An Heiress at Heart Read Online Free

above her, of a soft, cool cloth against her burning face.
    A sweet scent of roses kept urging her to inhale deeply, trying to lure her back to consciousness. But a piercing pain shot through her side with every breath, and the pounding behind her right temple kept forcing her back into a gauzy daze, unable to open her eyes.
    The murmuring paused, seemingly stilled by a rustle of skirts and a quick tread upon the floor. A woman’s sharp voice said, “Have you done nothing to bring her around?”
    “We have sent for Dr. Layton,” a man replied.
    “Tut, tut. You are as useless as your father was.”
    “My dear aunt, I must protest. I am sure I am a good deal more useless than he was.”
    Another disapproving noise, then a curt order. “Quick, Mary. Bring my smelling salts.”
    More rustling, followed by the assault of an acridsmell under her nose. She sneezed hard, wincing as a bolt of pain surged through her head.
    Gradually her eyes focused on an elderly lady dressed in a heavy silk gown of very dark green. The woman was looking down at her with a mixture of shock and astonishment.
    And then she remembered.
    She had been standing across the street from Lady Thornborough’s house, trying to make up her mind whether or not to approach it. Even now, after coming so far, she had hesitated. Could she carry out her plan? Would they believe her story?
    It had to be done. She had made a promise to a dying woman, and she would keep it. Both fever and chills had plagued her during the long walk up from the docks, compelling her to keep moving lest she faint dead away on the pavement.
    “You must go.” Ria’s voice had echoed in her ear. “I am counting on you.”
    Gathering her courage, she had stepped into the street. Her aching head had blurred the multitude of sounds on the busy thoroughfare, and the glare of the late afternoon sun had hidden the approach of a swiftly moving carriage.
    Now, Lizzie Poole lay motionless as she returned the gaze of the lady standing before her. The woman’s gray eyes matched the color of her hair, which was pulled back in a tight bun. Her regal manner indicated she was the lady of the house. This must be Lady Thornborough—the stern, implacable woman who had raised Ria.
    Would Lady Thornborough believe she was nowlooking at the granddaughter whom she had last seen ten years ago, when the girl was just seventeen? Or would she instantly recognize Lizzie as an imposter? Not entirely an imposter, she corrected herself. Ria had convinced her they were half sisters and told her where she could find proof. This made Lizzie a granddaughter of Lady Thornborough, too, although the old woman did not know it.
    And if Lizzie pretended to be Ria, what of it? Ria was dead now. Her relationship with Lady Thornborough had been a stormy one, and Ria had begged Lizzie to help her make amends. What better way to do this than to become Ria—to be the dutiful granddaughter Lady Thornborough had always wished for? As an illegitimate granddaughter, Lizzie could do nothing; as Ria, she could claim everything. Ria had given her blessing to the scheme; in fact, it had been her idea.
    For several long, agonizing moments Lizzie watched as Lady Thornborough’s face remained stern and inscrutable. Then she frowned and shook her head.
    Lizzie closed her eyes. I have failed, she thought. She knows I am not Ria. She fought a surge of disappointment. Ria had so thoroughly described the family, the house, and the servants, that Lizzie believed she could walk through the door and take up the life her half sister had left behind. Now she was seized with fear that they would toss her into the street before she even had a chance to explain.
    At last, Lady Thornborough spoke. “Ria, where have you been?”
    Her words were crisp, but not unkind—and sweet to Lizzie’s ears. Relief washed over her, for one blessedmoment stemming the pain that wracked her body. Lady Thornborough believed her to be Ria. She could stay. She