The Runaway Heiress by Anne O'Brien

Author:Anne O'Brien [O’Brien, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781460818657
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises Pty Ltd, Australia
Published: 2012-10-13T11:00:00+00:00

Frances heard Aldeborough return in the early evening. She was in her bedroom when she heard his door open and close. She waited, but he made no attempt to communicate with her.

Now or never. She swallowed her nerves and walked through the adjoining dressing room, knocked firmly on his door and entered without waiting for a reply.

Things did not look promising. Aldeborough was standing with his back to the room looking out over the formal gardens. He did not turn round when she entered. Despite the early hour, he held a glass of brandy in one hand. He looked windswept and mud splattered, but had made no attempt to change his clothes. She could not see his expression.

‘I have come to ask your forgiveness. I did not know about Richard.’ Her voice was soft but firm.

Still he did not turn to face her. ‘I believe that I should be the one apologising to you.’ His tone was bleak and insufferably polite. ‘Ambrose told me that it was an innocent comment. Indeed, I am sure it was.’

‘Oh.’

‘Did you talk to Aunt May?’

‘Yes.’

‘So now you know the whole sorry story.’

‘Yes. I could wish that you had told me.’

‘I did not see the need.’

‘No. You told me, as I remember, that it was none of my affair.’ Frances found it hard to contain her growing frustration.

He turned at that, his face pale, his expression stark.

‘And I would rather, in future, that you did not discuss my personal affairs with Ambrose.’

She drew in her breath before she could make a sharp reply. Now was not the time for temper.

‘Very well.’

Silence stretched between them.

‘Why will you not talk to me about your brother?’ She tried again. ‘You made me tell you about the marks on my back, the beatings. You gave me comfort.’

‘It is not the same.’

‘Why not?’ she persisted, hoping to break through the barrier that he had so effectively built around the painful wounds. ‘Scars are the same whether on the body or soul. Talk to me about Richard, Hugh.’ He noted her use of his given name, still something rare, but he still rejected her attempts at reconciliation.

‘You know all there is to know from Aunt May. I can tell you nothing more.’

‘But I care that you have been maligned. How could anyone possibly believe that you would harm your brother?’

‘You do not know me,’ he said bitterly. ‘How do you know what I am capable of?’

She put out a hand as if to touch him, to offer comfort. He drew back, imperceptibly, but she sensed his reaction. It hurt.

‘I don’t need your pity.’

‘I was not offering any.’

‘Then, if there is nothing else you wish to say … I have to dress for dinner.’

‘No. I have nothing more to say. You have made the matter very clear.’ Pride came to her rescue. ‘I will not impose on you further. I clearly misinterpreted our relationship.’ She could not resist it. ‘Perhaps you should inform me of the subjects that I am allowed to discuss in future!’

She turned on her heel and made a dignified exit, head high.

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