His Unexpected Heiress (Entangled Inheritance Book 2)

by Sally Britton

  William ran forward, basket still in hand, and Tabby jerked in mid-air causing the boy to stumble into the butler. Elaine ran after the cat, too.

  “The door,” Nancy yelled, hurrying that way as well. “If he runs out, we might never catch him again.”

  Elaine took her eye off the cat to see the footman had not barred the way, though he stood in front of it as if to keep Tabby from escape.

  Tabby apparently looked at the same moment and saw his chance at freedom. He raced for the sunlight, outpacing Nancy, and darted through the legs of the footman. Nancy lunged to catch him, but her shoulder caught the young man’s leg and he tripped forward over her.

  Elaine did not stop but pounced over the heap of child and liveried servant, likely flashing more ankle than a true gentlewoman ever would. She stumbled upon her landing but kept her forward momentum.

  A man stood in the empty drive, the cat running directly toward the stranger.

  “Catch that cat,” Elaine shouted, raising her hand to point at the animal, as if it were necessary to specify which creature was running directly toward him.

  The man, tall and fair-haired, took two long strides forward and swooped down upon the animal rather as efficiently as a bird of prey, easily gathering the confused Tabby into his chest. The cat scrabbled at the man’s chest, but he took Tabby by the scruff of his neck and held him out at arms’ length.

  Elaine’s steps slowed, and William ran by her with his basket, the top held open.

  “Put him in here, sir.” The boy thrust the basket out.

  The gentleman, for that must certainly be what he was given his fine clothing, carefully lowered the snarling cat into its hamper. William snapped the basket closed and hugged it tight to his chest. He turned around, his brown eyes wide and worried. “I’m sorry, Elaine. I didn’t mean for him to get out.”

  “We must be careful to let Tabby know this is our new home before we allow him to roam free,” Elaine reminded him. “Perhaps you better take him to the stables and see if anyone there knows how to go about it.”

  “Ask for Blythe,” a deep voice said from behind William. The gentleman, adjusting his coat, had spoken almost absently. “I know of no one better with animals, of all the four-legged varieties.”

  Elaine hesitated a moment. “Thank you, sir. William, go find Mr. Blythe at the stables.”

  William nodded and took off the way the carriage had gone. Elaine watched as Nancy ran from her place at the front door to follow him, lifting her skirts in a manner that suggested she cared more for the cat than propriety. That was to be expected in a six-year-old, Elaine supposed.

  The crunch of gravel behind her, and a sudden awareness, alerted her that the gentleman had come much closer. She glanced over, and up, into his blue eyes. Elaine’s lips parted as she took in a quick breath. This man, whoever he was, bore the same eyes as Peter Gillensford. Even without seeing the painting moments ago, she would have recognized the vivid shade of blue at once. A pair of blond eyebrows arched at her stare, bringing her back to her senses.

  “Thank you once more, sir, for assisting us. Those children dote upon that cat, and they have had so many changes in the last few days that Tabby’s loss would likely undo them.” She closed her mouth over her babbling explanation and bit the insides of her cheeks.

  A seamstress could speak to who she liked without much consequence, but a gentlewoman should not address a man unless they had been properly introduced.

  “I am pleased I arrived in time to help,” he said, tone less formal than she expected. “You must be Miss Chapple. I apologize that I was not here to meet your carriage, but I was delayed.” He gave her a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “I am Mr. Adam Gillensford. Mr. Tuttle-Kirk must have told you about me.”

  A Gillensford? He had to be a relation to the man who had left her the house. But if the late Mr. Gillensford had family, why had he made her his heir? She wished again that the solicitor, kind as he was, had shared more details with her. He had appeared with paperwork putting the estate in her name but had somehow forgotten her copy of the will.

  Mr. Tuttle-Kirk had not mentioned that someone appearing rather like the god Apollo would be greeting her. However, he had made reference to a gentleman who was supposed to assist her in learning how to run the estate.

  Did Mr. Tuttle-Kirk’s mention of this gentleman qualify as an introduction?

