The Runaway Heiress

by Brenda Hiatt

  "It's not pure virtue, for he always enjoys himself immensely at these things, but I do think the tenants and villagers appreciate it."

  Dina followed his gaze to where Lord Rumble stood, mug of beer in hand, laughing heartily with a group of farmers. He seemed nothing like the studious baron she had met upon her arrival at Plumrose, but she knew him well enough now to realize that such egalitarianism was by no means out of character.

  "I wish my own father had been willing to mingle more with our tenants —or even our neighbors. Perhaps he'd have been a happier man." Not until she glanced up to see Thor regarding her with sympathy did she realize she'd spoken the thought aloud.

  "Was he very harsh, your father?" he asked then.

  Though it felt disloyal to do so, she nodded. "It was as though, having no joy in his own life, it angered him to see it in anyone else's. My mother, Silas, and I each rebelled in our own way, I suppose, but I can't say ours was a happy family."

  "Perhaps I have not been thankful enough for mine," Thor said. "But I hope in future you will find some of the joy you missed as a child here at Plumrose."

  She blinked up at him, startled by how closely his words paralleled her earlier thoughts. His expression was tender. Pitying? Confused, she cast about for another topic. "The Kibbles have done nicely with their decorations, don't you think?"

  Looking about at the greenery hanging from the rough rafters of the barn, he nodded. "I'm glad to see they did not neglect the most important decorations, at least."

  Before she knew what he was about, he maneuvered her backwards, then glanced upward, significantly. Her heart in her throat, knowing what she would see, she followed his gaze to the kissing bough above their heads.

  "But I thought—"

  He cut off her protest with a kiss that melted her worries into a pool of warmth and left her in no doubt about his feelings. This was not the kiss of a mere "friend."

  Though the music played on, the two of them stopped dancing, suspended in a world of their own, a world out of time. Dina felt Thor's arms come around her, enclosing her, cherishing her, as he deepened the kiss. Rising up on her toes, she put her own arms around his neck, abandoning herself to his lips, losing herself in the wonderful relief of knowing that he still desired her.

  Finally, a particularly strident note on the tin whistle recalled them at least partially to their surroundings. Thor's lips released hers, though he still clasped her in his arms. For a long moment they stood, their lips only inches apart, gazing into each other's eyes. Then, from all around them, came cheers and applause.

  Blinking, Dina realized that the ground was still beneath her feet —she had not soared up into the rafters after all, during that amazing kiss. Not physically, at least. Thor grinned down at her, then lifted a hand to wave at the jubilant crowd, which resulted in another round of cheers. Though she knew she was blushing crimson, Dina was far more happy than she was embarrassed.

  "Does . . . does this mean you want to be more than friends after all?" she asked under cover of the noise around them. After spending more than a day in miserable uncertainty, she wanted no more misunderstandings —if she had misunderstood.

  Thor looked genuinely startled. "I thought we already were. Is that what has been worrying you?"

  She nodded, fighting down a sudden fit of shyness. "Yesterday, you acted almost as though we had never— And then, when you gave me the puppy, you talked about friendship. Only friendship."

  Despite all of the interested eyes in the barn, he bent his head and kissed her again, to a new burst of applause. "Dina, I've wanted you as more than a friend since the day we met. True, I worried —still worry —that a, er, physical relationship may have risks for you, but I never intended to hurt you emotionally, instead."

  Dina smiled up at him, happier than she'd been since climbing out of the pool on Christmas Eve. Everything would be all right now, she was sure of it.

  Suddenly, she chuckled. At Thor's questioning glance, she explained, "I was going to scold Violet for arranging this waltz, when I was doing my best to accede to what I thought were your wishes. Now I suppose I shall have to thank her, instead."

  He nodded, grinning. "Let's both go thank her, shall we? Now, where did she get to?" He scanned the room, an easy task, given his height. Suddenly, his happy expression changed to one of outrage.

  With a sense of foreboding, Dina peered through the crowd and finally saw what Thor had seen. Violet, sitting on the straw bales near the loft, smiling and chatting . . . with Silas.

