The Unknown Heir: Book Nine in the Regency Romps Series

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  "I had not thought of it that way," she admitted. "I thought fortune would be enough."

  Her father gave a crack of scornful laughter. "It's a start, but you only have to look at Sir John Lade to see how fast a man without maturity can burn through a fortune! His affability may keep doors open for the Lades, but his foolishness has slammed a great deal in his face, too."

  "I suppose maturity and reliability should be on my list then," she said, but try as she might, they were not descriptors she could comfortably apply to Christopher Douglas. Perhaps in five years he would have grown into them, but then perhaps he would prove to be like Sir John Lade; affable, charming, and utterly lacking in financial acumen.

  Was it a risk she could take?

  Was it one she even wanted to take?

  "Cordelia," said her mother softly. "If you are not angry with us for suggesting that Mr Douglas is not the right man for you, then perhaps you should consider forgiving your foreign nobody for doing the same."

  She did not even bother to ask how they knew she'd fought with Jacques. They had always had an uncanny habit of knowing everything.

  "One would almost think you were proposing a match between us," she said lightly, pretending that she was making a great joke. "Are you so keen to see me leave for another country?"

  "I'd never countenance any match that saw you taken so far away from us, my dear girl," replied her father with his usual solemnity. "Not unless you were deeply in love with the fellow. If I have my way,the man you marry will be the heir to a considerable title, estate and fortune right here on English soil."

  She laughed, but it sounded like a sob. "You need to discuss this with Mother, for she knows as well as I do that no such man exists - not if you want someone mature and reliable as well!"

  Her father picked his paper back up, an odd smile playing on his lips. "My sights may be set high for you, dear girl, but it is no less than you deserve. Besides, these things have a way of working themselves out."

  It occurred to Cordelia much later that Lord Delby had never once in his life left something to the whims of fate, but at the breakfast table she was far too caught up in her own thoughts to consider his odd words, or to interpret the meaningful look that her mother cast at her husband.

  "Do you plan to make peace with Monsieur Jacques?" asked Lady Delby.

  Cordy hesitated. "I... I am afraid I was rather foolish yesterday, and demanded that we cancel all our engagements, no matter how inconvenient that would prove to him."

  "Thoughtless of you," agreed her mother, but offered no suggestions.

  "Perhaps I should go and apologise during a morning call to Henrietta," she mused. "It will be awkward with Mr Douglas there too, but I think it will be easier to do this sooner, don't you think?"

  "An excellent idea," agreed her mother.

  "And... and I think I will wear my walking dress au militaire," she said as she got to her feet. "He complemented it, when we met in Hyde Park that first time."

  "Perfect, and you have plenty of time to style your hair to perfection as well," said Lady Delby. "If one must apologise, then one should do it looking as stylish and beautiful as possible."

  "Especially when one is trying to impress a foreign nobody," her father murmured into the paper.

  Cordelia chose to ignore him as she exited the room, her head held high.

  Chapter Nine

  The Marquis of Shropshire stared at the room full of people assembled before him, doing his best not to let his mouth fall open at the non-stop hubbub that seemed to accompany his granddaughter's guests.

  The children, or at least those under the age of fifteen, had been dismissed to the back of the room to play at a number of games, where they noisily demanded that everyone turn to admire them every time they won, or lost, or just found something amusing. Poor Cottingham, whose eyes indicated he'd been rather worse for wear the night before, had tried to suggest that the children would enjoy a nice stroll about Green Park with Hart's Nurse to supervise them, only for the older members of the Gautereau family to begin regaling them with some of the frankly terrifying exploits that the younger ones had orchestrated while still in Montreal. The pride in their recitals was impossible to miss, but it was painfully evident to their London hosts that their fair city was not prepared for a gaggle of such adventurous brats without the firm supervision of their elders, and so it was hoped that jackstraws and playing cards would be enough to keep them entertained while the adults talked.

  Shropshire rather longed to get down on his knees and play with the children, but considered it to be unseemly to do so in front of so many new acquaintance.

  At least, not until after he'd got the whole business of Jacques' inheritance out of the way. After that, he had every intention of playing with the little ones, and teaching them the tricks of bilbocatch.

  "Monsieur le Marquis, I understand that you have questions about my first marriage," said Madam Cartwright-Gautereau, her chin raised and her eyes sparkling as she sought to get right to the heart of the matter as soon as the children were settled. "I can assure you, as can my parents, that everything was above board and legal."

  "Maman, it is not Shropshire who is questioning things," said Jacques, looking embarrassed by the combative air of his mother. "I explained to you over breakfast that it is to do with politics."

  "Do not interrupt me, Jonathan," replied Madam Cartwright-Gautereau, and much to Shropshire's amusement, the poor boy fell silent immediately. "I have brought letters, Monsieur le Marquis, from the church where I was married and the man who performed the service. I also have letters from some of the highest ranking people in the North West Company confirming my marriage, and a copy of John's will, specifically naming me as his wife and my son as his legal, legitimate heir. You will forgive the haste with which they were written, I trust, for we left for England the day after I received Madam du Cottingham's letter."

