The Unknown Heir

‘Yes, for it was sadly damaged by fire last year, was it not?’ Lady Ireland frowned. ‘It was fortunate for the duke that you were there and happened to have gone down for a book.’

‘Yes, that was fortunate,’ Hester said, her smooth brow wrinkling. ‘I smelled the smoke and roused the servants. It was contained to the ground floor, but had it really caught hold…’ A shiver ran through her, for she knew that they might all have died in their beds, but particularly the duke, whose apartments were immediately above where the fire had started.

‘Have you ever discovered how it happened?’ Lady Ireland asked. ‘Was it merely a careless servant or…?’

‘I wish that I could answer you,’ Hester replied, looking anxious. ‘I cannot think it was started deliberately, for who would do such a thing? If Grandfather had died…’

‘But the heir was at that time living in America, was he not? I dare say he had not been told he was the heir, for your father had been dead only a few weeks, and the duke waited some months before sending for him, I believe?’

‘Yes.’ Hester furrowed her brow. ‘Grandfather did make some inquiries regarding the entail. I think if it were possible he might have had it legally broken, but it proved too expensive. You see, there is actually another heir. That meant he would have had to settle two claims rather than one, for Mr Stephen Grant would have had a claim if the heir died. Grandfather gave up then, for it would have beggared the estate to pay them both.’

‘Is that so?’ Lady Ireland raised her brows. ‘I did not realise that the duke had any other relations. I thought it was just you, your mother and the American heir.’

‘Grandfather had a half-brother, the son of his father’s second wife,’ Hester said. ‘They quarrelled many years ago and he lost touch with Philip. He was vaguely aware that Philip and his wife had a daughter, but the families did not visit, and he knew nothing of Philip’s grandson until recently, when he sent a polite note asking if he might call.’

Lady Ireland frowned. ‘And did he call? Have you met him, Hester? What manner of man is he?’

‘Oh, quite the gentleman,’ Hester told her. ‘I think Grandfather found him acceptable, if a little irritating.’

‘Irritating?’

‘Mr Stephen Grant is a man of the cloth,’ Hester said. ‘He is everything that is proper in a gentleman, ma’am—and he is entitled to call himself by one of the lesser family titles, as Grandfather reminded him, but he considers it inappropriate for a man of his calling, and prefers to be just Mr Grant.’

‘Is there any fortune in the family?’

‘Very little. I believe he has a small trust fund set up by his father, before he died, but his grandfather was disowned by the family at one time, and I understand that what money there was may have been lost at the gaming tables. Mr Grant despises gamblers.’

‘He sounds a more sound character than the heir,’ Lady Ireland remarked. ‘What did the duke have to say?’

‘He said Mr Grant was a prig and a fool,’ Hester said, her lips curving into a naughty smile. At that moment she looked younger than her years, and, in the eyes of her fond godmother, very pretty. ‘At that time, he was pleased with the reports of the American heir.’

‘Ah…’ Her godmother nodded. ‘It is a shame that Mr Clinton did not match up to the initial reports, for the family needs some good blood—a man who might have put a stop to the rot. However, you must cut your coat from the cloth you have, Hester. When did you say you were to meet him?’

‘Very shortly,’ Hester told her. ‘Mr Birch is bringing him here this afternoon for tea.’

‘Oh, so we shall see for ourselves what manner of man he is,’ Lady Ireland said. ‘I do hope he at least looks presentable, Hester—but I fear you will have your work cut out before you can present him to society.’

Jared Clinton stared at himself in the elegant wall mirror in the bedchamber of the exclusive hotel. He disliked what he saw, for the coat was ill fitting and not to the standard he was accustomed to wearing. His linen was decent, but it lacked quality and felt uncomfortable. For two pins he would have given up this charade and unpacked the clothes he had, unknown to Mr Birch, brought with him. However, the lawyer’s disapproving manner at their first meeting had angered him sufficiently that he was determined to carry the masquerade through. Besides, he had no intention of shelling out a fortune in order to prop up some crumbling mansion for a family who had once disowned his mother.

Who the hell did these people think they were? He had been given a lecture about what he owed to the duke and to the family name. Apparently, there was some old dragon who was prepared to teach him some manners, which the lawyer had made clear were sadly lacking. He needed to acquire some town bronze before he could be introduced to society as the duke’s heir. Jared had begun this deception as something to amuse himself and his cousin, with no intention of obliging the lawyer by coming over to England. However, his childhood memories of a beautiful English lady, who had sung songs to him and told him about the wonderful house she had grown up in, had somehow come to the fore and made him curious to see his birthright for himself.

‘Surely, you won’t really go over?’ Red had been incredulous. ‘You know it’s only the money they want, don’t you? You might fool some crusty old lawyer for a short while, but you’ll never be able to keep it up—and why should you? There’s nothing for you over there, Jared.’

‘Nothing but the satisfaction of seeing that arrogant devil beg for my help,’ Jared replied, a gleam in his eyes. ‘He disowned my mother because she ran off to marry my father. I think the duke owes me an apology for what he did to her, if nothing more.’

‘You won’t decide to stay there?’ his cousin asked. ‘You have all this here—and we need you. I need you, Jared.’

‘Now that is funny,’ Jared replied, grinning. ‘You need me telling you what to do like a hole in the head. If you had nothing of your own, I would point out the advantages of my selling up here—you could buy the property and increase your own holdings in the business.’

‘Damn it! I don’t want that and you know it,’ Red said, an angry glint in his own eyes now. ‘I have more land and property than I need already. Folk round here have been expecting you to run for Congress—this year senator, in a couple of years who knows. You could be the next president.’

Jared laughed. ‘Not my game, cousin. True, I’ve had a certain amount to say about the way things are run here, but I am content to keep my efforts at a local level. However you—you could go a long way.’

