The Unknown Heir

‘And then what?’ Hester asked. ‘Mama was an heiress, but Papa gambled all her money away as well as his own. She has only the settlement her father insisted on when she married him and that is scarcely enough to clothe us both decently. But, as you say, a rich marriage is the only solution. Grandfather is determined on a ball to introduce him into society.’

‘Not yet, Miss Sheldon,’ her lawyer begged with a little shudder. ‘If he were seen in good society as he is…all chance of his finding an heiress would be gone.’

‘Is he really so awful?’ Hester said, wrinkling her brow. ‘I was not born when my aunt ran away with her American gambler, but I have heard that she was an intelligent, beautiful lady.’ How could her son be the ignorant, coarse man the lawyer had described? Surely there was some mystery here? ‘I think I should see him before Grandfather does, Mr Birch. I shall come back to London with you and stay with my godmother. Perhaps I can at least make him look presentable before he comes here.’

‘I think that is a good idea,’ Mr Birch said. ‘I was hesitant to suggest it—but since you have done so, I can only applaud your devotion to duty.’

‘Duty?’ Hester shook her head. ‘In truth, I care little for what becomes of the heir, sir. I wish only to make Grandfather’s last few months as easy as possible. I know he blames himself for what has happened to the family, and I would find a way of giving him peace of mind if it is possible.’

‘Your generosity of spirit is everything that one could wish for in a daughter,’ the lawyer said. ‘Your mother and grandfather must rely on you for so much, Miss Sheldon. It is a little unfair on you that they entertain so little these days.’

‘I have been given so much love,’ Hester replied with a serene smile. ‘I did have my Season before Papa died, you know. I did not take and I fear it is too late to think of marriage now. I am content with my life as it is, sir.’

Mr Birch sighed inwardly, for he knew that an intelligent woman such as Miss Sheldon undoubtedly must be wasted in that mausoleum of a house. However, he knew her too well to imagine she would ever think of disobliging her mother or the duke, and was therefore doomed to remain a spinster.

‘So, the prodigal son is not everything you had hoped,’ Lady Sarah Ireland said, casting a critical eye over her goddaughter. She thought it a great pity that Hester had not married when she was younger, because she was a charming, sensible girl and deserved a home of her own. She was at the beck and call of the duke, who had grown selfish in his old age, Lady Ireland believed. In truth, she had never liked Shelbourne, but she did like Hester, who was related to her through Hester’s real father, and she had tried to persuade Hester to come and live with her in London more than once. ‘Well, I dare say you can teach him some society manners, Hester, but it is a pity about the money. It would hardly have mattered how he speaks if he still had a fortune.’

Hester shook her head at the elderly lady, of whom she was very fond. ‘That remark was a little cynical, dearest Godmother, but I know you meant it well. In society, most things are forgiven one if there is a large enough fortune.’ She sighed and glanced at herself in the great oval mirror that hung on the wall of Lady Ireland’s elegant salon. ‘As you are aware, Grandfather still has the house and the land, possibly because his sons died before they could force him to sell, but there is very little money. Had the heir not gambled his money away, he might have helped restore the house. The west wing needs a large amount of money spent on it if it is to be restored to its former glory.’

‘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.’

‘What phrase would that be, Miss Sheldon?’ Jared asked, his eyes wide and innocent.

‘I imagine she meant hog damn,’ Lady Ireland intercepted. ‘Please come and sit down, sir. I have rung for tea.’

‘That’s the milky stuff they keep sending me at the hotel,’ Jared said. ‘If you don’t mind, ma’am, I would rather not. Coffee, if you please, or something stronger.’

‘Madeira, then,’ Lady Ireland replied promptly. ‘You may not know the wine, sir, but I assure you it is much drunk by gentlemen of taste.’

Jared thought of his well-stocked wine cellar at home, which held some of the finest wines from France and other countries, but held the biting retort back, knowing that he had invited this kind of thing by pretending to be something he was not.

‘You are too kind, ma’am. I was thinking maybe I’d try some of your cute English ale, but this…what did you call it—Madeira?—that will do just fine.’

He became aware that his cousin was staring at him. She had walked out of the sunshine now and he was able to see her face properly for the first time. He realised that she was not quite as young as he had thought her—perhaps twenty-four or-five, but as yet unmarried, for her finger was ringless. He wondered why, because she was not unattractive. Not pretty, but pleasant to look at, he thought, her hair a soft brown and her eyes what some people called hazel.

‘Will you not sit down, sir?’ Lady Ireland inquired as Hester took a seat on the small sofa. ‘How do you like what you’ve seen of England so far?’