  "I think I like you very much, Madam Cartwright-Gautereau," said the Marchioness, remembering to address Jacques mother with both her married names, as Henrietta had hastily informed them."A lioness for your children, I have no doubt."

  Her husband gave a chuckle that sounded like a rumble of low thunder. "Amelie is a lioness no matter the context, Madam le Marchioness. When she growls, the whole of Montreal trembles."

  "Don't be so foolish, Henri," she snipped at him, despite being dwarfed by both her husband and the adult members of their offspring. She remained oblivious to the fact that her two oldest daughters and her next son after Jacques were silently nodding their agreement.

  Shropshire took the stack of proffered papers, delighted with the challenged in the lady's eyes. This woman, he was certain, would march right up to the Regent himself and demand that he acknowledge her son's rightful place among the Peerage without hesitation if it was deemed necessary, and her sheer force of will would likely carry them to victory even without all the records at hand. He looked through the letters, their seals and their signatures, and quickly determined that, even without the notes from Sherbrooke and Delby there was enough here to convince even the most committed skeptic that Jacques was indeed his legitimate heir.

  "It seems you have thought of everything, Madam. Has it been explained to you why these are so important?"

  She gave a small snort of contempt, and it was difficult not to picture her as a pretty little dragon surrounded by giants that had sworn to protect her.

  "Yes, and it is all foolishness in my opinion! If John's father had not been such a despicable man, none of this would matter in the least!"

  "Amelie," said her own mother sharply, and Shropshire was amused to see that even the redoubtable Madam Gautereau bowed to the will of another. Madame Roy, dressed in a fine white silk and pearl jewelry better suited to a visit with Royalty, smiled at him warmly.

  "You must forgive my daughter, Monsieur le Marquis, but her fire is what kept her going after your darling nephew's death. It is only her excess of affection for our dear grand
son that leads her to speak out of turn in such a way."

  Amelie Gautereau rolled her eyes, while both Jacques and his stepfather struggled to smother their laughter.

  "Naturally, we were all upset to learn that there were questions over her marriage to John Cartwright," added Amelie's father Monsieur Roy, a red-faced gentleman whose uncomfortable posture suggested he was not used to the stays beneath his waistcoat. "Whatever his father's reason for disowning the family, no matter how incomprehensible to us, it must have been a good one."

  Amelie started to respond to this in a heavily accented, rapid French that even Shropshire could not follow, but at the same moment her son placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, and her husband, glaring at his in-laws, stated his own opinion of this observation in no uncertain terms.

  "That is utter nonsense, Francois, and well you know it."

  Before a family argument could take over, the Marquis raised his hand to draw all eyes towards him.

  He was secretly impressed to discover that the gesture worked as well on these guests from Lower Canada as it did on his own family.

  "Allow me to speak for my family, if you please," he said firmly. When he was confident that they were all silent, even the children in the far corner of the room, he maintained his pause for just one moment longer.

  "My brother Marcus," he said slowly, "was an insufferable ass."

  The stunned awe inspired by his words lasted only a moment before a cacophony of laughter and protestations filled the room.

  "I'm afraid that I must concur with my husband," declared the Marchioness loudly, bringing the moment of chaos firmly back under her control. "Marcus had no right to conceal John's marriage and child from us, for even though our own sons were still alive at the time, they were still in line for the title, and deserved to know about it. More importantly, his decision cost us the opportunity to know your remarkable family over the years, and for that, we can never forgive him."

  "But we are not all your family, Madam Le Marchioness, however much we might wish to be," said the dark-haired goddess of a girl sat to the left of Madame Cartwright-Gautereau. "Jacques is our brother, but our father is Henri, not John."

  "Mademoiselle Marie-Thérèse, I presume?" asked the Marquis kindly, and was rewarded with a surprised nod by the beautiful young woman.

  She is going to take the Ton by storm, he thought to himself, and along with that sister of hers, I don't think any of our girls will have a hope of being considered a diamond.

  "Yes, I am the next oldest, after Jacques," she confirmed, "but how do you know my name?"

  "Your brother has talked about you a great deal, as well as your next sister here, Marie-Helene. He has talked about all of you, so let me see if I can get you all correct, yes, including you little ones!"

  This last comment was aimed at the curious faces that had abandoned their game of jackstraws to come and peer curiously at the strange old Marquis who they'd been told was important to their brother.

  "You really told your English family all about us?" asked Amelie, glancing at her son with curiosity.

  It was Henrietta that answered, her tinkling laugh full of sisterly affection. "Madam, he has talked of almost nothing else! He has often had us laughing at the antics of your spirited children, and I have felt most jealous of him, growing up with so many brothers and sisters to play and fight with over the years. I feel like I know and love all of you already, and it is so strange to remember that we have never before met."

  "I had no notion you would miss us so much," said Amelie, reaching out to take Jacques's hand tightly into her own. Shropshire noted that Henri Gautereau also reached out to pat his stepson affectionately on the shoulder.

  The Marquis, much like his granddaughter, found himself already loving this loud, rambunctious family. Even the worried-looking Roys, who only wanted to make a good impression to secure a future for their grandson.

  "Do you really know all of us by name?" asked one of the Gautereau siblings.