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gillensford.” Remaining mute would only make her appear more ridiculous than she already had. “I am sorry, but I did not know that Mr. Peter Gillensford had family here.”

  “He was my great-uncle,” the young Mr. Gillensford said. Elaine mentally stumbled over the name and she hastily substituted the man’s Christian name, just to keep matters straight in her mind. “My family’s property adjoins his on the south-west. The Earl of Montecliff is my brother.”

  “Oh, I see. I have not met him yet.” What a benign thing to say. Elaine felt heat in her cheeks, despite her travelling bonnet. Why did she have to blush at the slightest provocation? Really, she was far too old for such a reaction.

  Adam Gillensford smiled at her, then held his hand out to gesture to the house. He stopped, however, when he glimpsed his glove. Elaine stared, mortified, to see dozens of black and gray hairs all over his dark blue glove.

  “Shall we go inside?” She did not wait for his answer but started back to the doorway with hurried steps. What an impression they had made! The staff, poor Mrs. Mayworth especially, must be horrified by the complete lack of decorum she and the children showed. Adam Gillensford was likely confused by their awkward first meeting. He had to think her a complete simpleton.

  Could anything else possibly go wrong?

  Chapter 4

  Dusting off his hands as best he could, Adam followed behind the distressed woman. He could not help but admire her form, even if it was encased in a dull brown traveling gown. Miss Chapple looked more like a governess than an heiress. Nothing about the sensible cut of her clothing suggested she had been a particularly talented or fashion-conscience seamstress. What station in life had she risen from? Creating work dresses for maids?

  Her large gray eyes were quite stunning, of course. Gray was not a color one saw very often, but beneath her wide bonnet and auburn curls, the shade was quite charming.

  He tried to fix upon her age with limited success. Where he had expected an older woman, perhaps his mother’s age at the youngest, he instead found someone much nearer his own.

  Stepping into the familiar foyer of his great-uncle’s home, Adam removed his hat and handed it to Graham.

  “It is good to see you, Mr. Gillensford,” Graham said with true relief in his tone. He took Adam’s gloves, too, wincing at the cat hair still upon them. “Shall I see to your gloves while you visit with the mistress?”

  “Yes, that would be helpful.” Adam turned to find the so-called mistress of the estate and spotted her in a whispered conversation with Mrs. Mayworth. The housekeeper saw him watching and smiled in her usual welcoming manner.

  “Mr. Gillensford, how good of you to come. I was about to give Miss Chapple a tour of the home.”

  A glance at Miss Chapple’s blush, and noting the way her shoulders drooped, gave Adam a fairly good understanding of how she felt about that prospect. The woman still wore her bonnet. Had she even been permitted a moment’s rest since her arrival?

  The time to begin his part in Miss Chapple’s life had arrived sooner than he anticipated, before he had decided his intentions toward her. The two paths before him were obvious. Immediately set her in a bad position with the staff or earn her trust and gratitude.

  “While that is a splendid idea, Mrs. Mayworth, I must say that touring a house as large and grand as this one would not be the first of my wishes after a long day of travel.” Though he continued speaking to the housekeeper, Adam turned his attention pointedly to the blushing woman at his side. “Perhaps it would be best to save the tour for tomorrow, when Miss
Chapple has had time to rest and settle her charges in the nursery.”

  Her shoulders sagged further, and her lips raised in the slightest of smiles. “That does sound like a wise course.” She looked to Mrs. Mayworth and added in haste, “I will be able to appreciate Tertium Park and its history so much better tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Mayworth looked between them and clasped her hands in front of her skirts. “Yes, that may be for the best. Might I ask where the children have gone?”

  “To the stables,” Adam and Miss Chapple said together. Miss Chapple offered him an amused smile. Good, she already saw him as an ally if she thought they might share in the humor of that moment.

  “They are taking the cat to Blythe,” Adam supplied. “Perhaps you ought to send their nursery maid to escort them back in when they are finished there.” He again looked to Miss Chapple, giving her the ability to approve his suggestion with a firm nod. “If you will permit me, Mrs. Mayworth, I will show Miss Chapple to the Blue Parlor to await tea.”

