The Runaway Heiress by Anne O'Brien Read Free Book Online

worth it?'
    'Show
some respect, damn you!' Aldeborough surprised his friend by surging to his
feet, rounding on him in a sudden whiplash of temper. 'Do you really think I
would seduce an innocent young girl?'
    'Probably
not. Probably too drunk.'
    Aldeborough
relaxed a little, bared his teeth in the semblance of a grin, admitting the
truth of it. 'You should know—I have asked Miss Hanwell to marry me.'
    Ambrose
paused as the significance of this statement sank in. 'Forgive me. I didn't
realise. But, Hugh!' He rose to his feet, took a hasty turn about the room and
returned to stand before the fireplace. 'Don't let them trap you into marriage.
You wouldn't want to be connected with the Torrington set. And apart from that,
she would not seem to have much to recommend her. She is no beauty.'
    'No,
she is not. But I believe that she needs a refuge. I can provide one.'
Aldeborough turned away with weary resignation. 'What does it matter? As my
loving mother would tell you, it is high time I took a wife and, produced an
heir to the Lafford estates. Any girl would marry me for my wealth and title.
At least Miss Hanwell is not a fortune hunter.'
    'What
makes you so sure? Torrington would be more than happy to get his hands on your
money through his niece. He probably put her up to it.'
    Sardonic
amusement flitted across Aldeborough's face. 'I am certain that Miss Hanwell is
no fortune hunter, because so far she has refused my offer.'
    'I
don't believe it!' Ambrose stared in amazement.
    'Oh,
it is true. And, I might tell you, it has been quite a blow to my self-esteem
to be turned down!'
     
    *    *    *
    The third stair from the
bottom creaked loudly under her foot. Frances froze and held her breath,
listening intently to the silent spaces around her. Nothing. Clutching her
cloak about her with one hand and a bandbox containing her few borrowed
possessions with the other, Frances continued her cautious descent. The
splendidly panelled entrance hall, its polished oak floorboards stretching
before her, was deserted—she had planned that it was late enough for all the
servants to have retired. A branch of candles was still burning by the main
door, presumably now locked and bolted, but it made little impression on the
shadowy corners. If she could make her way through to the kitchens and
servants' quarters, surely she could find an easier method of escape—an unlocked
door or even a window if no other means of escape presented itself.
    After her rapid exit from
the drawing room earlier in the day, she had remained in her room, pleading a
headache, and submitting to the kindly ministrations of Mrs Scott. It had
become clear to her through much heartsearching that she must not only make
some decisions, but act on them before she was drawn any further into the
present train of events over which she appeared to have less and less control.
She had allowed herself a few pleasant moments of daydreaming, imagining
herself accepting Aldeborough's, offer to allow her to live a life of luxury
and comfort. She pictured herself taking the ton by storm, clad in a cloud of palest green gauze and silk. When she reached the
point of waltzing round a glittering ballroom with diamond earrings and
fashionably curled and ringletted hair, in the arms of a tall darkly handsome
man, she rapidly pulled herself together and banished Aldeborough's austere
features and elegant figure from her mind.
    He has no wish to marry you , she told herself
sternly. He is only moved by honour and duty and
pity. She had had enough of that. And since when was it possible to rely
on any man when his own selfish interests were involved? It would be far more
sensible to find somewhere to take refuge for a few short months until she
reached her twenty-ft rut birthday and the promise of her inheritance.
    There was only one avenue
of escape open to her. She would make her way to London and throw herself on the
mercy of her maternal relatives. Even though they had tumid their