And then they began to dance.
It was the easiest thing in the world to follow Geoffrey’s lead. Her steps melted into his as they joined the rhythm of the music. In no time they were gliding expertly around the room as though they had practiced for years. Moving so effortlessly, so beautifully, the whole time Geoffrey’s eyes never leaving her face. Perhaps she had had too much punch as well, for she became giddy and light-headed as they swirled around the floor. Geoffrey was a fine dancer. Yet another anomaly of this clergyman turned peer. How many other surprises did he hold? She fervently hoped she would have the opportunity to find out. She felt her heart slipping away to this man more and more with each encounter.
Gradually Lizzie became aware that she and Geoffrey were beginning to receive more than just a few casual glances. “I do believe,” she murmured, “that everyone is staring at us.” She had leaned in to say this, and now felt the heat of his cheek, so close to hers.
“Does it make you uncomfortable? Do you wish to stop?”
“No,” she breathed. “I wish never to stop.”
He laughed and whirled her again, and she gave herself up to the pleasure of it. She reveled in the music that moved her soul, in the thrill of being in Geoffrey’s arms, in the pleasing sound of his laughter, in the way everything and everyone blurred to a delightful palette of colors as they kept time with the waltz and the beating of her own heart.
It was a perfect night. There was no one in the room but her and Geoffrey; everyone else had faded away, indistinct…
Until she saw Freddie.
Lizzie staggered, tripping over Geoffrey as her feet came down in the wrong place.
It couldn’t be. It was impossible. Freddie Hightower was dead—Tom had killed him.
She tried desperately to find air, but there was none left in the room. She saw no colors now—only white spots before her eyes.
“Ria, what is the matter?” Geoffrey asked anxiously.
This could not be happening. They had been moving so quickly that her vision must have become distorted. She had only imagined she had seen Freddie. Lizzie willed herself to remain calm and opened her eyes.
Geoffrey held her, his arms providing steadiness and reassurance while Lizzie tried to regain her bearings. She hazarded a look past Geoffrey’s shoulder. She was facing the side of the room where the small orchestra was sitting. She thought she had seen Freddie leaning against a door to one of the parlors. She would have to move, to force herself to turn and look in that direction, to prove to herself that she had been mistaken. She brought her gaze back to Geoffrey’s face. “I do feel a bit light-headed. I should perhaps sit down.”
“Of course.”
She kept her eyes straight ahead as they navigated through the dancers to a row of chairs. When they were seated, Lizzie opened her fan and began fanning herself. “I only need a moment,” she said apologetically.
Geoffrey nodded, waiting patiently. Lizzie finally worked up enough courage to peek over her fan and look across the room.
There he was, looking at her so intently that he might have started a fire with the heat of his gaze.
Freddie Hightower was alive.
Chapter 20
An icy horror settled over her. She was looking at Freddie Hightower—how was this possible?
He stood unmoving, his eyes fastened on her with a ferocity she had seen countless times. Impossible to forget.
“Shall I find you a glass of punch?” Geoffrey asked.
“No!” Lizzie shrieked. She saw the alarm in his eyes and the tension in his body, and she forced herself to take a deep breath and speak calmly. She must not let him see that anything was amiss. “Please don’t go. Not just yet.”
He patted her arm solicitously. “As you wish.”
Freddie strode toward them. It took time to work his way across the crowded room, but his eyes were fixed on them, stalking them like prey. Lizzie’s mind was whirling in a thousand directions at once. How was he here? Clearly he had recognized her as easily as she had him. Could she convince him she was someone else? Everything Ria had ever shared about her life threatened to dissolve from Lizzie’s brain in the heat of Freddie’s gaze. He could expose her. And he would do it in a heartbeat.
She drew in another deep breath, sat straighter in her chair, and poised herself to look as calm as possible. “Geoffrey, I believe a glass of punch would do me good after all.”
He nodded and rose. “I shall be back directly.”