  "So you see, Miss Turpin —or may I still call you Violet?" Silas asked with a humble show of deference.

  "Of course," she replied warmly. "You are family."

  "Thank you. As I was saying, Violet, my temper has always been my besetting sin. When it gets the better of me, I too often do or say things I regret almost immediately afterward." He hung his head in mock contrition.

  "Believe me," he continued, "by the time I reached Alford, I realized how poorly I had behaved. I came back to apologize, not only for arguing with your brother, but for leaving without even a farewell to your parents or their guests. I haven't noticed Lord Rushford or Sir Charles here, however."

  "No, they left this morning," Violet told him, to his great satisfaction. That made his path easier.

  "I'm sorry to hear that. Still, I can convey my apologies to the others —if you think they will speak to me, after my behavior yesterday."

  "I'm certain they will. Indeed, my brother and Dina seem to be in excellent spirits just now. If you'd arrived a moment or two earlier, you'd have seen—" She broke off to frown up at him uncertainly. "Well, that is neither here nor there. Since you know that your temper is a problem, why do you not endeavor to control it better?"

  This was the prompt he'd been waiting for. "I have been trying for years, but I now realize it is too great a task to accomplish alone. I need someone to help me—to hold me accountable. Someone willing to speak up when I show the first signs of anger."

  "I could help you," she offered. "Perhaps we could arrange some sort of signal that I could give you when I see you beginning to frown, or hear you say something you oughtn't. I could put my finger to my chin, perhaps, like so." She demonstrated.

  "You are as generous as you are lovely," Silas told her gravely. "With your help, I would surely be able to overcome my affliction. But . . . I fear we may not see each other often enough for your plan to work."

  "Of course we will. You promised to come to London when I make my come-out next month, did you not? And I'm certain my brother will not mind if you remain here until we leave."

  Silas was certain of no such thing, nor did he intend to gamble upon it. Glancing up, he saw Turpin and Dina headed their way and neither looked in a particularly forgiving mood. Pasting his most cordial smile on his face, reminding himself that it would all pay off in the end, he stood.

  Jumping to her feet, Violet stepped forward. "Grant, Dina, look who has come back. And you mustn't scold, for he has returned to apologize for yesterday."

  "Yes," said Silas, extending a hand and forcing down an instinctive surge of resentment. "My behavior yesterday was inexcusable, but I pray you will all forgive me anyway."

  Turpin was still frowning, so he turned to Dina. "I should not have spoken as I did, Dina. I'm sorry. The cold made me snappish, but I would hate to be the cause of a breach between us, as you are my only family, now."

  "Not your only family, Silas," Violet assured him. "By virtue of Dina's marriage, you now have all of us, as well."

  "You are far too kind," he murmured with a grateful glance that he intended to convey more than his words. He was rewarded by an understanding smile.

  Then Violet turned back to her brother. "You will forgive him, Grant, will you not? He has promised to work at controlling his temper in the future."

  Turpin regarded Silas through narrowed eyes, as though trying to judge his sincerity. Silas realized, given his current plans, he'd have done much bette
r not to make those insinuations and veiled threats at the start of the ball on Christmas Eve.

  Seeming to become aware of both women's eyes upon him, Turpin finally nodded and shook Silas's proferred hand. "Very well, Moore. Apology accepted. Acknowledgment of one's faults and a desire to eradicate them is admirable, and should not go unrewarded."

  "I have offered to help him —as a sister," Violet said then. "We were just discussing ways I might do that, in fact, and then he means to apologize to Father and Mother."

  Turpin gave another terse nod. "Very well. I've promised my wife another dance." With a hand on Dina's elbow, he led her away, clearly having no desire to spend any more time in Silas's company than necessary, despite the lip-service he gave to forgiveness.

  Silas was careful to let none of his cynicism show in his expression as he turned back to Violet. "That was very clever, throwing in that bit about being my sister," he said. "I think it was just what your brother wished to hear."

