The Heiress

by Lynsay Sands

  "Where are you going?" Lisa asked, standing up.

  "For a walk."

  "But I was going to read to you to cheer you up," Lisa protested.

  "I don't want to be read to," Suzette said grimly as she slipped her shoes on.

  "I could tell you a story," Lisa offered.

  "No."

  "I could sing, or--"

  "I want to be alone," Suzette said impatiently, heading for the door. She just wanted out of there. She didn't want Lisa's pitying looks or attempts to cheer her. She wanted to be alone to consider what to do. If there was anything to do. Of course, there were things she had to do. She still had to marry to save them all from scandal. Here she was, just a day's travel away from Gretna Green, where she would need to wed, but with no prospective grooms around to marry. If Daniel hadn't wished to wed her, the least he could have done was say so days ago in London, where she could have found someone else. Now she was far away from the bachelors she had to choose from. What a bloody mess.

  Daniel was an ass, and she was an idiot, and soon Richard and Robert would return and everyone would know just how much of an idiot she was, Suzette thought as she left the room and started down the stairs.

  Although, she supposed, everyone probably did know by now. Christiana and Lisa did. No doubt by now Richard and Robert had caught up to Daniel and demanded an explanation, which he would probably give, and they would know. So that just left her father, and he would learn soon as well, she was sure. It was bad enough making such a mistake, but having everyone know just made it unbearable. Not that it mattered, Suzette supposed. Even losing their combined esteem did not hurt as much as losing Daniel's. She had thought . . . Well, it didn't matter what she'd thought. She'd obviously thought wrong. And now here she was, heartbroken, Suzette acknowledged, as she made her way through the main room and slipped out of the inn.

  While she had instinctively denied it to Lisa, Suzette would acknowledge to herself that her feelings for Daniel had run very deep indeed. She had craved him like the very air she breathed, and still did. She'd wanted to touch every part of him, hear every moment of his life before their meeting and share every future moment there was. She'd sprung from her bed each morning since meeting him, eager to start the day and find him, not wanting to miss a moment with him. And he had seemed just as eager to spend time with her, which was why she was so crushed now to learn that he hadn't ever intended to marry her, had been leading her to believe he would just to "get to know her better."

  Perhaps it had all been some plot to debauch her, Suzette thought. It wasn't a pleasant possibility to consider. It meant she'd completely misjudged the man and hadn't known him at all.

  Avoiding even looking at the stables, the scene of her folly, Suzette walked around the inn and found a small path into the woods as she considered that perhaps Daniel was one of those bounders who went about deflowering unwary young debutantes naive enough to--

  Suzette shook her head. No. She couldn't believe that. Surely, she couldn't have loved such a bounder as that? In the end, she supposed it didn't matter. That was what had happened. She'd lain with him, he was refusing to marry her because of it, and she now had to face the consequences alone. Virginity was expected from a bride and she would never lie to a man and claim to still possess hers. And yet she had to marry, and probably sooner was better than later since there may be even more consequences to that morning's events in the stable.

  Swallowing, Suzette placed a hand over her stomach, wondering if his seed had taken root. Was she carrying his child? Part of her hoped dearly that she was, that she would keep and have a reminder of their time together for the rest of their days in the guise of a Daniel Junior. Another part of her, though, was horrified at the thought, knowing that looking on that child would mean fresh pain every day as well.

  Sighing, Suzette paused to lean against a tree and closed her eyes, wishing things had been different. Wishing he'd love her. Wishing she'd never met him. She could have happily gone an entire lifetime without knowing this pain . . . even if it meant forgoing the happy moments and pleasure that had preceded it.

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  Suzette glanced around. A man stood, hesitating a few feet away, looking uncertain as to whether to continue on his way or stop. It was the fellow who had approached as she'd watched Richard and Robert ride off. The one who had asked, "Suzette, isn't it?" She had thought he looked vaguely familiar then. Suzette felt sure she should know him, but couldn't be bothered to work it out any more now than she had been then.

  "You're crying," he said, concern filling his expression as he moved forward.

