The Fugitive Heiress Read Free Page B

grateful for the half loaf, she would have debated the last point had not the sound of voices in the hall arrested his attention. “I believe you are about to meet my mother, Miss Westering.”
    The doors flung wide and Elizabeth, Dowager Countess of Dambroke, hurried into the room with silk skirts rustling. She ignored her son, who had risen to his feet, and passed straight on to Catheryn. The countess was small and round and, though nearing the middle forties, still very pretty. Dressed in yellow with pale blue ribbons, she carried a light shawl over her arm and wore a frivolous lace cap with matching ribbons perched upon her soft brown curls. The cap ribbons fluttered as she approached, and the total effect was charming. Though rather awed by her ladyship’s entrance, Catheryn had stood up automatically when Dambroke did and now proceeded to make her graceful curtsey. Immediately the countess’s two soft hands stretched out to her.
    “Come, come, child! Stand up and let me look at you. I am Lady Dambroke, you know.” She raised Catheryn to her feet and, gazing straight into the dark eyes, demanded, “But who are you, my dear? My servants informed me only that Dambroke has been closeted for more than half an hour with an unknown girl. I had quite given up hope of his ever falling in love, I must tell you. And here he is inviting you to visit with never a word of it to me!”

II
    C ATHERYN BLUSHED FIERY RED and the earl interrupted hastily. “Mama, this is Miss Catheryn Westering, granddaughter of the late Sir Cedric Westering, my grandfather’s cousin.”
    “Yes, yes, Dambroke, but how did you meet her and why have you never mentioned her to me before?”
    The humor of the situation struck Catheryn as she watched the earl try to bring things into focus for his parent. “I met her here today, Mama. She has run away from home.”
    “How shocking!” The countess surveyed Catheryn more closely. “But how fortunate that she should choose to run here and at this particular moment!” Catheryn stared at the pair of them. Her ladyship seemed to be attempting a sort of silent communication with her son. He only looked grim. “Surely,” she insisted, “it’s the very thing! But come, child—Miss Westering, did you say?” Catheryn nodded, smiling shyly, too bemused to speak. She found her hands clasped tightly, and two bright blue eyes twinkled into her own. “You must come with me at once and tell me about yourself.”
    “Mama! Miss Westering belongs with her relatives. I have already explained to her that she must return at once.”
    But her ladyship seemed not a bit cast down by his harsh tone. “Nonsense, my dear. She cannot leave at once. How absurd! Order a bedchamber prepared for her immediately. She certainly cannot leave before morning, and perhaps we shall contrive to keep her for a short visit.” Noting his stern look and rigid jaw, her ladyship was moved to entreaty. “You must see, dear, that she is the answer to a prayer.” It was clear that he did not see. “Dambroke, only consider Tiffany!”
    “I have considered Tiffany more than enough for one day, madam. Where is she, by the way? I thought her to be with you.”
    “Oh no. She does not like Letty Mearing, you know. She was upstairs when I left, rather indisposed, poor dear.”
    “Sulking in her room, you mean,” retorted Dambroke in exasperated tones.
    “Very likely.” Her ladyship was unconcerned. “Nevertheless, she is quite cast down and needs a distraction. Miss Westering may be the very thing.”
    Catheryn felt a little like the ball at a tennis match but was fascinated by the dialogue and waited anxiously for his lordship’s response. He glanced in her direction and then looked straight into her eyes, his expression thoughtful. At last, he looked back at the countess.
    “There is a certain matter concerning Miss Westering that I should like Ashley to look into, and she did express a wish to remain in town for a while. She