The Unknown Heir

‘Really, we must go. I have taken the liberty of making an appointment for you to be fitted. It would be most rude of us to be late.’

‘I don’t think I should go anywhere until you tell me exactly what the old man is expecting of me.’

Hester looked at his stubborn face and sighed inwardly. If she had harboured any doubts that he was truly the heir, they fled. She had seen that look in her stepfather’s eyes, and often in the duke himself.

‘It is Grandfather’s hope that you will marry to advantage. The family needs new money to restore it to its proper place in society.’

‘Damn the old devil!’ Jared’s eyes gleamed with sudden anger. ‘So that is why he summoned me and dragged you into this business! He wants me to marry an heiress.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose that is what he wants—what the family needs,’ Hester said reluctantly. ‘You weren’t brought up here and so you may not understand what your heritage means, but it is respect and family values—’ She stopped as she saw his expression. ‘What? Why are you so angry? It is no more than happens in many families of this kind.’

‘Family values?’ Jared said in an icy tone. ‘Where were they when he cut my mother out of his life? She wrote to him when I was born and afterwards. Her letters were never answered—can you imagine how much that hurt her? Do not preach to me about the family, Miss Sheldon. As far as I am concerned, I have no family—at least none in this country.’

Hester stared at him, her face pale. ‘Then why did you come? Why did you raise our hopes? If you had no intention of helping us restore the family fortunes, why not simply tell Birch that you wished to cut the connection?’

Jared got up. He had been wondering about that himself for the past several minutes. He went over to the window, staring out at the garden, his back rigid with anger as he considered his answer.

‘Curiosity, I suppose. I wondered what kind of a man could cut his daughter out of his life simply because she ran away with the man she loved.’

‘Grandfather loved her,’ Hester said, and there was a little sob in her voice, because she knew how badly the duke would take this disappointment. ‘I suppose his pride wouldn’t let him answer her letters, but I know he still loves her.’

‘Sure of that, are you?’ Jared rounded on her, his eyes dark with anger, his mouth set in a thin line. ‘What makes you such an expert? She certainly didn’t know it, if you do.’

‘Grandfather is proud,’ Hester defended him, her face pale, her eyes carrying an unconscious appeal. ‘Sometimes he says and does things that he doesn’t mean—but that does not make him a bad man. He has always been loving and generous to me…’ A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, trickling down her cheek. She tasted its salt, but she made no attempt to brush it away or the others that silently followed. ‘He is an old man, Mr Clinton. He doesn’t have long to live. Please, I beg you, won’t you at least humour him for a while? No one can force you to marry an heiress, but if you would just let Grandfather believe there is hope…for a while…’

Jared was standing over her now, his eyes blazing. He was furious that she could ask such a thing of him. What right had she or any of them to ask anything of him? She had none and he was determined to punish her, to punish them all for what they had done to his mother. Hardly knowing what he did, not thinking at all, he reached out, gripping her by her arms, gazing down at her. He pulled her to her feet. Looking into her eyes, he felt something stir inside him, and, without understanding why, he lowered his head, his mouth touching hers.

He hadn’t meant to kiss her, had not realised how it would feel when he did, the fire that shot through him so unexpected that he reacted instinctively. His mouth possessed hers thoroughly, his tongue seeking access, forcing her to open to him by sheer willpower, slipping inside to explore her sweetness. She tasted like honey and wine, intoxicating. He felt his control slipping. He was inflamed by the taste and scent of her, the way her pliant body seemed to melt against him. She might have rejected him had she chosen, pushed him away, but she didn’t, allowing the kiss to go on for as long as he chose, looking at him in a dazed manner as he finally drew away from her. Her eyes were wide, hazy with passion and startled, as though she had never been kissed—but of course she must have been.

‘I should not have done that,’ he said as sanity returned. ‘I was angry, but my mother’s unhappiness was not of your making.’

Hester touched a finger to her lips. She had made no protest while he kissed her and she made none now. ‘I am very sorry that your mother was unhappy, Mr Clinton. I think Grandfather loved her better than any other of his children, and I know that Papa often spoke of her. I am sure that he did not know her letters had been rejected.’

‘As I said, it wasn’t your fault—but I cannot forget what she suffered.’

