The Scarred Heir

by Denise Patrick

  “I think Mona’s in the kitchen, she’ll—”

  The doctor shook his gray head. “Not Mona. He’s too handsome to trust Mona to do anything for him. You take it up.”

  She grinned, but still asked, “Doesn’t he have a manservant to do that for him?”

  “If he does, the man wasn’t up there with him.”

  Sarah took her time taking the glass back behind the bar and putting away the whiskey bottle.

  The doctor picked up his bag and coat and headed for the door. “He needs to take it now, so don’t take too long.” Then he was gone.

  Sarah shook her head and headed for the kitchen. She’d get Mona to take the water up. Ma was upstairs and would make certain nothing happened. Unfortunately, the kitchen was empty.

  “Now where’d she go?” she muttered. Sarah knew better than to try to find her. Mona had a knack for disappearing. In resignation, Sarah grabbed a jug and took it out to the well to fill. Putting it and a glass on a tray, she headed upstairs.

  The door across the hall from Royden’s room was open and the sounds she could hear coming from the room told her Ma was inside cleaning. Heartened by her presence, Sarah knocked then opened the door to Royden’s room.

  He was sitting in a chair near the window, reading. His leg was propped up on the bed. He wore a dark burgundy silk dressing gown and she was relieved to see he had a nightshirt on underneath it. Sunlight poured through the window, creating golden highlights in his hair.

  Her hands shook a bit when he looked up with a smile, and she put the tray down on the table just inside the door.

  “The doctor said you needed some water,” she said. “Would you like something else to go with it?”

  He closed the book and laid it on the small table beside his chair.

  “I won’t bite,” he said when she didn’t come any closer. “And I can’t come over there to get the water.”

  “Oh.” Chagrined, she picked up the glass and jug of water and brought it to him. “The doctor said you needed it to take some medicine. Do you need any help?”

  As she put the pitcher and glass down on the table beside him, she looked into his face. A mistake. His smile made him look approachable. If she hadn’t known what kind of person he was, she might have responded. At least she wouldn’t have tried not to respond.

  “No. And I don’t need any laudanum either.”

  She stepped back, away from the enticing smell of man and soap. “But-but the doctor said—”

  “I know what he said, but I don’t take laudanum unless it’s unavoidable.”

  “If you won’t take the laudanum then there’s no need for me to stay. Doesn’t your leg hurt?”

  “In fact, it does. Quite abominably so. But not enough for me to risk the laudanum for it.”

  She tilted her head to look at him. “Why?”

  “Because whenever I take laudanum, things happen that I don’t remember.”

  The eyes he turned on her were hypnotic. Unable to look away, she stared into the gray pools until a loud thump from the hall jolted her. She turned away.

  “Then I suppose you’ll just have to suffer in silence.”

  “Don’t run away.” His voice was a cross between a plea and a challenge. She couldn’t resist and turned back.

  “I’m not running away.”

  She studied him, noting he had shaved, but his hair was longer than she remembered. The white lines around his mouth would have told her he was in pain even if he hadn’t admitted it, despite the laugh lines around his eyes. She hadn’t remembered those before. The Lord Royden she’d known never laughed. Maybe the last two years had changed him. She grimaced. She didn’t want to think sympathetic thoughts about him. He and her uncle had come close to destroying her life. She shouldn’t care whether he was in pain or not, but she did.

  Against her better judgment, she asked, “Such as?”

  “Such as what?”

  “What don’t you remember?”

  “Important things like how and when I met you, and what I did to make you dislike me.”

  Startled speechless, Sarah’s mouth dropped open.

  “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. Anger coursed through her. “You and my uncle almost ruined my life. At least have the decency not to treat me like an imbecile.”

  She whirled to go but he reached out and caught her skirt. She felt the tug then heard a crash as he fell to the floor.

  He swore. Then, in a pleading voice, “Don’t go. Please. I’m sorry.”

  Max noted her struggle to regain her composure before turning back to him. When she did, he noticed a sheen of tears in her eyes. What the devil had David done? How had he ruined her life? Perhaps allowing her to continue to believe he was David had not been one of his better notions.

  His leg throbbed and he only hoped it hadn’t started bleeding again. He shouldn’t have lunged for her like that, but he didn’t want her to leave. He was bored, and the thought of spending another five days like today was enough to drive him mad. He needed someone to talk to, even if it was only the innkeeper’s very alluring daughter.

  She dropped beside him. “Are you hurt? Did you re-injure your leg?” Her anxious tone soothed him. The concern in her eyes buoyed his spirits. She smelled like sunshine and outdoors and he wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked.

  “I don’t think so,” he managed in a level voice. “But I will need your assistance to return to my chair.”

  Together, they were able to get him back up, but he chose to settle on the bed.

  “Are you certain you don’t want just a little of the laudanum?”

  He shook his head. “It will calm down in a few minutes.”

  She was breathing heavily, but she stood over him and put her hands on her hips. The familiar stance of his nurse about to scold had him expecting her next words. “That was a stupid thing to do.”

  He resisted the urge to pull her down beside him, and tried to smile. “I know.”

  “Then why…?”