  "I didn't say it to be clever." She smiled up at him guilelessly. "I truly do regard you as my brother now. And, as such, I very much want to help you so that we can all be comfortable as a family."

  Though that was not exactly what he'd hoped to hear, Silas nodded gravely. "You are far kinder to me than I deserve." Then, glancing around at the crowd of revelers, "It is quite noisy in here, is it not? What do you say we go outside so that we can hear each other better, while discussing the plan you spoke of?"

  Violet's ready agreement showed she had no suspicion yet of his own plan. Fetching her cloak from the pile near the door, she accompanied him out into the barnyard, where his coach was parked near Lord and Lady Rumble's. A quick glance showed his manservant waiting, as instructed, just behind his coach.

  Draping an arm across Violet's shoulders, he said, "Why do we not sit in my coach to talk? I would not wish you to become chilled on my account."

  She glanced up at him with a slight frown and stepped out from under his arm. Realizing that he was overplaying his hand, Silas shrugged. "Or, we can stand out here, if you prefer it. I don't mind the cold, particularly."

  A well-timed blast of icy wind swept through the barnyard, making both of them clutch their cloaks more tightly about them.

  "Yes, of course you are right. Let's sit in the coach," Violet said with an apologetic little smile.

  Taking care not to touch her again, Silas moved to the coach, opened the door and put down the steps so that she could easily climb inside without his assistance. Once she was in, he got in after her and closed the door.

  "I confess, I did have hopes that you might regard me as more than a brother," he said, settling himself into the seat across from her. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jefferson, who was acting as both valet and driver on this visit, moving to the front of the coach.

  "My brother told me I was a shameless flirt, and I fear he was right. I'm so sorry, Silas, if I have led you to believe I am romantically interested in you, but I really don't think we should suit in that way. Surely, we can both be content to be brother and sister —and friends?"

  He sent her his most melting look, the one that had enticed more than one ostensibly virtuous woman into his bed. "Have I no chance at all of eventually persuading you to become my wife?" This would be far easier if Violet were willing.

  Unfortunately, she shook her head. "I'm afraid not." Her voice, like her expression, was regretful but firm.

  "Pity," he said, and rapped on the roof of the coach. With a lurch, it started forward, then quickly gathered speed.

  Chapter Twenty

  "What—? Where are we going?" At the moment, Violet sounded more curious than concerned, though Silas imagined that would soon change.

  "Just taking a little drive," he told her with careful casualness. "Don't like to leave the horses standing too long in weather like this, you know."

  She frowned. "That's all very well, but I think I had better go back inside before my parents wonder where I've got to. Stop the coach, please."

  He shooke his head with mock regret. "I'm sorry, Violet, but I can't do that."

  "What do you mean?" The first signs of real alarm sounded in her voice. "Of course you can stop."

  "Not if I'm going to mend my fortune —and you are going to help me to do just that. You now have two options: to marry me, or to be held for ransom —though that option will doubtless ruin your reputation beyond recall."

  With a strangled exclamation, she lunged for the door of the coach, but he easily stopped her, then moved to the seat opposite, between her and the door.

  "To think I believed you sincere in wanting to change," she exclaimed angrily. "You will never get away with this, you know. Grant and Dina will have noticed I left with you, and they know what your coach looks like. We'll be stopped before we've gone three miles."

  Silas shrugged. "They appeared quite thoroughly wrapped up in each other. I doubt they'll notice anything at all for quite some time." He couldn't quite conceal his bitterness, as that relationship was what had driven him to this step. "As for my coach, I have already considered that detail."

  They rounded a bend and a moment later the coach stopped by a stand of trees only a few yards from the road into Alford. There, another coach was waiting—a brown, nondescript traveling coach that looked nothing like Silas's green landau. Even the horses were a different color.

  Keeping a firm grip on Violet's arm, Silas opened the door. "I may need some help getting her inside," he called to the cloaked figure waiting by the new coach.

  "Couldn't get her to agree, eh?" he asked, moving forward.