‘Was she not happy with her husband and you?’

‘Oh, she was happy most of the time,’ Jared said. ‘She loved Pa and he loved her—but thinking of the past made her cry.’

‘That does not mean she was unhappy,’ Hester said. ‘I cry sometimes when I think of people I love. Especially John. He was my brother and he died in a riding accident when he was sixteen.’ Her eyes darkened with emotion. ‘He was such a good rider. I have never understood how it happened.’

‘You think it might not have been an accident?’ Jared asked, his gaze narrowing as he saw the indecision in her face. ‘You have your suspicions, I think?’

‘Yes…though I have no idea who would want to kill John,’ Hester admitted. ‘He wasn’t even the heir then. Papa was still alive.’

‘I have been told that the Sheldon family is cursed,’ Jared said. ‘I think that is nonsense, don’t you?’

‘Yes…but John believed it,’ Hester said and frowned. ‘He told me the story once. It is very tragic and perhaps there was a curse laid on us many years ago, but I do not believe that it killed them all.’

‘You mean your uncles and cousins? You aren’t sure they died of natural causes either, are you?’

‘I don’t know…’ Hester looked up at him. ‘Who would want them dead?’

‘Someone who could not inherit until they were?’

‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes widened. ‘But you…no, I do not believe it.’

‘But you cannot help wondering, can you?’ Jared said, a glint in his eyes. ‘Has it crossed your mind that I might have had them killed so that I could inherit?’

Hester stared at him, because something of the kind had been in her thoughts, but he was so angry…so proud. Her instinct told her that she ought to trust him; it would be unfair to suspect him of anything so evil.

‘I do not know what to think,’ she said. ‘So many deaths…No! I cannot believe you capable of that, sir. I do know that you have tried to deceive us into thinking you something you are not…that awful accent…’ She gave a choke of laughter. ‘Did you really imagine it would work, Mr Clinton?’

Jared stared at her in stony silence for a moment and then he grinned. ‘Well, damn my eyes if the little girl ain’t rumbled me.’

‘I do not think there is much I can teach you in the way of manners, for your mother will have done that when you were a boy,’ Hester said. ‘But I might be of use to you in other ways—we do have some odd customs here, you know. If you were prepared to give Grandfather a little of your time, I would be pleased to help in any way I could. And there are other things. I could teach you to dance, perhaps?’

‘Maybe,’ Jared said, smothering a desire to laugh. ‘I dare say there are things I need to know about the family.’

‘Anything you wish to know, of course.’

‘Well, you could start by telling me who visited this house last evening.’

‘Last evening?’ Hester frowned. ‘We were out for the evening, but someone did leave his calling card. His name is Mr Stephen Grant—he is a distant relation. Grandfather’s great-nephew I suppose, once removed.’

‘What exactly does that mean?’

‘The duke had a half-brother—the son of his father’s second wife, and Mr Grant is that half-brother’s grandson.’

‘I’m not sure how things work over here,’ Jared said. ‘As things stand, I am the duke’s heir, right—but what happens if I die?’

‘Well, I suppose Mr Grant would inherit everything. He is Grandfather’s only other male relative.’ Hester looked at the way his mouth had thinned. ‘May I ask why?’

‘You may ask, but for the moment I shall not answer,’ Jared said. ‘I’m not sure about anything.’ His brow furrowed. ‘When are we going down to the duke’s estate?’

‘As soon as you have your clothes,’ Hester said. ‘If you wish, of course?’

‘As it happens, I don’t think I have much choice,’ Jared replied, all trace of the twang gone. His expression was serious, his eyes a deep blue-green. ‘I have something to do here, Miss Sheldon. I am not sure where it will take me, and I am not sure of my motives for doing it—but for the moment I am happy to go along with things as you had planned.’

‘You mean you will humour Grandfather for a while?’

‘You could put it that way.’

Hester nodded. ‘In that case, we could go and buy you a new hat—unless you do not think it necessary? And you will need clothes for the ball…dancing shoes, perhaps?’

‘I am perfectly happy to buy a new hat in your company,’ Jared said offering her his arm. ‘I shall make my own arrangements about paying for it—but I expect you to keep that part of it to yourself.’

‘All I ask is that you give us a chance to welcome you to your family, sir.’