The Scarred Heir

by Denise Patrick

“I-I…just curious.”

  Then she slipped through the door and was gone.

  Chapter Five

  The coincidence was too great.

  Lord Royden had told his brother he’d married her. Or had he? She hadn’t moved much in the ton, so she had no idea if there was another Sarah. But the timing was right. The last day of the year was definitely after Christmas and it had only been a few years ago. Two to be precise.

  Why? He never expected Max to meet her. That’s what Max said. He would never have gone to France, and never expected Max to return to England. Pain pierced her breast again. David never planned to honor his promise. He’d even lied, saying she was afraid to travel.

  Entering the kitchen, she prepared herself a plate then sat at the table. Distracted by her whirling thoughts, and despite the flavorful aromas, she tasted little of Ma’s wonderful stew.

  Now what? Now that there was still the possibility Lord Royden could be looking for her, what should she do? Max said he’d help her. Or rather, he’d rectify what Lord Royden had done to her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see how he could help, unless he could give her back the last two years.

  A sigh escaped as it occurred to her that Max might be headed to London to see his brother. The lightness of the past two days evaporated. Would he tell his brother where she was? Despite her instinct that David and Max were very different, they were still brothers. And she was just a woman who had severely embarrassed one of them in a very public way.

  Would he truly help her once he learned her story? Or would he feel he should inform his brother of her whereabouts? She bit her lip in consternation. Should she rely on his seemingly sincere comments? At this point she had nothing to lose by asking. If he meant it, she hoped she’d know. If not, she’d continue to make certain he sent no letters while he was here—and she’d find somewhere else to go for the next two months.

  Hope instantly lifted her spirits and she finished the last of her stew quickly, washing it down with a mug of water. It wasn’t much of a plan, but she washed her plate and put it away then hurried back up to Max’s room. She didn’t give herself time to wonder if he’d really help her, or time to worry that he might say no.

  The surprise on his face when she entered again made her wonder if he had expected someone else.

  “Either you didn’t eat much, or you ate very fast.”

  She laughed nervously. “A little of both.”

  Shadows filled the room as darkness settled outside. Rain still fell, but the wind was picking up. She sat across the table from him again, folding her shaking hands together in her lap. He’d finished his meal and was writing a letter. Was he writing to his brother?

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she began. A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed convulsively.

  “You haven’t.” His tone was reassuring. “I was merely writing to my friend in Scotland. I’m sure he expects that I should be reaching London by now and his coach would be returning within the next couple of weeks.”

  “Oh.” The tightness in her throat eased a bit. “Does he expect it back soon?”

  “No. He let me use it because he didn’t plan on needing it for at least another couple of months.”

  “What did you plan to do when you got to London? Were you going to visit your brother?”

  He studied her for a few moments, while he seemed to mull over her question. Then he put down the quill and re-capped the bottle of ink.

  “No. I’m afraid visiting my brother was not on my list of things to do initially. However, I’m beginning to re-evaluate that list.” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop and looked up at the ceiling. “Would you tell me something?”

  “If I can.”

  “Why did my brother try to force you to marry him?”

  “I assume it was because he wanted money. He and my uncle planned to divide my father’s fortune between them.”

  “I see.” The eyes resting on her were dark in the candlelight. “When did your father die?”

  She sighed. “That’s just it. I don’t believe he’s dead.”

  A dark eyebrow quirked. “Why not?”

  “My father and I were very close. I think I would…know. When my uncle first told me, I didn’t believe it. Even when the solicitor came, I just couldn’t. Papa was an excellent swimmer. I find it hard to believe he drowned.” She studied the grooves in the tabletop for a moment, gathering her nerve. “I–I came back up to–to ask if you might be able to help me find my father.”

  When he didn’t answer immediately, she rushed on. “Lord Royden said he’d take me to France to look for my father, but I don’t think he ever intended to. And–and you did say you…”

  “I did say that I would try to rectify the wrong, didn’t I?” he finished with a smile.

  Her nod was hesitant.