  "Indeed I do, Marie-Helene, for you are next oldest after your sister. This strapping young man can be no other than Augustin Henri, which would make you, my young man, Claud Francois, and you little brother here Pierre Antoine." He reached out to flick the nose of the small boy who had ventured closest to him, and was rewarded by a delighted giggle.

  "Monsieur Le Marquis knows who I am, Jacques!" declared the small Pierre with considerable pride. "Perhaps he will give me a title, like you!"

  Jacques grinned affectionately at the boy. "It does not quite work that way, little one, but I'm sure he will happily address you as the Chevalier of Mischief!"

  "What about us?" demanded the smallest girl, her skirts still up at her knees and her hair in loose waves about her shoulders. "Did Jacques tell you about us?"

  "Marie-Geneviève ," he declared, remembering the description of the youngest girl as stubborn and clever beyond her years. "Which of course means that this quiet young lady must by Marie-Rosalie. Well, do I have it all correct?"

  The children stared at him in open-mouthed appreciation while their father's booming laugh filled the room once again.

  "Monsieur le Marquis, you know my children's names better than I do, or half of Montreal for that matter, for they are all referred to as 'Le Petit Gautereau' no matter who is addressing them," said Henri with unmistakable pride.

  "Because if there is mischief afoot, one of them is bound to be involved," said his mother, pretending to glare at her grandchildren who just grinned at her in response.

  It was apparent that the older Madam Gautereau was the grand-dame of the family, for even the fiery Amelie seemed to defer to the older woman, while her parents seemed to regard her with a mixture of awe and discomfort. Her long hair, jet black and poker straight like that of her descendants, was in stark contrast to the grey, styled curls of Madame Roy, but while Amelie's mother had chosen to wear a dress better suited to an evening with the highest sticklers of the Ton, Henri's mother had a truly exquisite day dress of blue muslin trimmed with a red band at the hem, while her fawn-coloured Spencer was embellished at the collar with finely worked embroidery that he expected would be the rage within a fortnight. The Marquis could almost hear the longing of his wife and granddaughter to ask how Madam Gautereau kept her hair so rich, or to tell them about the intricately beaded wrap that held her braid neatly at the back of her neck, but good manners was keeping their curiosity in check.

  For now.

  "You already have wonderful grandparents, as does your brother Jacques," said the Marquis, addressing Marie-Thérèse but speaking to all of the guests in Henrietta's parlour, "but my wife and I would very much like it, mademoiselle, if you would consider adding us to your large family. We could be your English aunt and uncle, or even your great-grandparents if it pleases you. It would be an honour to introduce you to the Ton, and launch all of you into London Society."

  "How wonderful!" breathed the Marchioness, casting her critical eye over the two eldest Gautereau girls. "The Beau Monde will fall to their knees!"

  "A ball," declared Henrietta. "Cottingham, we simply must have a ball for the girls, and tell Emma and George that they must do the same!"

  "After ours," said the Marchioness firmly, and Henrietta was only slightly deflated by this insistence, but she capitulated without complaint.

  "You must not put yourself to any trouble," said Madame Cartwright-Gautereau, although her eyes shone at the idea of her daughters being launched into the Ton. 'However, we would be grateful for your help in identifying a house we could rent for the rest of the year, and perhaps beyond."

  "A year and beyond?" exclaimed Jacques before anyone else could speak.

  His mother turned to look up at him, her expression placid. "Naturally, my dear boy. If you are to be the Marquis, you will have many responsibilities to learn, and many people to meet. You cannot do that from Montreal."

  "I know, maman, but you cannot uproot everyone just for me! You have lives and business interest
s to maintain."

  It was Henri who answered this time, his words preceded with a deep chuckle. "Do you think, Jacques, that we would worry about such trifles? I've not worked directly in the trade since you were small, and with the merger looking inevitable there is no need for us to remain in Lower Canada. Besides, your sisters are desperate for the opportunity to experience life in Europe, so how could you deny them such an opportunity to spend a fortune on clothes and fripperies?"

  "The winters are not so cold, I hear," said Madame Roy before her grandson could appeal to her. "My bones could do with that respite."

  "Mémère?" said Jaques, addressing Madam Gautereau.

  "I always liked an adventure," she replied, which seemed to settle the matter.

  "There is a small problem that must be addressed, however," ventured Henrietta after a whispered conversation with her husband. "At this point in the Season it is unlikely, if not impossible, that you will find adequate accommodation for your needs in a suitable part of town. I know it is a little cramped for all of us in our home, but we must insist that you remain living with us for as long as you are in London."

  "Nonsense," said the Marchioness before any of Jacques' family could answer. "There is more than enough space for the Gautereaus and the Roys to stay with us at Shropshire House."

  "With room to spare," added the Marquis with a chuckle. "We've an entire wing that's not seen use since your father was still in leading strings, Henrietta, and I rather long to discover what the house is like when it's full of laughter. It's been too long."

  "We could not expect that from you," said Madam Cartwright-Gautereau, her eyes wide with surprise at the offer. "We do not require the best of locations to stay in, so I am sure we will find somewhere."