  Violet stopped struggling to stare at the man. "Gregory? What on earth are you doing here?" Then, without waiting for him to answer, "You must help, me, please! Mr. Moore is trying to kidnap me—to force me into marriage."

  Plunkett shrugged. "That was the plan—or, well, the backup plan, if he couldn't get you to come willingly."

  "And you're helping him?" she demanded disbelievingly. "Why?"

  "Money, m'dear, what else? Since our elopement went awry, I've found myself increasingly in need of funds. Moore offered to help me out if I would help him out."

  Silas was growing impatient. At any moment Violet's absence might be noticed and the pursuit begin. "C'mon, c'mon, enough chatter. We need to be on our way."

  Suddenly, Violet wrenched her arm from his grasp and turned to run back the way they'd come. With a curse, Silas went after her, but Plunkett reached her first. She threw a wild punch at him, but missed. Pinning her arms to her sides to prevent her trying again, he thrust her toward Silas.

  "I begin to think it's as well we didn't marry, my dear, given your violent tendencies. Good luck with her, Moore."

  Violet turned and spat toward Plunkett. "You're a bounder and a cur, Gregory Plunkett. And a plagiarist, as well, for I discovered you did not write those poems you sent me. You'll get your comeuppance eventually, you'll see."

  Plunkett laughed, but Silas was increasingly agitated. Glancing back up the road, he forced Violet into the brown carriage and climbed in after her.

  "Get my coach off the road and hide it, if you want the rest of what I promised you," he barked to Plunkett. "Remember, if you're questioned, you haven't seen me since Christmas Eve." Slamming the door, he pounded on the roof of the coach and Jefferson whipped the horses to a fast trot. He just hoped it was fast enough.

  "You don't believe him, do you?" Dina asked as soon as they were out of earshot from Violet and Moore.

  Thor shrugged, unwilling to damage the new understanding that they had reached before Moore's arrival. "I would like to."

  "So would I," she said with a sigh, "but I've heard him say similar things too many times in the past to hold out much hope. He is uncannily adept at saying whatever he thinks people wish to hear if he thinks it will benefit him in some way."

  Thor glanced back at Moore and Violet, who were again talking together. "Have you told Violet that?"

  "Not in so many words, but surel
y you cannot think her in any danger from him now, after what happened yesterday? It seems clear that she has no romantic interest in Silas."

  "I suppose not," he agreed. "Still, a word to her about his powers of deception might not be amiss. Just now, however, I would like to sit out a dance with my wife in some secluded corner and forget such worries for a while."

  "Far be it from me to fault such a plan." Tucking her hand through his arm, she accompanied him to the far end of the barn, where all of the farming implements had been moved to make room for the dancing.

  Glancing back to be sure they were no longer being watched by the crowd, he drew her behind a partially disassembled threshing machine, then gently cupped her face between his hands. "Now, are you finally convinced that I find you desirable in every way, or do you need further proof?"

  Dina's green eyes sparkled up at him. "Given a choice like that, what can I say? Proof, please, sir."

  Chuckling, he bent down to capture her lips with his own, wishing he could spirit them both back to Plumrose, to the swimming pool. For now, though, this would have to suffice. Her lips were soft and pliable beneath his, promising him more delights later.

  "Mmm," she murmured when they finally parted. "Now, perhaps you need some proof of your own?"

  "I believe I've received it already, but I'm more than willing to have more."

  Smiling a most seductive smile, she twined her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers again.

  When they finally parted, he straightened up with a sigh. "Much as I would prefer to spend the rest of the afternoon here with you, we both have a responsibility to help my parents in their duties."

  "Goodness," Dina exclaimed guiltily. "I had nearly forgotten. I've promised dances to half a dozen lads, and I've no doubt all of the lasses are hoping for a dance with you as well."

  "I think our delay will be forgiven, but we'd best return to the party." They headed back to the lively end of the barn. "We can resume where we left off later tonight. I trust you will have no objection to another visit to the pool?"