other reasonable alternative had thus come quickly to Cardiff, and he thought it only pointed out the enormity of Philip Stafford’s idiocy. With that mercifully quick plunge into melodrama, Cardiff was no longer inclined to regard his bizarre situation with any degree of amused detachment. The thing had palled on him, completely and utterly.

  At the first opportunity offered which would not unduly jeopardize either Miss Stafford or himself, Cardiff was determined to break free.

  “Is that indeed what you meant, Philip?” asked Thea, still relieved but feeling a gathering dismay as well.

  Philip nodded, but replied to Lord Cardiff. “Quite correct, my lord.”

  Thomas said nothing, but merely looked thoughtful.

  “Oh, no! No, Philip! You don’t understand. I won’t marry Lord Cardiff! I won’t!” exclaimed Thea. She pressed her fingers to her brows, trying to counteract the dull headache that was forming behind her eyes. Since her abduction the afternoon before, she had been in an almost continual state of stress. It was an awful nightmare and just seemed to go on and on. For a few moments, for just a few wonderful moments, she had thought she had finally persuaded her brothers to reason. But apparently it was not to be.

  “It’s either wed his lordship or see your brothers hang on the gallows, Thea,” said Philip with finality. “I do not believe you will want our deaths on your conscience.”

  “That’s true enough. Isn’t it, Thea?” asked Thomas hopefully.

  Thea threw up her head, dropping her hands. “Of course I do not wish your deaths on my conscience! What a monster I would be to hope otherwise! But I cannot countenance this course, Philip.”

  “I do believe Philip has the right of it, Thea,” said Thomas with a persuasive note in his voice.

  “And so we are brought back full circle,” murmured Lord Cardiff on a bored sigh.

  Thea heard him and it seemed to snap something inside her. Almost in tears, she cried, “Simply let Lord Cardiff go, you stupid pigheaded imbeciles!”

  “Thea, you mustn’t take it so hard,” said Thomas, leaning forward to pat her knee in a comforting fashion. “Perhaps Lord Cardiff isn’t whom you would prefer, but he isn’t a bad bargain. He likes you well enough, I’ll wager, and it isn’t as though you have a number of suitors. Lord, won’t Tabitha be put in a pretty taking when she learns you have wed before her! That ought to make you feel better.”

  There was enough revealed in Thomas’s observations to make Thea’s face burn with hot color. “Hush, Thomas!” she begged. She did not dare to glance in Lord Cardiff’s direction to gauge his reaction to her brother’s indiscreet speech.

  “I hesitate to interrupt such powerful arguments, but I believe the carriage is slowing to a stop,” drawled Cardiff.

  “What!” At once Philip became thoroughly alarmed. “Why are we stopping? I forbid them to stop. Put down the window, Thomas! Tell them that—that Lord Cardiff will suffer if they do not keep going!”

  Thomas looked out the window as he moved forward to obey. “Oh, I say! We are coming into a village.”

  Thea also craned forward to look through the window. She saw a narrow street with passing traffic in carts and the fronts of several shops.

  “I suspected that we were. Thomas, it won’t do any good to threaten my servants,” said Cardiff quietly. “It’s plain enough what is happening. Though I have extremely good horses, they are simply horses and cannot be expected to go on forever.”

  Thomas sat back against the squabs, his task left unaccomplished. He exchanged a glance of dismay with Philip. “His lordship is right, Philip. We’ve been driving for hours already. We’ll need a fresh team harnessed.” He glanced back out of the window. “We are turning into an inn yard. What are we to do?”

  “We must—we must—” Realizing that he was stammering, Philip stopped speaking. He appeared to be at a loss.

  Cardiff smiled, quite at his ease. “Give it up, Philip. It is all over, you know.”

  “No!” Philip drew in his breath. His brain seemed to clear of its panic. “Thomas, you will step down. Put your hand in your pocket. The coachman and groom will think you have a pistol in it. Tell them not to say a word to anyone, or Lord Cardiff will be the sorrier for it. Tell them to have a new team hitched at once and then to drive on.”

  “It’s you who have the head on you, Philip,” said Thomas admiringly.

  Before the carriage was completely stopped, he opened the door and leaped down, calling out to the coachman as he did so.

  Philip warily eyed Lord Cardiff. The pistol was held perfectly steady. “Pray do not be foolish, my lord. I do not wish to shoot you.”

  Cardiff had already measured the distance to the door through which Thomas had exited. He would have to lunge past Miss Stafford to reach it, while avoiding whatever retaliatory action Philip would employ. Cardiff wasn’t at all certain that he would be able to successfully accomplish an escape. The obvious alternative was to try to disarm his opponent, but again Philip’s attention was trained too thoroughly on him and it would be awkward, at best, with his own hands still tied.

  Deliberately, Cardiff forced himself to relax. There was nothing in his expression to reflect his swift thoughts and his feeling of acute frustration. “I thought you had decided against murder, sir,” he drawled, nodding at the poised pistol.

  “I have! I mean to say, it never occurred to me in the first place. But we are in desperate straits, my lord, and I fear things have gone too far to back out of it now,” said Philip with a regretful shake of the head. His chest rose quickly on a gulp of air. “So you see, my lord, I must shoot you if you attempt to escape.”

  “Since I do not w
ish to be shot, I shall endeavor to make myself an agreeable companion,” said Cardiff. If he could disembark from the carriage, it might be possible to excite aid from the inn’s employees or patrons. “Er—do you think your magnanimity might extend to a tankard of ale and a sandwich?”

  Philip hesitated, but his hand was forced by his sister.

  Thea instantly took up the cudgels. “For goodness sake, Philip! We have been driving and driving. It is barbaric to treat Lord Cardiff thus. I, too, would like refreshment. I should like a cup of hot tea and some luncheon.” She stared angrily at her brother. “And I should also like a few minutes in private, if you please!”

  Philip took Thea’s meaning well enough and he flushed. “Of course, Thea. I did not think.”

  Thea curled her lip as she set her hand to the door beside her. “No, you did not. Why does that not surprise me? That has been patently obvious from the very first!”

  With that parting shot, she pushed open the door of the carriage and stepped down from it into the damp inn yard. She shivered against the rawness of the cold day. A chill wind gusted round her ankles, and she was acutely aware that her walking dress was completely inadequate. She pulled her cloak more firmly about her, her reticule bumping against her side from where it dangled from her wrist.

  A large hand wrapped round her arm. “Here! What are you doing, Thea?”

  Thea turned on her brother Thomas, pulling free of his slack hold. She looked daggers at him. “I shall be quite plain, Thomas! I am going to the privy. Perhaps you wish to accompany me?”

  Thomas’s ears turned red as he hastily declined.

  Thea’s sense of the ridiculous was struck by his acute embarrassment. It was the one good moment for several hours. Relenting from her hostility, she smiled up at him. “Philip is going to let us all have some refreshment. I am going to order a cup of tea. Shall I have a sandwich sent out to you and perhaps some hot cider?”