The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love.

by Buck, Gayle

  “Very well, my lord. I shall leave the matter in your capable hands,” said Thea. She was beginning to feel curiosity over what he had it in mind to do. She studied his lean face. “How do you propose that we escape my brothers, my lord?”

  “I have a plan, which I trust will do the trick. I have the recipe for a very potent hot punch. I hope to get your brothers roaring drunk, Miss Stafford, so that they will sleep very heavily and very long,” said Cardiff, the flicker of a grin crossing his face.

  “Most reprehensible, my lord. I wish you every success,” said Thea dryly.

  Cardiff chuckled. “Regardless of the outcome, however, see that you and the chambermaid are at the stable at sunrise. I have already made arrangements with my servants to have my carriage waiting at that time,” he said.

  “You are a much better conspirator than Mr. Quarles,” observed Thea, marveling at him. He seemed to be one step ahead of her on all points.

  “So I should hope,” said Cardiff with a laugh.

  She capitulated on the instant. She had every reason in the world to trust his lordship to see to her welfare. “Very well, then. I place my fate entirely in your hands, my lord. What do you wish me to do now?”

  “Shortly I shall send down for your brothers to rejoin me and you will be able to withdraw for the night. There is nothing more you will be required to do other than what I have already told you, except to send the chambermaid to me before your brothers return,” said Cardiff.

  Thea nodded. “I will call the girl now, on the pretext of wishing her to accompany me back to my room and help me undress for the night.” She went over to pull on the bell rope.

  “Good; then we are agreed on our course,” said Cardiff.

  Thea looked over her shoulder at him. She felt a peculiar sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Yes, indeed, my lord. Quite agreed.”

  Nothing could have been smoother than Lord Cardiff’s handling of the chambermaid. Thea listened while he spun the little tale of an urgent trip that had to be made. He never truly aired an explanation of the details, but his confident manner and, of course, the coins he gave the chambermaid, with the promise of more, were all that was needed. The chambermaid agreed to waken Miss Stafford at the appointed hour, and Thea retired for the night.

  From inside her bedchamber she heard her brothers walk past her door, their quiet voices punctuated by a laugh from one of them. Thea knew when they entered the parlor where Lord Cardiff was waiting for them because she heard a door open and close and the hall was quiet again.

  Thea got into bed wondering whether Lord Cardiff’s hot punch would actually have the effect that his lordship seemed to think it would. She hoped so because otherwise she feared that Lord Cardiff would have to fight his way out of the inn in the morning.

  The chambermaid snuffed out the candle and bade Thea a good night. There were only the red flames of the dying fire to silhouette the furniture. The flickering light also touched Thea’s face as she stared across the room at the burning log.

  She did not think she would sleep at all. She felt herself to be too anxious. Eventually, however, she sighed and her eyes slowly closed.

  * * * *

  Surprisingly enough, Thea slept deeply and dreamlessly. She wakened only when the chambermaid shook her awake. Thea got up at once, instantly alert. Through the window she could see the fingering rays of the sun just touching the clouded sky. She dressed hurriedly, with the chambermaid’s help, in the blue merino walking dress. Her portmanteau had been packed with her meager belongings the night before and she picked it up.

  Enveloped in her cloak and carrying her portmanteau, Thea left the bedchamber and stole down the dark hallway. She slipped carefully down the dim stairs and out of the inn. The chambermaid followed, clutching a shawl that had been tied in a bundle around her own belongings.

  When Thea emerged from the inn into the deserted yard, she immediately saw Lord Cardiff’s carriage standing in front of the stable and hurried towards it, the portmanteau bumping against her knee. The groom stood at the horses’ heads. One of the horses snorted, blowing white vapor into the air. The stocky coachman paced restlessly back and forth beside the waiting equipage.

  At the sound of her hurried footfalls, the coachman turned. Shadowed amazement crossed his wide face. “Miss! Wot are ye doing here?”

  Thea ignored the coachman’s question. “Yes, it is I,” she said breathlessly. “Pray stow away my portmanteau and my maid’s things.”

  The coachman mechanically took the baggage that she held out to him, but he did not move off and his gaze did not falter. “Wot are ye doing here, miss?” he repeated.