  Suzette raised a hand to her face, surprised to find it wet. She hadn't realized she'd been crying again, but suspected she would do a lot more of it in the coming weeks as she grieved her loss. Realizing the man was coming to stand before her, she turned to move away, but he caught her arm.

  "Please, what's wrong? Maybe I can help," he said softly, drawing her to a halt.

  "Nothing," Suzette murmured, keeping her face turned away. "Please, don't trouble yourself. I am fine."

  "Now what kind of gentleman would abandon a lady crying alone in the woods?" he chided, retrieving a handkerchief and turning her so that he could dab at her face and mop up the tears. "There, that's better."

  "Thank you," Suzette murmured as he put the handkerchief away.

  He nodded, and then glanced around before looking back and saying solemnly, "You really shouldn't be out here by yourself, you know. This close to the border between England and Scotland there is more crime than elsewhere and a young lady should never be unescorted in the area."

  Suzette peered at the trees surrounding them. It looked peaceful enough. On the other hand, there could also be a dozen bandits and highwaymen hiding behind the surrounding trees and she would not know it until they leapt out at her.

  "Come, I shall walk with you," he decided, taking her arm and urging her gently along the path. "There is a lovely little waterfall just a little further on. Perhaps we could sit there. I always find water soothing to my troubles, though I'm not sure why. But it has been that way since I was a small boy. Do you like water?"

  Suzette mumbled a noncommittal reply. At that moment she wasn't sure what she liked or disliked, or if she liked much of anything at all. Mostly she just wanted to go back to her room at the inn and curl up in a ball on the bed and cry herself back to sleep. She didn't know why she hadn't just sent Lisa from the room and done that earlier, rather than coming outside.

  "London is nice with its entertainments, but there is just nothing to compare to Mother Nature's artistry in the country, don't you think?" the man continued, chattering soothingly. "The fresh air, the birdsong, the rustle of the breeze through the trees . . . I always feel refreshed after a visit to the country. Ah, here we are. Isn't it lovely?"

  Suzette saw that they'd moved off the path to the edge of a small pond with a waterfall pouring fresh water into it. It was quite pretty, she supposed with disinterest, and wondered if Daniel would have liked it.

  "If I'd realized I was going to come across a beautiful young lady on my walk, I would have had the innkeeper's wife pack a picnic for us," her companion commented as he urged her to sit on a boulder next to the water. "However, I suppose we shall have to make do with what I did bring. You have your choice of a peach or a pear."

  Suzette eyed the two items he'd retrieved from his pocket. She wasn't hungry, but took the peach to be polite and the fellow settled next to her on the boulder, leaving enough room that it could not be considered improper.

  They were silent, watching the water cascade into the pond, and Suzette let her mind wander. Of course it returned to Daniel, to his smile, his kind eyes, his laughter, his kisses--

  "Shall I dispose of the pit for you?"

  Suzette glanced down with surprise to see that, hungry or not, she'd eaten the entire peach. And she hadn't tasted a bite. She held out the pit and watched silently as he tossed it into the pond.
>
  "There." He relaxed on the boulder and then said, "It is none of my business, but you seem very melancholy, not at all the vivacious young woman I met at the Landons' ball."

  Suzette stiffened and looked to him then, really looking this time. He definitely did look familiar, but she still wasn't placing him.

  "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I danced with so many at the Landons' ball, and it feels like a lifetime ago. I'm afraid I don't recall--"

  "I am the one man you didn't dance with," he said, smiling wryly, and then introduced himself. "I am Lord Danvers. Jeremy Danvers. I was on your card that night, but when I came to claim you for our dance, you seemed quite distressed and you rushed off."

  "Oh," Suzette grimaced as the memory returned to her. He'd come to claim her just as she'd spotted Richard.

  "Ah, I see the recollection on your face," Danvers said with amusement.

