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

was anger as well as shock in his voice. 'Tell
me.' He gave her shoulders a little squeeze in an effort to dislodge the blank
fear in her eyes. It worked, for she swallowed convulsively and was able to
focus on his concerned face.
    'It's just that once I
tried to run away,' she managed to explain. 'It was a silly childish dream that
I might escape. But I was caught, you see...and...'
    'And?'
    'My uncle punished
me—whipped me—for disobedience. He said I was ungrateful and I must be taught
to appreciate what I had been given. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...' Her voice
trailed away into silence, her expression one of utmost desolation.
    Aldeborough gently removed
her cloak from her now unresisting body. He steered her away from the shards of
glass, scattered like crystal tears on the polished wood, and pushed her into a
chair before the dying embers of the fire. He poured a little brandy into a
glass and handed it to her.
    'Here. Drink this. Don't
argue, it will make you feel better—it's good for shock amongst other things.
Although, from experience, I do not advise it as an aid to helping you forget.'
The touch of sardonic humour at his own expense allowed Frances to relax a
little and do as she was told. 'Now, tell me—what did you expect the Rector to
be able to do for you that I couldn't?'
    She sipped the brandy
again, which made her eyes water, but at least it stilled the shivering. 'I
thought that he would lend me some money to enable me to reach London where I
could make contact with my relations,' she explained.
    'But you told me you
didn't have any.'
    'It is my mother's
family.' She was once more able to command her voice and her breathing. 'They
disowned her, you understand, when she married my father. They thought he was a
fortune hunter and too irresponsible, so they cut all contact.'
    'Your father, I presume,
was Torrington's younger brother. I never knew him.'
    'Yes. Adam Hanwell. I
remember nothing of him—he died when I was very young.'
    'And your
mother?'
    'She was Cecilia Mortimer.
She died just after I was born. That's why I was brought up at Torrington Hall
and Viscount Torrington is my guardian.'
    'As I understand it, the
Mortimers are related to the Wigmore family.'
    'Yes. My grandfather was
the Earl of Wigmore. I hoped the present Earl would not abandon me entirely if
he knew I was in trouble. I believe he is my cousin. Do you think he would?'
    'I have no idea. And I
cannot claim to be impressed by your plan.' Aldeborough ran his hand through
his hair in exasperation. 'If they refuse to recognise you, you will be left
standing outside their town house in Portland Square, with no money and no
acquaintance in London. Or what if they are out of town and the house is shut
up? Do you intend to bivouac on their doorstep until they return? It is a crazy
scheme and you will do well to forget it.'
    'It's no more crazy than
you forcing me into a marriage I do not want!' Frances was stung into sharp
reply. 'You have no right to be so superior!'
    'I have every right. There
is no point in making the situation worse than it is already.'
    Frances sighed. 'It seemed
a good idea at the time.' She raised her hands in hopeless entreaty and then
let them fall back into her lap. 'Do you think I could be an actress?'
    'Never!' Aldeborough
laughed without humour. 'Every emotion is written clearly on your face. I
cannot believe that you would actually consider such a harebrained scheme.'
    'No. But desperation can
lead to unlikely eventualities.' She tried to smile, but it was a poor attempt.
    The Marquis noted the
emotion that shimmered just below the surface, prompting him to take the brandy
glass from her. She did not resist. 'Let us be sensible.' He returned to lean
his arm along the mantelpiece and stirred the smouldering logs with one booted
foot. 'I think that we are agreed that you have very few realistic options.
There is no guarantee of a favourable welcome from Wigmore. You have spent far
too long unchaperoned in