  “Of course, sir.” Mrs. Mayworth curtsied to them both and then hurried away, hands still folded primly before her.

  Miss Chapple released a shaky laugh. “Thank you, Mr. Gillensford. You have managed the whole situation beautifully.”

  Adam gave her a shallow bow. “It is an honor to be of assistance. It is obvious that the housekeeper’s excitement over a new mistress has somewhat clouded her usual good judgment. She may not realize how much of an adjustment this is for you.” Offering his arm to her might be too familiar. Instead, Adam gestured to the wide, grand staircase. “May I see you to the parlor, Miss Chapple?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She fell into step beside him, her hand on the rail. Once they started moving, she looked about a great deal more, taking in everything from paintings to the chandelier when they drew even with it. “Everything here is quite beautiful.”

  “I agree. My late-uncle and his wife had impeccable taste. Of course, a few things are out of date now and it will be up to you to bring the house up to our more modern tastes.” If she was in awe of the house, layering responsibilities upon her mind would likely cause her further stress. Her forehead wrinkled and she said nothing to that.

  When they arrived at the parlor, he opened the door and allowed her to enter first. She did not walk in with confidence, and certainly not as if she owned the room and everything in it. Her steps were small, hesitant, and she continued looking about as if surprised by it all. She stopped in the middle of the room, between two chairs facing the open windows, and did not move to sit.

  Adam followed, leaving the door ajar for propriety. “Do you like this room?” he asked, stopping on the opposite side of the seating area from her, behind a couch.

  “It is most comfortable.” She looked at the chairs, then at him. “Would you like to sit down?” She hesitantly lowered herself to one of them. “I am afraid I am not a very good hostess just yet.”

  “I suppose we must excuse you,” he said lightly, walking around the couch. “I imagine the house will take some getting used to, though I cannot claim to know what your former circumstances were like.” He sat and leaned back, at ease in the room and wanting her to know it.

  “My circumstances were not even a tenth so grand as this,” she admitted, a hint of a smile on her lips. “I am rather in awe of all that has happened. When Mr. Tuttle-Kirk brought me word, it took some time to understand him, let alone believe him.”

  Adam’s memory of the mustached man irritated him. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, Mr. Tuttle-Kirk is a unique fellow. I admit to making him repeat himself a few times.” Folding his arms, Adam gave her a tight smile. “I know your primary business today will be to settle into the house, so I will abstain from speaking of the more complex aspects of your inheritance at this time. For now, I merely wanted to introduce myself and let you know that I am completely at your disposal. Should you require anything when I am not here, send for me. I will make it my business for as long as necessary to be here or nearby.”

  “That is most kind of you,” she said with gentle sincerity.

  Kind? Was she painting over his part of the inheritance with politeness? Given the relief upon her face, she might not have expected the extent of his duties.

  “Not at all.”

  A maid appeared with a tea tray. She put it on a table near the door, curtsied, and disappeared again. Adam wanted to groan. Did no one in the house realize that Miss Chapple had no experience in their world? When she did not immediately rise to prepare the tea, Adam leaned forward slightly and stage-whispered to her. “I believe you are the hostess, miss.”

  Her pale face turned pink again and she rose hastily. “Yes, of course. I do apologize. Do you take anything in your tea, Mr. Gillensford?”

  “A teaspoon of sugar and touch of cream or milk, if it is available.” He watched her prepare their cups with interest. Though she had not immediately recognized her duty, she knew what she was about. Her hands moved with practiced ease, though they were still gloved. She seemed to realize the error as he did, for she stopped what she was doing and pulled her gloves off with haste. Then she untied the ribbons of her bonnet and laid the hat aside on the other end of the table.

  Adam glanced away, not wanting to be caught staring. When she turned her back to him to look into the mirror above the table, he sneaked one more look at her. The few auburn curls he had seen and thought charming had somewhat deceived him. The woman’s hair was a deep red, a color he could not remember seeing before, and it shone beautifully in the sunlight streaming through the windows. It was piled atop her head in a configuration more practical than attractive, but he could well imagine the stunning color drawing many eyes.