Red shook his head. ‘Well, I suppose if you are determined to go, you must, but take care of yourself. You won’t have me to watch your back over there.’

‘If I feel the need, I’ll write,’ Jared said drily. ‘I don’t expect to stay long. I just want to take a look and see how things lie.’

‘I wouldn’t want to be writing your obituary,’ his cousin said, suddenly serious. ‘You said there was some mystery about the way all your male relatives died over there, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. I asked the lawyer about that, but he wasn’t having any of it—natural causes and a couple of accidents—but I shall keep an open mind on that one.’

‘You do that,’ Red said, ‘and, if you need me, I’ll come.’

‘The cavalry to the rescue?’ Jared chuckled deep in his throat. ‘We had some good times, cousin. Keep an eye on this place for me—and if anything happens to me, you are my executor.’

‘That’s a heck of a consolation!’ Red said. ‘What am I going to do if you don’t come back? I can’t run your empire alone, cousin. Besides, it would interfere with my pleasures.’

The memory made Jared smile. His cousin was also his best friend and he could not help wishing he were here, though he knew it was foolish to feel so apprehensive about the meeting with his mother’s relatives. He had an odd feeling that he was being drawn into something he would regret. Perhaps it would have been better to stay at home and ignore his grandfather’s demands. But he had never been a quitter and he wasn’t about to start now.

Some of the tension had drained out of Jared by the time he went downstairs to the hotel reception area. He was just in time to see the lawyer walk in the door, noticing his quick frown of disapproval. It made Jared smile inwardly. The odd feeling of unease had passed, his natural resilience bouncing back. He was going to enjoy himself this afternoon; he hadn’t met a female he couldn’t charm yet, be she sixteen or ninety-six. He didn’t think this Miss Hester Sheldon would be an exception.

Hester stood up as she heard footsteps in the hall outside her godmother’s salon. She walked over to the window, glancing out at the gardens, which were in full bloom with spring flowers, for some reason unaccountably nervous. She had made light of the whole thing to Lady Ireland, but truthfully she knew it was very important that the heir should be presentable. Unless he could charm himself into the good graces of one of this season’s heiresses, it was likely that the duke would have to begin selling off some of the land—or, worse still, the west wing might have to be closed off and abandoned until the money could be found to restore it. And what her godmother had no idea of was how much she had come to love Shelbourne, even though it could never be hers.

‘Mr Birch and Viscount Sheldon, madam.’

Hester heard the announcement, but did not turn immediately. She did not know why she was so reluctant all of a sudden, but it might have been her fear of disappointment.

‘Well, ain’t this a real pretty place, ma’am,’ a voice with a pronounced southern twang said behind her. ‘I’m right pleased to meet you, Miss Sheldon, though I ain’t rightly sure what I’m supposed to call you, ma’am. Are you a cousin?’

‘I fear you have mistaken me for my goddaughter,’ Lady Ireland said in what sounded like cut-glass accents to Hester’s practised ear. ‘Hester, my dear. I believe this is your cousin.’

Hester turned, a shock running through her as she looked into eyes that were at that particular moment more green than blue, his hair a rich shade of auburn, his skin darker than she would have expected in a man with that colouring. He was tall, broad shouldered with a face that looked lived in, a squared chin and deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He must be in his late thirties, older than she had imagined, though of course his mother was just seventeen when she ran away from her home.

Hester would normally have explained that she was not a true cousin, but for some reason her throat had dried and she had difficulty in speaking at all. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but somehow it wasn’t this man with his air of self-assurance that accorded ill with the clothes he was wearing. He looked good as he was—dressed decently, he would be magnificent, and that was due to his build, because some of the fops who patronised the best tailors in London would never look one-tenth as good as he did at this moment. She cleared her throat, going forward to offer her hand.

‘I am not sure what Mr Birch told you about us, my lord,’ she said. ‘You actually have several titles to choose from should you wish to change yours—but Grandfather thought it might be too daunting if you found yourself being called the Marquis of Shelby, which you could be if you chose, so he has given you the title that was once Papa’s.’

‘If you don’t mind, ma’am, I prefer to be known as Jared Clinton. I’ve never considered myself a member of the English aristocracy.’

‘No, perhaps not,’ Hester said, taking a grip on herself. Her pulses were racing, which was foolish because she was always in complete control of herself when in company. To lose her composure now would be ridiculous. ‘I must welcome you to London, sir. The duke is looking forward to meeting you and presenting you to his friends as the heir. I dare say Mr Birch has told you that an account has been set up for you here in town. You might wish to purchase a few clothes—the kind of thing you would be expected to wear in society. If you should wish for it, I shall be delighted to help you purchase your new wardrobe.’

‘Well, I reckon that’s right nice of you, ma’am,’ Jared said, a glint in his eyes. She was standing in sunlight and he could not see her face clearly, but she was dressed well. He had been prepared to treat gently the elderly lady he imagined had been dragged from her bathchair to rescue him, but what was he supposed to learn from a girl like this? ‘But I wouldn’t want to be a trouble to you, dragging you all over town—unless you can put up with a hillbilly like me? I ain’t never been to London before and I cain’t wait to see the sights. Red is just going to hog my ear when I get back, wanting to know everything I seen in this little old town.’

‘It would be my pleasure to accompany you—at least to those places where a lady is permitted to visit. I am not sure whether we could find someone who would put you up for a decent club, but after Grandfather has seen you, I dare say he will ask one of his friends to do the necessary.’

‘Hog damn, if that ain’t right decent of you, cousin.’

‘One thing,’ Hester said, frowning slightly. ‘That phrase you just used would not be accepted in polite circles. If you wish to be accepted by the best people, it might be as well to moderate your language, if you can.’