Geoffrey disappeared into the crowd. Lizzie was alone now, perilously vulnerable, a small ship in a great gale. And still Freddie advanced.
A group of ladies standing nearby parted to reveal that Lady Thornborough was coming to join her, too. She took the chair Geoffrey had vacated, her face lined with worry. “Ria, my dear, are you ill? I saw you falter and leave the dance floor just now. You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
So I have. She fanned herself and forced a smile. “I overexerted myself, that’s all.” She kept her gaze averted from Freddie, but her skin prickled sharply, sensing his approach.
In another instant, he was upon them. “I beg your pardon for the intrusion, Lady Thornborough.” He spoke with the cultured, self-confident voice Lizzie remembered too well. “We met at the Harrisons’ dinner party last spring.”
Lady Thornborough studied him as though it were taking her a moment to recall his name. After a moment she said, “Mr. Hightower, is it not?” There was a cool archness in her voice that was unusual, even for her.
Freddie smiled as though he had received the warmest greeting in the world. He gave a small bow. “At your service, madam.”
Lizzie could not allow him to see how badly she was shaken. With great difficulty, she kept her expression neutral and pretended to watch the dancing. But she was intensely aware of his hot gaze upon her.
After the necessary formalities, Freddie said, “I hope that you will forgive my forwardness, Lady Thornborough, if I ask you to introduce me to your lovely companion.”
Lady Thornborough turned to Lizzie. “Have you two not met?”
Lizzie forced her eyes to meet Freddie’s, fighting back revulsion at the sight of him. Had he recognized her? He must have. This request for an introduction was his way of toying with her. She grappled to maintain an outward air of calm. “I believe I have not had the pleasure.”
“Well, then, I suppose introductions are in order,” Lady Thornborough said. “Mr. Hightower, this is my granddaughter, Mrs. Edward Somerville.”
Freddie’s eyebrows shot up at these words. Lizzie savored a small burst of pleasure at seeing him put momentarily off-balance. But he recovered himself and gave her a bow. “How do you do, Mrs. Somerville?” He spoke the name stiffly.
Lizzie held out her hand. She was glad to see that it trembled only slightly. It might not even be noticeable. Freddie grasped it and made a small bow over it as he said smoothly, “A pleasure, I’m sure.” He held it for a fraction of a second too long, as though trying to inspect it carefully in spite of the silk glove covering it. It took every ounce of her will to keep from wrenching her hand away, to wait until he released it.
He straightened. “I had heard that Lady Thornborough’s granddaughter had lately returned to London. From Australia, I hear?”
“Yes, that is true.”
“How long were in you in Australia exactly?”
His dark eyes bore into her, as they had used to do when he was willing her to guess his hand at whist and follow his lead. “My husband and I,” she said, deliberately laying stress on the word husband, “went to Australia ten years ago.”
Lady Thornborough nodded her confirmation, and Lizzie was pleased to see Freddie’s look of consternation. Ria had been in Australia for ten years, but Lizzie’s fateful affair with Freddie had ended just five years ago. The time gap was clearly puzzling him.
“My granddaughter is a widow now,” Lady Thornborough said. “Sadly, Mr. Somerville died two years ago.”
La
dy Thornborough probably stressed the point of two years having passed to show the propriety of Lizzie’s presence at the ball tonight. But she was also helping, albeit unknowingly, to strengthen Lizzie’s deception. It would be difficult for Freddie to refute these facts concerning Ria’s history.
Freddie turned sympathetic eyes on her, in an expression that Lizzie knew was thoroughly calculated. Everything Freddie did was calculated. “My condolences, Mrs. Somerville. I hope that your return to London may be the beginning of brighter days.”
“You are very kind,” Lizzie replied, trying not to choke on the words. Her face and arms suddenly ached, as though they had the power to remember and feel all over again the bruises that had once covered them. Bruises Freddie had put there.
“We thank you, Mr. Hightower,” Lady Thornborough said, “for taking the time to speak to us.” Her words were polite, but her tone implied that the conversation was over, and that she expected him to do the proper thing and move on.