  Thea realized with a sinking feeling that Lord Cardiff had not attended to every detail of the escape, after all. “My maid and I are going with you. Lord Cardiff is escorting me to my great-aunt’s home.”

  The groom muttered something under his breath, which Thea chose to ignore. “Pray open the door and put down the step for me and my maid.”

  The coachman merely stared at her, his heavy brows settling over his crooked nose in a gathering frown. “I have heard nothing of this, miss.”

  “Nevertheless, I am telling you the truth,” said Thea urgently. “Pray do as I say and let us into the carriage. It is very cold standing here!”

  The coachman shook his head. “I’m that sorry, miss, but I must ‘ave a word with m’lord.”

  The impasse might have deteriorated further if Lord Cardiff himself had not come out of the inn. His lithe stride carried him swiftly across the yard.

  “M’lord!” The coachman greeted Lord Cardiff’s appearance with relief. “M’lord, here is miss and –”

  “Excellent. We will be able to leave in good time. I will help Miss Stafford and her maid up into the carriage,” said Cardiff crisply. The coachman nodded and meekly went away to stow the portmanteau and the shawl bundle in the boot. Cardiff addressed his groom. “Mathers, is there a decent riding horse in the stable?”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  “Then saddle it for me. I spoke to the innkeeper a moment ago to pay my bill and told him that I might take a horse.” Cardiff did not wait to see his groom run into the gloom of the stable, but immediately turned to Miss Stafford. His voice still low, he said, “You must be heartily sick of the sight of my carriage by now, ma’am, but pray allow me to hand you up into it for one last time.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  With Lord Cardiff’s steady hand under her elbow, Thea ascended the iron step quickly into the carriage. Her maid followed her and without a word took the seat with her back against the horses.

  As Lord Cardiff started to shut the door, Thea delayed him for a moment. “Wait! My brothers, my lord?”

  Cardiff gave a soft laugh. “They are snoring safely in their beds, Miss Stafford. I doubt they will wake until the waiter comes up with breakfast.”

  One of her most pressing anxieties thus relieved, Thea smiled at Lord Cardiff and sat back against the well-upholstered seat squabs. Her brothers had not been harmed, and Lord Cardiff had not had to resort to any heavy-handed tactics in effecting their escape.

  The door was shut and latched. A minute later the carriage gave a jerk and started away. Through the glass window as the sun slowly rose, Thea caught glimpses of Lord Cardiff on his horse. He rode easily, his posture upright but perfectly comfortable in the saddle.

  “M’lord is a handsome one,” remarked the chambermaid.

  “Yes,” agreed Thea, not taking her eyes off Lord Cardiff. She was disappointed when he spurred ahead and she couldn’t see him any longer.

  The miles rolled swiftly past. It was a much more pleasant journey than before, reflected Thea, simply because she was not so anxious or angry. She realized also that the carriage was being driven at a far faster pace than it had been while her brothers were aboard. Obviously, Lord Cardiff’s servants had disobliged her brothers as much as they dared while their master was perceived to be in danger.

  Altogether t
his was a different sort of journey, attended as it was by the proper chaperone of a maid. Also Lord Cardiff was abiding by the conventions by riding outside rather than being driven inside with her. Thea contrasted the two journeys and discovered to her surprise that she felt a twinge of regret that the first one had finally ended. The easy camaraderie between herself and Lord Cardiff was at an end, and she wished that it was not,

  Thea and Lord Cardiff arrived at her great-aunt’s residence in midmorning. The house was a modest country manor set in depressing, overgrown grounds.

  The porter who opened the door to the visitors acknowledged grudgingly that Mrs. Partridge was at home and he reluctantly moved aside to allow them to enter. Thea and Lord Cardiff stepped inside, followed by the chambermaid they had brought with them from the inn.

  The porter left Thea and Lord Cardiff standing in the narrow entry hall and disappeared through a paneled door, apparently to announce the unexpected visitors. The porter’s attitude made it obvious that he considered the visitors in the light of unwelcome intruders.

  “I am afraid that my great-aunt is not particularly sociable,” said Thea apologetically.

