Free The Fugitive Heiress by Amanda Scott

merrily. “I suppose you are off to Jackson’s then,” she said, referring to the great Gentleman Jackson’s boxing saloon. “Of course, you will take a bite with us first.”
    “I think not,” he replied curtly, casting a scowl in Catheryn’s direction. Really, she thought, he needn’t lay it on so thick.
    Lady Dambroke was astonished and looked from one face to another, seeking an explanation. Catheryn looked conscious, Tiffany embarrassed, and the earl saturnine. “Richard, whatever is the matter?” the countess demanded.
    “It is nothing important, Mama.”
    “That’s not so,” Tiffany argued. “Richard is at outs with poor Catheryn, Mama, and indeed he should not be, for it was quite my fault!”
    Fearing that Dambroke would ruin all by agreeing, Catheryn broke into hasty speech. “Oh, no! Please, my lady, you must not!” She gazed imploringly first at Tiffany and then, with slightly more intent, at his lordship. “Indeed, it was my own selfish stupidity. He is right to be angry with me.” Disconcerted by a gleam of wicked amusement in Dambroke’s eye, she dropped her gaze to his shining Hessians and continued, “I-I have told him I am s-sorry. I had hoped the affair was ended.”
    The countess whisked to Catheryn’s side, putting a protective arm around her before turning on her son. “Richard, I rarely interfere, as you well know, but Catheryn is my guest, and I’ll not have her bullied. I do not know what she can have done in the short time she has been with us to incur your displeasure, but it cannot have been anything so dreadful. You must apologize at once.” Then she quite ruined the effect of her uncharacteristic vehemence by adding, “Please, Richard?”
    Catheryn, peeping from under her lashes at him, was much impressed by his iron control. The inner struggle with his sense of the ridiculous was not lost upon her. As it was, he was forced to brush a hand across his brow before answering. “I do apologize, Miss Westering. Though I must say that for me to worry when you are so foolish as to take one of my high-spirited mounts to Hyde Park without my knowledge or approval is no odd thing. However, I did not intend that my few words of well-deserved censure should overset you.” Catheryn shot him a speaking look and encountered one filled with mockery that as much as told her she was being served with her own sauce. The countess’s arm dropped.
    “Oh, Catheryn,” she gasped, “you didn’t!” Her words effectively silenced her daughter who, for a split second at least, had looked ready to join battle in Catheryn’s defense.
    Catheryn, taking the sideplay in with an oblique glance, stepped forward and placed one demurely gloved hand in Dambroke’s. Her lips twitched and she dared not look into his eyes, but she kept her soft voice under admirable control. “That is kind of you, my lord,” she said. “I accept your generous apology and promise it shall not happen again.” At this juncture, the earl, with a hasty mumble that Ashley would soon be upon him, turned rather precipitately and escaped out the front door.
    Tiffany’s face was a mixture of emotions. Guilt, hesitation, and determination all vied with one another. The countess still looked a bit shocked, and knowing it would only upset her to hear a more detailed account of the affair, Catheryn frowned Tiffany to silence before turning with a smile to her hostess. “Dear Aunt Elizabeth, do you suppose luncheon has been served? I confess I am exceedingly hungry.”
    With relief, Tiffany and her mother both agreed that if luncheon were not ready it ought to be. With that they retired to the dining room and subsequently to their bedchambers, where they spent a half-hour recuperating from the morning’s exertions before setting out to pay calls.
    The countess explained on the way to the Cowpers’ great house in Berkeley Square that, along with Ladies Castlereagh, Sefton, and Jersey, Mrs. Drummond Burrell, Countess Lieven,