An Heiress at Heart Read Online Free Page A

reached for the cloth on her temple and sat up, despite the fresh round of pain this set off in her throbbing head. So many things she had planned to say, yet all she could do was answer Lady Thornborough’s question: Where have you been? “Why, Australia, of course…” she murmured, her voice trailing off.
    “Australia?” Lady Thornborough repeated in mortified surprise. She sat down and put her arms around Lizzie. “Oh, my dear girl.”
    This was not at all what Lizzie had been expecting, but she accepted it gratefully. She relaxed into the woman’s comforting embrace, thankful for the way the cool silk of Lady Thornborough’s dress soothed her burning cheek. Soft whispers of guilt stirred within her; awareness that this plan could hurt the woman whose love and respect Ria had so longed for. But Lizzie was ill and exhausted, and her body ached everywhere. She had set her course, and she would stick with it. And in any case, she had nowhere else to go.
    Slowly she became aware of a man sitting on a nearby footstool. He leaned his chin on a gold-handled cane and examined her with curiosity.
    “You have changed, Ria,” he said. “I don’t remember your eyes tending so much to the violet. You are certainly much thinner, and your skin is brown as a farm girl’s. But you remember me, don’t you, my girl?”
    He gave her an encouraging smile. Lizzie studied him carefully. He was a slender man of about thirty, with curly brown hair and cornflower blue eyes. And well dressed. He wore a fine gold vest and white shirt undera tailored blue coat that showed off his square shoulders to their best advantage. A cravat of the same color as his vest was tied in an expert knot at the base of his crisp shirt collar. The only thing marring his handsome features was the tiniest bump on his nose—a souvenir, Ria had called it, of a day long ago when he had fallen out of a tree.
    The man must be James Simpson. He met every one of Ria’s descriptions of her favorite cousin. His clothing proclaimed that he was still a dandy, and Lizzie wondered if he was also, as Ria had said, “a wastrel and a wild one, the sort who was always getting into the kind of trouble that requires ‘hushing up.’ ”
    Certain as she was, Lizzie was still anxious as she answered him, hoping fervently that her instincts were correct. “It appears you have not changed, James.”
    “That’s a girl!” He laughed and slapped his knee. “You see, Geoffrey, it is Ria.”
    This last remark was addressed to a man standing on the opposite side of the parlor. Lizzie could just see him beyond the large round table in the center of the room, upon which sat a brightly painted vase of yellow roses.
    Geoffrey?
    The only “Geoffrey” that Ria had ever spoken of was her husband’s younger brother. Ria had never met Geoffrey, but Edward had once described him as staid and scholarly, destined for a life in the church. Given this description, Lizzie had envisioned a short and nondescript man, perhaps wearing spectacles, shabbily dressed, and stooped from too much studying.
    The man watching her from the fireplace wasnothing like that. He stood tall and straight. His fine brown hair was clean and expertly cut; his short side whiskers trimmed a face that was pleasantly intriguing, if not classically handsome. His dark eyes, unguarded by spectacles, watched her intently. His black suit was far more understated than the royal blue coat James was wearing, but it was new and fit him well.
    No, this could not be Ria’s brother-in-law. And yet James had called him by his Christian name. Was there someone else in the family by that name? Was Lizzie not as well prepared as she thought she was?
    She tried not to panic, telling herself he was probably not a family member. Ria had said that James had a wide circle of acquaintances. Given his easy and irreverent manner, he might well refer to his close friends so familiarly. But this thought did not reassure her. How many of