  "I apologize, I am not usually so rude, but there was something of a family crisis," she said quietly, now recalling that Lisa had been alarmed at her not dancing with the man because he suited their needs and was not old or unpleasant. Suzette thought now that perhaps if Richard had arrived just a few minutes later, everything would be different. Perhaps she would have made her proposition to Danvers on the dance floor and never even given Daniel a second glance.

  "There is no need to apologize," Danvers assured her, and then smiled wryly and said, "Although, I suppose I could hold you wholly responsible for my broken heart because of it."

  Suzette blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry, I don't--"

  Jeremy patted her hand soothingly, and shook his head. "Forgive me. That was just a moment's bitterness slipping out." He sighed and turned his gaze to the water, but then confessed, "When you rushed off so precipitously and left me without a partner, I asked a lovely young blonde if I might have the pleasure. We danced and chatted and laughed . . . I fear I was quite taken with her. I even fetched her punch and then asked for a second dance later in the night." He gave her a crooked smile and pointed out, "Very risky behavior, dancing twice in one night with the same lady."

  "Yes," she murmured, turning her gaze to the water now.

  "I met her again the next night at the Hammonds' ball and again danced with her twice and fetched her punch, and then she grew quite warm and we went out on the terrace and I snuck a kiss."

  Suzette swallowed, recalling the kiss she and Daniel had shared at the Landons' ball.

  "It was all quite intoxicating," Jeremy said quietly. "I fear I let myself get carried away and endeavored to "run into" her at several other places the last few days . . . She did not seem to mind and then, well, I fear I ended up asking her to marry me." He sighed. "I wanted to go to her father and ask for her hand, but she convinced me not to. She insisted we must run off to Gretna Green to marry, and at once."

  Jeremy bent to pick up a stone he'd been worrying with the toe of his boot and tossed it in the pond before continuing. "Of course, the truth was her parents would never have approved. She is an heiress where I have only a barony, a small castle in northern England and little money to run it." He grimaced charmingly as he admitted that and shrugged. "I agreed and we set out."

  Suzette's eyebrows rose. "Is she back at the inn?"

  Jeremy shook his head. "It seemed she wasn't quite as taken as I. We rode night and day, got to Gretna Green and--" he shook his head with bewilderment. "She just changed her mind at the last minute. She burst into tears and fled. She would not even allow me to return her home, but insisted on renting a hack herself and returning on her own." He dug up another stone and bent to collect it as well. He weighed it in his hand briefly, and then tossed it into the pond before finishing, "So I am returning alone, still a bachelor rather than the newly married man I expected to be."

  "I'm sorry," Suzette whispered, sympathizing with the man. His story was not that different from her own.

  "The hell of it is, I have to marry relatively soon to fulfill my duty to my family," he continued unhappily. "I have been resisting marrying the first likely gel for money, and thought here I would manage a love match and still meet my family's needs, but--" He shook his head. "It seems I shall have to sell myself off to stud to the first likely hag with coin in her pocket to save the family estates from ruin."

  Suzette stared at him blankly for a moment and then suddenly just burst into tears.

  "Oh say," he cried at once. "I didn't mean to make you cry again. 'Tis all right, my heart is a little dented and wounded now, but I'll recover. I hope," he added unhappily, and then said, "Please don't cry."

  "I'm sorry," Suzette muttered, dashing at her tears, and then, accepting the hanky he held out, she quickly mopped them up. "It is just that we are in much the same situation."

  His eyebrows rose. "You need to marry for money?"

  "No. Well, yes, but--oh," she sighed and quickly explained the situation and her need for a husband in need of money who would be willing to allow her to pay off the debt and live her own life.

  "So you have a large dower and need a husband in need of money, and I have a title and lands and need a bride with coin, and here we both sit brokenhearted and with no prospects," he said with a short laugh, and shook his head. "Fate has a nasty sense of humor, doesn't she?"

  Suzette nodded solemnly and handed him back his hanky.

  They were both silent for a moment and then he glanced at her and asked, "Would it be too bold of me to suggest we marry each other?"

  Suzette hesitated and then glanced away. The thought had occurred to her, but it would mean telling him what she'd done.