  When she reached for his cup of tea, he lowered his eyes to the carpet.

  “Here you are, Mr. Gillensford.” The woman held cup and saucer out to him. “There are some little sandwiches, too. Would you like one?”

  “No, thank you. But please, help yourself. Traveling always leaves me hungry.” Adam kept his eyes firmly on his tea when she went back to obtain her own refreshments. When she settled in her chair again, he looked up. “Is there anything I might assist you in today, Miss Chapple? The real work begins tomorrow, as I have said, but I would not wish to leave you prematurely.”

  “I cannot think of anything as of yet,” she admitted, lifting one shoulder in a weak shrug. “But perhaps you might tell me something of your uncle. I know so little of him and it feels wrong to be in his house when we were little more than strangers.”

  Ah, that was most revealing. “He was my great uncle, on my father’s side. Years ago, when he was my age, he scandalized the whole family by entering into trade and speculation. His father, the earl at that time, practically disowned him. Then my uncle shocked the family still more when he made a fortune investing in the American Colonies. He came back to Suffolk, and bought this house adjoining his father’s lands.”

  “He renamed it Tertium Park,” she put in, obviously having heard that much before. “What does it mean, exactly? It is Latin, is it not? I never studied Latin.” She said the last with a pained look, as though seeing it as a short-coming.

  “Most women do not,” he reassured her, unable to hide his amusement. “The modern languages are considered more important for ladies of large houses.”

  She gave a hesitant smile.

  “But Tertium is Latin for ‘third.’ He was a third son, you see. Naming the estate that and making certain it was as fine as his father’s, was something of a declaration. That might tell you more about his character than anything. My great-uncle believed he had every right to a good living, third son or not, and he built himself one through shrewd business decisions. He married and lived here quite happily all of his life.”

  Miss Chapple considered him a moment, sipping her tea. “He was not very happy when I met him.”

  “The first time you met him?”

  “The only time,” she answered, lowering her eyes. “He was standing in the rai
n, and he looked as though he had given up in expecting anything good in the world. In all honesty, I thought him a poor elderly man without a place to go or a friend to lean upon. I had no suspicion that he had all of this.” She swept the room with her eyes, then stared at him. “Or that he had family. He spoke as if he was alone in the world.”

  There was a question hidden in her expression, something she wanted to know but did not ask. He could guess it well enough. But Adam had no intention of answering. His relationship with his great-uncle, his family’s business, was not hers to worry over. He need only reveal what he wished.

  “I suppose he was somewhat eccentric. Leaving the entirety of his estate to someone he met only once is a better indication of that than anything I might say.” He put his cup down on the table near the couch, then stood. She came to her feet as well. “I must take my leave of you now.”

  “I am sorry if I offended you,” she said, her voice gentle and her expression soft.

  Adam raised a hand to dismiss her concerns. “Not at all. I will return tomorrow, at ten o’clock if that is not too early.”

  “As I am rather used to beginning my day at five o’clock, it is not.” She put her cup down too, along with a sandwich she had barely nibbled. “Thank you for your time today, Mr. Gillensford.”

  “Of course.” Adam bowed and left the room without a backward glance. Though he had maintained a calm exterior, his anger rose with every step he took away from that woman. She had met Peter Gillensford once. She knew nothing about him or his fortune. What had the old man been thinking, leaving an estate to a woman in trade? Of all the foolish, idiotic schemes!

  He collected his hat and gloves from Graham with barely concealed frustration and went out to mount his horse. A good ride was in order before he returned to his brother’s house.

  At least none of the family was at the estate currently. Richard had packed up his family and gone to London to see about the legalities of nullifying a will. Mother had taken Phillipa back to Town to finish out the Season. Georgiana had gone home to her husband, ten miles away from the family’s country seat. Being the sole occupant of the house, apart from the servants, gave Adam the freedom he needed to dance attendance upon Miss Chapple until he determined what he wanted from the arrangement.