  Cardiff said nothing, merely nodding in acknowledgment of Miss Stafford’s observation. He had already formed the opinion that if the porter’s sloppy attention to his duty was any example, Mrs. Partridge’s household left much to be desired.

  The porter shortly returned and silently led the way to show Thea and Lord Cardiff into a side parlor. The chambermaid was ignored and left to her own devices in the entry hall.

  Cardiff crossed the threshold, only to be brought up short by an astonishing sight. His gaze was bemused as he swept the room with a single comprehensive glance. “My word!”

  A decrepit old woman attired in the wide panniers of a former era was seated on a large divan, which she shared with three or four cats. It was impossible to tell how many, since the animals were curled in a tumbled heap of fur. Cats lay drowsing on the oriental carpet in front of the blazing fire. Cats slept on the wing chairs. Small kittens rolled and tumbled with great balls of yarn, snarling their infant ferocity. Others galloped round and round through the chair legs, chasing one another.

  Thea ignored Lord Cardiff’s stupefaction. His lordship had been warned by her brother Thomas, after all. She stepped across the cats scattered over the carpet, making her way over to her great-aunt, Mrs. Partridge. Thea leaned over to affectionately kiss the old woman’s hollow cheek. “Thank you for receiving me, Aunt Theresa.”

  “The only reason I did was because I was curious.” Mrs. Partridge’s pale, sharp eyes centered on her great-niece’s companion. “Who is that with you?”

  “I am Lord David Cardiff, ma’am, at your service.” Cardiff had recovered his usual aplomb and executed an elegant bow.

  The old lady snorted and eyed Lord Cardiff askance. “Vastly pretty. You may sit down.” She turned her attention to her great-niece, obviously dismissing her unknown guest. “Now, Thea, give me the tale.”

  Cardiff looked around. There was not a vacant chair in sight. Coolly, he plucked a heavy cat from a wing chair and sat down. The big ginger cat instantly jumped back up and turned itself on his lordship’s lap before settling down with a lazy yawn. Cardiff grinned and shrugged. When in Rome ... He fondled the cat’s torn ears and it began sounding a loud, ragged purr.

  Mrs. Partridge approvingly observed Lord Cardiff’s interaction with her cat. “Ginger-boy likes you.”

  “So I observe,” said Cardiff suavely.

  Thea made a place for herself in the same way as had Lord Cardiff. She was well enough acquainted with her great-aunt’s eccentricities that the cats did not bother her. Instead she focused on relating her recent history to Mrs. Partridge. With a smile, she ended, “And so, dear ma’am, I have come to you hoping that I may stay with you.”

  “Well, you can’t,” said Mrs. Partridge flatly. At Thea’s shocked expression, she softened her refusal. “This is no place for a young girl like you, Thea. I never entertain and my neighbors know better than to bother me.”

  “But what shall I do, then?” asked Thea, not of anyone in particular. She had been thrown completely off balance. It had never occurred to her that her great-aunt might refuse her.

  Mrs. Partridge directed her keen gaze at Lord Cardiff. She snapped, “You had best marry the girl.”

  Cardiff smiled at Miss Stafford, whose face had pinkened quite becomingly. “I have offered to do so.”

  “I don’t wish to wed Lord Cardiff!” exclaimed Thea. Her eyes sparkled with irritation. “Why does everyone keep saying I must?”

  “I don’t blame you. I don’t care for men much myself. However, this one likes cats and so I suspect he may be better than most,” said Mrs. Partridge placatingly. “You might try to like him, my dear. You’ll not find any gentleman around this vicinity who will suit you better. They have all got a preference for hunting and dogs. Awful creatures!”

  Thea rolled her eyes. She dared not speculate what Lord Cardiff must think about her great-aunt’s assessment of his character. His lordship was the model of a gentleman and he had been reduced to the level of a mere cat lover.

  “I like Lord Cardiff very well, Aunt. That does not mean I wish to wed him.”

  “I am cut to the heart, ma’am,” murmured Cardiff. He did not respond to Miss Stafford’s indignant glance, but managed to retain his wounded expression.

  “Sickly, that is what I call it,” said Mrs. Partridge, grimacing at Lord Cardiff’s soulful look.