‘It rains a lot,’ Jared answered, deliberately obtuse. ‘I cain’t say as I’ve been far as yet, ma’am, but what I’ve seen is kind of cute.’ He winced at his own drawl and wondered what his mother would say if she could hear him. He sounded like one of the uneducated young men who came to his cousin’s estate looking for work from time to time.

‘Cute? I dare say that is meant to be a compliment,’ Lady Ireland said, looking down her long nose at him. ‘I think what you meant to say is that you haven’t had time to see a great deal, but you like what you have seen so far.’

‘Yes, ma’am, you could say that,’ Jared replied. He got to his feet instantly as a young maid came in carrying a heavy tray. ‘May I help you with that, miss?’

‘Oh, sir, my lord…’ The girl looked flustered as she set the tray on the stand beside her mistress. ‘So kind…’ She met his gaze and blushed, a little smile on her lips as she hurried from the room, clearly embarrassed by his attentions.

‘You do not need to stand up for a servant,’ Lady Ireland told him. ‘And you do not offer to help her with her work. I dare say you are not aware of it, Lord Sheldon, but it isn’t done in polite society.’

‘Where I come from, a gentleman always stands for a lady,’ Jared replied without thinking. ‘And that tray looked heavy. At home my father would have expected his son to help if the tray was too heavy for a servant. He believed in equality for all.’

‘You are in England now…’

‘I don’t think it matters,’ Hester said, because she had seen the flash of anger in the heir’s eyes. She was rather pleased that he had shown himself to have good manners, even if his politeness was misplaced. ‘Mr Clinton erred on the right side, Godmother.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose he did,’ Lady Ireland agreed, looking at her in surprise. ‘I was merely trying to help. I should not like you to suffer a severe set-down, sir. You will find that many society hostesses would give you the cut direct if you used some of the words you have here today—and they will snigger behind their fans if you jump to your feet every time a maid brings in a tray.’

‘They may do as they please, ma’am,’ Jared replied, a note of steel in his voice. ‘A lady is a lady where I come from—and that little girl was struggling with that tray.’

‘As it happens, I agree with you. She should never have attempted it. I shall have a word with my butler. He ought to have come himself or sent two maids. Madeira, sir? I believe you will find it agreeable. Please help yourself from the decanter. Mr Birch, will you have tea or join his lordship in a glass of Madeira?’

‘If I may, I should enjoy a glass of wine,’ the lawyer said. He had been standing silently, watching the American heir with a puzzled frown. He had noticed it once or twice before—that unpleasant twang disappeared when the viscount was roused to anger or passion. Could it possibly be assumed? But why would he do that? Surely he would wish to make a good impression on his English relatives? Unless…Mr Birch decided that the viscount would bear further investigation. It might just be that the American had been having a joke at his expense. Oh, dear, how very embarrassing that would be: the duke did not suffer fools gladly!

‘Yes, of course,’ Lady Ireland said, smiling at him. ‘Do please sit down, sir. I had forgotten you for a moment, but you are welcome to join us. Hester, my dear, you would like tea, of course?’

‘Yes, Godmother,’ Hester replied, a slight smile on her lips. The heir had spirit, she thought with satisfaction. He might wear dreadful clothes and come out with some very strange phrases, but all in all, he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the lawyer had painted him. ‘I shall join you in a cup of tea.’ She refrained from saying that she often shared a glass of Madeira with her grandfather when they were alone.

She was about to get up to receive her cup from her godmother, but Mr Clinton anticipated her. He was already on his feet, pouring the wine for Mr Birch and himself, but he left his own glass standing to pass her the tea. She noticed that he lifted his coat tails when he sat down, and the way he held his glass—and she noticed that his nails were short and very clean.

Something wasn’t quite right here, Hester thought. Mr Birch had spoken of the heir as being ill mannered, badly educated and uncouth—but that did not describe the man now sitting on her godmother’s chair. He had chosen a substantial, square-seated, Chippendale elbow chair, which was one of the few up to his weight, and he looked very much at home. She had also noticed that his accent was missing when he asked the maid if he might help her. Why?

Why would he possibly be pretending to be something he wasn’t? Hester’s curiosity was aroused. If he had been an ill-educated man pretending to be a gentleman, she would have assumed it was because he wanted to impress his relatives and make sure of his inheritance when the duke died—but why pretend to be an ignorant oaf when he was, in fact, a gentleman?

Hester had no idea, but the slip had made her suspicious. If he were honest, he would not have tried to deceive them, therefore he must be up to something. She decided not to demand the truth at once. She would go along with his masquerade for the moment and see where it led them.

‘You must call for me in the morning, sir,’ she said, giving him a smile that was as innocent as it was false. ‘We must begin to collect your wardrobe and I am sure we shall be pleased to show you something of the city—shall we not, Godmother?’