  "I wouldn't suggest it, only . . . well, I feel very comfortable with you," he admitted and then added wryly, "Believe me, I do not usually go about blurting my troubles to pretty ladies I've just met, and yet it seemed the most natural thing in the world to tell you." He smiled crookedly and added, "I even feel a little bit better for it."

  Suzette managed a smile, but worried her lower lip between her teeth, wondering if she had the courage to tell him what she'd done. She did not feel uncomfortable with him either. He was pleasant enough, and rather charming in a non-threatening, not-at-all-arousing-like-Daniel way.

  "And it does seem to me that if you cannot have a great passion, you should at least like and be comfortable with your mate," he added. "I think we could be good friends with time."

  Suzette sighed and lowered her head. If she could not have Daniel, she supposed she could do worse than Jeremy. Of course, they'd just met, but he seemed decent enough, and at least, having suffered heartbreak himself, he would understand her heartbreak. And it would solve her problems and save her from the wearying business of searching for another possible husband. She just wished she didn't have to tell him what she'd done. But there was no help for that, she realized, and blurted, "I let my betrothed drive his machine up my strait."

  Jeremy stared at her blankly, one sound slipping from his lips, a confused, "Eh?"

  "He drove his nail up to the head," she explained, using another metaphor she'd learned in her reading.

  "Er . . ." Jeremy got out, still looking bemused.

  Suzette sighed with exasperation. "He buried his truncheon in my cloven field."

  "Don't you mean clover field?" he asked scratching his head. "I've never heard of a cloven field. You must mean clover."

  Suzette flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't recall anymore metaphors from her reading and it seemed something more to the point was needed here. "I gave him my innocence, my lord."

  "Oh," the word left him on a long breath, and then he sighed, "I see . . . Well, that's . . . Oh dear."

  Suzette lowered her head, awaiting his disgust and rejection, but after a moment he cleared his throat and said, "Well, I will admit I would not like another man's by-blow. However, I suppose we could resolve that matter by simply refraining from . . . er . . . nailing the clover until we know if you are carrying his child or not."

  Suzette blinked and glanced to him in surprise. "You do not min
d? I mean I--"

  "You obviously love him," he said gently. "Your tears say as much, and I surely understand love. Though truly, I must tell you I don't think he deserves your love if he would take your innocence and then abandon you like this. Certainly, I never would have let my girl go had we gone so far."

  Suzette felt misery slide through her and turned her head away with shame, but he patted her hand.

  "It is surely not a flaw in you, but him," Jeremy said reassuringly. "And perhaps it is only because my heart is not engaged, but other than waiting to consummate the marriage until we are sure you are not with child, I see no reason for that to be an issue in our decision."

  "And what if I am with child?" she asked on a whisper.

  A moment of silence passed and then he suggested, "Why do we not deal with that if it happens? You probably are not with child, and we must hope for that, but if you are, well, there are many options to choose from. It might be a girl, who wouldn't inherit the title and estate anyway. Or the child might not make it to term." He shrugged. "Let us take this one problem at a time. We both need to marry and suit each other's needs in that manner. Let us leave the future to take care of itself."

  Suzette let her breath out on a small sigh as she nodded, and actually felt a little better. Her heart still ached, and she suspected she would spend a lot of time weeping, and would no doubt weep at the wedding because it was Jeremy at her side and not Daniel, but at least the other issues were taken care of. Her family would be safe from scandal, the markers would be paid, and Jeremy did not appear to be horrified, scandalized or disgusted by what she'd done.

  "Suzette?"

  She peered over her shoulder as her father stepped out of the trees and into the small clearing.

  Lord Madison frowned when he took note that she was not alone and said, "I have been looking for you for several minutes and was about to give up and go back to the inn when I heard your voices and followed them."

  "Lord Madison," Jeremy said quietly, getting to his feet. "I realize it is not well done of me to keep your daughter company out here like this, but we came across each other on the path and I thought seeing the falls would lift her spirits."

  "Do I know you?" Cedrick Madison asked, eyes narrowing on Jeremy.