  Cardiff gave a laugh, which he quickly changed to a cough. “My apologies, ma’am. You were saying?”

  With a last glance of disgust, Mrs. Partridge turned back to Thea.

  “However, if you cannot stomach the notion, I suggest you apply to your Uncle Owen,” she said in a brisk voice. “You’ve the look of your mother about you. If I know anything about Owen, it is that he’ll do what he can for you.”

  “My Uncle Owen?” repeated Thea, astonished.

  “Don’t gawk so, girl. It makes you appear stupid. Yes, the Owens. Your mother’s people,” said Mrs. Partridge impatiently.

  “You have a maternal uncle, Miss Stafford?” asked Cardiff in surprise. He had gathered from the talk between her and her brothers that she had no other close relations besides the one great-aunt.

  “And an aunt, too, unless she has died in the last few months,” said Mrs. Partridge dryly. “The Owens are decent people. They sent me a nice letter when I was ailing last year.”

  The elderly lady’s hands constantly caressed the cats tucked about her and in her lap. Cardiff watched in fascination and made an attempt to count the number of cats, but he was never quite certain that he had gotten them all.

  “I had quite forgotten Mama’s brother and his wife. Papa quarreled horribly with my uncle when I was a small girl. I don’t know what the quarrel was about but it put an end to all communication between the families. I have not seen them for several years,” said Thea slowly, a slight frown forming between her brows.

  “Your Papa quarrels with everyone. He even quarreled with me and I am the most temperate creature imaginable,” said Mrs. Partridge in an irascible tone.

  “I am certain of it, ma’am,” said Cardiff suavely, the barest hint of laughter in his voice. He was enjoying the old lady and her eccentricities.

  Mrs. Partridge allowed a somewhat toothless smile to stretch her withered lips. She bestowed a nod on Lord Cardiff. In her forthright way, she said, “My niece is a fool. She should have you to the altar.”

  Cardiff smiled. He was beginning to think so also, the longer he was in Miss Stafford’s company. “You flatter me, Mrs. Partridge.”

  “I probably do.” Mrs. Partridge ignored the strangled sounds coming from Thea’s direction and continued, “I shall write a note for Thea to carry with you to the Owens. It will look better.”

  Mrs. Partridge had evidently taken it for granted that Lord Cardiff would continue to act as her great-niece’s escort.
Cardiff managed a credible bow from the waist, despite the obstruction of the fat tabby filling his lap. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  The old lady leveled a scolding expression on Lord Cardiff. “You shouldn’t be bouncing around the countryside with my great-niece in this very odd fashion, my lord.”

  “That has been my thought from the beginning ma’am.” Cardiff tried and failed to hide the flash of grin. The lady had no notion how strongly he had felt about the necessity, he reflected with ruefulness.

  “It was Lord Cardiff’s notion to hire the chambermaid as a companion for me,” said Thea quickly. “His lordship has behaved very circumspectly.”

  Mrs. Partridge snorted. “Chambermaids! Ravishers! My brain is still spinning from this tangled tale of yours, Thea.”

  A high, wavering shriek broke, followed by a second awful squall. Mrs. Partridge palpably jumped. She clasped a bony hand to her chest, moaning in agitation, “Oh, my heart! My heart!” One of her lap cats stretched and yawned unconcernedly.

  Thea also started, her gaze flying to the parlor door. The unearthly sound seemed to be coming from the entry hall. “Goodness! Aunt Theresa, what other beasts do you house?”

  Mrs. Partridge sat up, abandoning her wilted pose. “None!” she snapped.

  “What the devil!” exclaimed Cardiff, unceremoniously dumping the cat off his lap and striding quickly to the parlor door. He neglected to watch his step and tripped over one of the cats that suddenly leaped up between his feet. He flailed wildly in the air, unavailingly, and crashed to the carpet. He lay there, blinking up at the plastered ceiling. It was a good thing, he thought resignedly, that he had not landed on his right shoulder.

  Sight of the ceiling was replaced by a view of Miss Stafford’s concerned face as she bent over him. “My lord! Are you quite all right?”

  “Do you know, you look charmingly upside-down,” remarked Cardiff in a detached voice.