But Freddie did not take his leave. He continued standing there, taking in Lizzie from head to toe as though making an inventory of every feature. A slow flush began to invade Lizzie’s face under the scrutiny. She deliberately turned her head away, as though affronted by his rudeness.
Freddie caught her meaning. “Mrs. Somerville, I beg you will forgive my impudent staring. My only excuse is that you have me completely flummoxed. You see, you bear a remarkable resemblance to another”—a faint smirk crossed his face—“ lady I know.”
Lizzie seethed, her fear now tinged with anger. He was going to bring it up, and in front of Lady Thornborough, too. She must stop it from going further. She gave one of Ria’s high-pitched giggles, so different from her own throaty laugh, and was glad to see Freddie flinch a little at the sound. “Why, Mr. Hightower, how provoking you are. How can you possibly expect to win my regard by telling me I look like someone else?” She arched an eyebrow. “Who was this person anyway?”
An almost imperceptible look of annoyance flashed across Freddie’s face. But he said derisively, “No one of consequence.”
Lizzie fought to keep her physical reaction to this cutting remark buried deep within her. She turned to Lady Thornborough and said with mocking disdain, “Grandmamma, I do not care at all for this gentleman. He tells me I look exactly like a woman of no consequence!”
Lady Thornborough was not amused. She glared at Freddie, who took the cue and gave Lizzie a contrite look. “I do most humbly beg your pardon. As I look more closely, I can see I was in error. There could be no one on this earth who compares to you.”
She gave another high-pitched laugh. “Well, Mr. Hightower, I am in a generous frame of mind tonight. Seeing that we are but newly acquainted, I shall forgive you.” Lizzie could hardly believe the way she managed to demonstrate such frivolity when she felt as though she were standing on the edge of a precipice.
Freddie, it seemed, would make every effort to push her right over that edge. “Now that I am in your good graces,” he said, “would you do me the very great honor of dancing with me?”
Lizzie knew she must avoid dancing with him at all costs. Even a few moments in his arms might give her away completely. “That is very kind, Mr. Hightower, but…” She tried to think of a way to decline his offer without raising his suspicions.
Lady Thornborough answered for her. “My granddaughter is not well at present. She will not be dancing anymore this evening.”
Freddie’s pretended gallantry now became all friendliness and concern. “Perhaps you would revive with a bit of refreshment? Allow me to fetch you something to drink.”
“There is no need,” Lady Thornborough said. “Lord Somerville is returning with it now.”
Geoffrey was indeed working his way through the crowd with a glass of punch in his hands. Upon seeing Freddie, he frowned and quickened his pace.
Freddie clearly had no intention of waiting for his arrival. “It has been a pleasure,” he said, bowing to the ladies once more. To Lizzie he said, “I look forward to dancing with you another time, when you feel more… yourself.” As he left them, he purposefully chose a direction that would prevent him from crossing paths with Geoffrey.
Geoffrey handed the glass to Lizzie, his eyes following Freddie’s retreat with a look of distaste. “I see you have met Mr. Hightower.”
“Yes, but we did not encourage him to stay,” Lady Thornborough said with thinly veiled disdain.
“I am glad to hear it,” Geoffrey said.
Lizzie tried to speculate on what Freddie could have done to cause their dislike. Then again, this was Freddie. He was as good at making enemies as he was at charming friends.
Lizzie sipped the punch gratefully. Its alcoholic content soothed her sorely abused nerves as well as her parched throat. “Is there some reason you should not wish me to know Mr. Hightower?”
Freddie had joined himself by now to a small group of men and ladies chatting together on the far side of the room. One young lady in particular could not take her eyes off him. She dropped her glove and he picked it up, kissing it with a flourish before handing it back. The girl blushed so brightly that Lizzie could see her fiery red cheeks plainly, despite the distance.