  “I think that should be obvious. I didn’t want you to leave.”

  She shook her head and sighed. Wisps of pale hair had escaped her bun, creating a halo around her face. She looked like an angel and, despite the pain in his leg, another part of his anatomy stirred.

  “Hmmm. Well, if you don’t want any laudanum, would you like a little whiskey? Da keeps a special kind from Scotland just for the doctor. The doctor said you might like some and he was willing to share.”

  He studied her for a moment. The dress she wore was obviously too large, concealing her curves from anyone who might look too closely, but tying the apron on had revealed a slender waist beneath the bulk. Did she deliberately try to disguise herself? Why?

  “I wouldn’t mind some, but I’d much rather you sat and talked to me.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise and she took a step backward.

  “I-I don’t think…”

  “I can’t hurt you,” he pressed. “I can’t even get up without help.” The last statement was only partially true, but the doctor had warned him about moving around too much on his leg without something or someone to support him. “You can move the chair out of arm’s reach and be perfectly safe.”

  “I don’t think we have anything to talk about,” she finally said.

  “Actually, I think we do.”

  She didn’t move farther away, but now she eyed him suspiciously. “Such as?”

  “Why don’t you remind me of our previous encounter. If I have caused you harm, I will try to rectify it.”

  Disbelief crossed her features. He was struck by how expressive her face was. She would never be a good card player. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared down her nose at him for a very long time before she spoke.

  “I doubt you can, but you can try.”

  A noise in the hallway caught her attention and she turned away. She’d left the door open, and now she went to check on whoever was outside the door.

  “Jessie?
Whut you doin’ in there?” He recognized Mrs. Merriweather’s voice.

  “Doc Kiley asked me to bring his lordship up some water.”

  Mrs. Merriweather came into the room. She glanced around as if looking for someone or something, then turned her gaze on him.

  “I thought I heard sumpthin’ fall.”

  “Um, uh, his lordship…” Jessie turned to look at him for support.

  Unable to resist the appeal in her eyes, he said, “I’m afraid I tried to stand and couldn’t.”

  “I was just going to get him some of Dr. Kiley’s whiskey.” Jessie glanced back at him before she slipped around the large woman, picked up the tray from the table, and hurried out the door.

  Mrs. Merriweather came over and stood beside his bed, looking down at him. He’d once had a tutor who could make him feel guilty just by staring at him. The innkeeper’s wife had the same look. He resisted the impulse to fidget with his dressing gown, keeping his hands folded in his lap with difficulty.

  “Don’t you be tryin’ nuthin’ with Jessie, now,” she warned. “She don’t have no use fer the likes o’ you.”

  “I wasn’t trying anything,” he replied. “I merely asked her to sit and talk with me. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly able to chase her around the room right now.”

  Mrs. Merriweather’s lips thinned. “Don’t be gettin’ on yer high horse with me, your lordship. Jessie don’t need any o’ yer kind chasin’ after her. She done had enough o’ that.”

  “I see.” He studied the woman for a moment, before asking, “Do you know why she dislikes me?”

  “You?” She shook her head. “No. But if’n she wants to tell you, she will. You just take care not to be mixin’ her up with Mona. If you wants a tumble,” she said bluntly, “Mona’s yer girl. Jessie, she’s a lady, so you keep yer hands to yerself, ye ken?”

  Jessie re-entered the room as he nodded in acknowledgment. As she put down the tray she carried, she looked from Mrs. Merriweather to him and back.

  “What’s wrong, Ma?”

  “Nuthin’, Jessie-girl.” The woman moved the chair back from the bed and flicked the rag she held over the seat. “Why don’t you sit a bit and keep his lordship company? I’ll have Mona do the tables downstairs.”

  “I’ve already done them. I was just finishing up when Dr. Kiley came downstairs.”

  Mrs. Merriweather headed for the door. “Then you ken rest a bit.”

  Jessie watched her leave then turned back to him with a frown. “What was that about?”

  “I’m not certain.” And that was the truth. He wasn’t certain if he’d passed some sort of test, or if Mrs. Merriweather was convinced he was harmless. Either way, he was happy for the company he’d obviously been allowed.

  “What did you say to her?” She approached the bed and handed him a glass half-full of amber liquid then sat in the chair as he took a sip.

  The liquid slid smoothly over his tongue and down his throat. “Your doctor has good taste in whiskey.”

  She smiled. “That’s what Da says too. I wouldn’t know.”

  He returned her smile then took another sip of his drink.

  “Didn’t you bring a manservant with you?”

  Her question surprised him and he wondered why she wanted to know. Then he laughed at himself. It was an obvious question considering who she thought he was.

  “Actually, I sent him ahead to London. I didn’t expect to be held up.” He had expected to take his time getting to the capital, so Dodson didn’t expect him too soon, but being laid up at an inn for five days hadn’t figured into his plans, either.

  “Will he come back to look for you?”

  “No. He’s used to me taking my time catching up with him. Under normal circumstances, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  She glanced around the room then turned blue eyes back to him. “Oh.”

  He watched her pleat and smooth the fabric of the apron she wore, her fingers working nervously. She was still uncomfortable, despite the apparent approval of Mrs. Merriweather to bear him company.