Geoffrey was also watching this little display. “You see how graciously he acts in polite society. But there is another side of him that is both ungentlemanly and dangerous.” His expression was solemn. “Particularly where naïve young ladies are concerned.”
“Very true,” Lady Thornborough agreed. “No regard for common decency.” She lowered her voice. “Several years ago he thought nothing of taking a common girl—a shopkeeper’s daughter, or some such—off to Europe.”
“Is… is that so?” Lizzie stammered.
Lady Thornborough nodded. “He lived with her for nearly a year. I mean, he lived with her publicly. He even took her into polite society. Not that anyone there seemed to mind. The Europeans have nothing like the English sense of decorum.”
“Perhaps…” Lizzie’s voice sounded hoarse. She took another generous sip of punch. “Perhaps she thought he would marry her.”
“Then she was a fool,” Lady Thornborough declared. “She ought to have known such a marriage could never take place.”
She ought to have known.
These words burned Lizzie to the core. It was a harsh blow, after Lady Thornborough had taken her in and shown her such kindness. Of course, she had done so only because she thought Lizzie was her privileged granddaughter. Like everyone else in her class, Lady Thornborough would believe that when it came to status, high was high and low was low, and there was no changing it. The rich and the poor might meet together, Lizzie thought sourly, but they never marry. Lizzie was sorely tempted to lash out in anger. But she knew she must never allow Lady Thornborough to see how deeply her words had hurt her. And in any case, she had been a fool. A wanton fool.
“He finally broke it off, of course,” Lady Thornborough said. “He was forced to. His mother began legal process to disinherit him, knowing he would come to his senses if his wealth depended on it. He returned to England and was married within three months—to Helena Graham, the daughter of a wealthy manufacturer.”
It was almost too much for Lizzie to take in. “Married? So quickly?” Nothing in his conduct this evening would have suggested that Freddie was a married man.
“His parents were of the misguided opinion that marriage would reform him,” Geoffrey said. He threw a disparaging look at Freddie. “Clearly, it did not.”
“I almost wish his parents had not interfered,” Lady Thornborough said. “He was better off in Europe, cavorting with the sort of people who find no offense in such behavior. The man does nothing but court scandal.”
Lady Thornborough’s attention was caught by Mrs. Paddington, who was signaling to her from across the room. “Ria, are you well enough for me to leave you for a few minutes?”
“I will be fine,” Lizzie replied, thinking that it would actually be a relief to have her gone.
> “I’ll stay with her,” Geoffrey said.
“Thank you, Lord Somerville. I won’t be gone long.” She gave Lizzie’s hand a squeeze. It was meant to be comforting; it was not.
Lizzie watched her go, still reeling from the evening’s discoveries. She had come face to face with the man who had once nearly ruined her life. She had heard Lady Thornborough’s contempt for the woman who had run off with him. To hear herself spoken of as some distant, unknown person, the daughter of a mere “shopkeeper”—had rent her soul.
It was a sharp reminder to Lizzie that she must never, ever forget the true state of affairs. She would be the cause of a much greater scandal this time around if she were discovered. She would face far more serious consequences than simply having to find her way home from Vienna.
Lizzie drained the last of the punch from her glass.
Chapter 21
Shall I get you more punch?” Geoffrey asked.
“No, thank you.” Lizzie knew her smile was wavering, but it seemed to appease him nonetheless. He took her empty glass and set it on the tray of a passing waiter.
The evening had begun so magnificently, Lizzie thought ruefully. She had made her grand entrance, bluffed her way through every introduction, won everyone’s admiration. Tonight should have been a great triumph. How could she have guessed there would be a man here who could quickly turn her world to ashes?
She looked up at the man standing next to her—the man whose company had made the evening all the more wonderful. She desperately wished they could return to that moment on the dance floor before she had seen Freddie. They had moved so well together that Lizzie had forgotten she had any cares in the world. Freddie had brought back her troubles tenfold. The new life she had been carefully constructing now threatened to topple as completely as a house built on sand.
An Heiress at Heart Page 15