  He put his glass down on the bedside table and leaned back against the pillows again.

  “The Merriweathers aren’t truly your parents, are they?” Despite its formulation as a question, it was unmistakably a statement. The innkeeper and his wife had distinctly common accents with bits and pieces of Scottish slang thrown in, while Jessie spoke like a lady and made no effort to hide her gentle tone. Not to mention that Mrs. Merriweather specifically said Jessie was a lady.

  “No,” she responded, “although why that’s any of your concern, I fail to see.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  Her eyes widened in contrition. “I didn’t mean…”

  “Of course you did,” he replied. “And rightly so. I have obviously trespassed into private matters that are none of my concern.” When she didn’t respond, he mentally shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound. “So, just what did I do to generate such a decidedly hostile reception?”

  She tilted her head to one side, as if studying him from another angle. For a long time, she just stared at him, her forehead creased in a frown, speculation in her eyes.

  “You truly don’t remember?”

  “I apologize for seeming slow, but no, I don’t.”

  “Did they give you laudanum when you were injured? Is that why?”

  He hesitated. “Yes.” It wasn’t the complete truth, but it was enough of the truth that it answered her question.

  “Oh.” She watched him for a short while longer then took a deep breath. Looking down at her hands, she said, “You-you tried to force me to marry you.”

  He was glad she was looking down because he wasn’t certain his face didn’t reveal his shock at her revelation.

  “Then you’re safe now.”

  Her head snapped up. “Why?”

  “Because I’m already married.”

  Chapter Three

  Sarah stared at him in disbelief, wondering if she dared ask him who his victim was and when it happened, yet unable to understand the small stab of disappointment she felt. Immediately on the heels of that thought came the realization that she was free. No more worrying about being discovered. No more sneaking around when there were guests from London. No more wondering if the man sitting in the bed before her was searching for her. She was free!

  Relief poured through her like a tidal wave. If she hadn’t been sitting down, her legs would no longer have held her, so lightheaded did she suddenly feel. And if she hadn’t been sitting in front of him, she would have laughed out loud. As it was, she couldn’t stop the silly grin she knew was spreading across her face.

  “I never thought a revelation could bring anyone such unbridled pleasure.”

  Lord Royden’s dry voice cut into her internal celebration, bringing her back to earth with a jolt. Heat rose in her cheeks.

  “Your pardon, my lord, and I thank you for your honesty. Will your wife be joining you soon?”

  “No.”

  A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and Sarah hurried to answer it.

  Mrs. Merriweather stood outside with a tray. “I thought his lordship might like some tea.”

  The aroma of freshly baked scones floated up from the tray. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten much at all today.

  “I heard that,” Mrs. Merriweather said. “You git yerself downstairs and grab a bite afore the wind blows you away.”

  Sarah didn’t wait to be told again. She slipped past Mrs. Merriweather and went down the stairs.

  There was a special corner in purgatory for people like him. And right now he’d gladly occupy it. Of all the things he’d done in his lifetime, lying to an angel had to top the worst of the worst. But how bad could it be when it obviously brought her such joy?

  Sipping his tea and chewing on a scone, Max knew he shouldn’t think about the lovely Jessie, but he couldn’t forget her reaction to his disclosure. She’
d been ecstatic, trying not to openly rejoice, but it was obvious his news had changed the way she considered him. He was no longer the enemy.

  He would have to tell her the truth before he left. Especially if, as he suspected, there was more to it than just not wanting to marry David. Thank goodness David had written to tell him about his marriage.

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Stop thinking about her. He was back in England to see his father, clear his name and bring Millie’s murderer to justice. Until then, no one must know he was back.

  It was fortunate Jessie had mistaken him for David. He could use that to his advantage. If others did the same, it would make things easier. As long as David and he did not frequent the same places. It would do him no good if people who knew about Millie suspected he was back.

  He relaxed back into the pillows and smiled. There were definite advantages to having an identical twin.

  Sarah didn’t see Lord Royden again until the next afternoon. After rising early to help Mrs. Merriweather with the baking, she’d hurried to see Betsy. Her former maid was just as surprised and delighted as she had been at Lord Royden’s news.

  “So, are you planning to leave then?” Betsy asked.

  “No,” she replied. “I don’t want to risk falling into my uncle’s clutches again. I’ll wait until I’m of age before I go anywhere. Besides, I want to hold that baby before I leave.”

  On her way back to the inn, she reflected on how much lighter she felt. She knew her uncle had made a deal with Lord Royden to split her inheritance between them. If she returned now, before she was twenty-one, her uncle might still try to force her to marry someone else of his choosing.

  Despite the bright sunshine, it was a blustery day with a cool breeze blowing through the trees. She hurried down the lane toward the inn, looking forward to the warmth she knew she’d find in the kitchen.

  Entering the public room, she was surprised to find Lord Royden sitting at a table by a window. He and Mr. Merriweather were talking and both had mugs of ale sitting in front of them. He looked up as she entered the room. She had been chilled walking back from Betsy’s, yet now she felt warm as his gaze touched her.