  “Where in France?”

  “Nantes. He is part owner of a vineyard and winery near there. He usually takes a trip down there in the autumn, but three years ago one of his partners wrote and asked him to come in the summer. I went back to Statler Hall while he went to France. I could have gone with him, but after all the hustle and bustle of the season, I just wanted to spend some time at home.”

  “Alone?”

  “Not completely alone. My old governess was still there. She acted as my companion when I was at home, but since my aunt sponsored me when I went to London for the season, Miss Treacle stayed in Kent. Then, in August, I received a letter from my father that informed me he would be staying through the autumn and urged me to go back to London for the little season. He also wrote my aunt and asked her to sponsor me again.”

  “Did you receive no offers during your first season, or just none to your liking?”

  “None to my liking. But I had enjoyed myself, so I agreed to go back in the autumn. I wish now I hadn’t.”

  She wouldn’t tell him her first encounter with Lord Royden had left her awestruck. Or that she’d been foolishly thrilled when he began to court her. She didn’t understand why, but she didn’t want Max to think of her as one of those shallow, silly debutantes whose only ambitions were a handsome face, deep pocket and title, and not necessarily in that order.

  “Did you meet David in the autumn for the first time, then?”

  She nodded. “I think it was at a dinner party. My uncle introduced us.”

  “And your uncle is?”

  “Sir Samuel Andallen, Baronet. His wife is my father’s sister.”

  “And your father?”

  “Viscount Lakersby.”

  Those unreadable gray eyes continued to watch her and she wondered if he thought she’d fabricated the entire story. What would she do if he refused to help her? Suppose he left in a couple of days—without her. Then what?

  She shifted uneasily in her chair. Wind rattled the window and droplets splattered against the pane. The wind seemed to be tapering off as the rain was picking up. A shiver snaked its way down her spine as worry entered her thoughts. He had to take her with him. He just had to.

  Max kept his face impassive with difficulty. He’d heard of her father—from his own. Viscount Lakersby owned a piece of property that once belonged to the Calderbrooke earldom and Max’s father had been trying to purchase it back for years. Only the viscount wouldn’t sell.

  It escaped him why David might have been willing to force a young heiress into marriage. Although, the lure of regaining something their father dearly wanted might have pushed him over. But he didn’t know David any longer. Once they left school and he purchased his commission, they’d drifted apart.

  “I think I can help you, but I wanted to ask you a favor as well.” He sat back in his chair and stretched his leg out under the table. “However, before I do, I think it prudent we both be truthful with one another regarding our motives and expectations.”

  “Do you not think I’m telling you the truth?”

  He shook his head. “I believe you, but you might not believe my tale.”

  �
��Oh.” Curiosity appeared in the blue depths.

  “I originally left the country because I was the prime suspect in a murder I didn’t commit.”

  Surprise chased its way across her features, but it wasn’t followed by horror or fear. He let out the breath he held. So far so good. At least she was willing to listen.

  When she said nothing, he continued. “I returned from the continent in July, 1815, severely injured. After Waterloo, I was taken to one of the many makeshift hospitals. It took almost a month before I was told I could travel home, but I wasn’t completely healed and still needed laudanum to control the pain.”

  He shifted his leg again and she glanced at it in concern.

  “Is your leg paining you? Should you like to move to the bed to prop it up?”

  “No, I’m fine. It’s healing and as it does so, the wound itches.” He reached down and rubbed the area around the actual wound. “Now, where was I? When I finally made it home, my father hired a private doctor and nurse to tend me around the clock. Our local doctor was away, and he didn’t trust anyone else. Unfortunately, by then I was nearly addicted to the laudanum. I took it far more often than I should have. Worse, though, after a month of the doctor and nurse hovering over me, I dismissed them both, but continued to dose myself.

  “Once the doctor and nurse left, strange things began to happen, especially at night. Things would go missing from various rooms in the house and turn up in my room. Or things from my room would turn up in other places in the house. The conclusion was that I was sleepwalking. My batman took to sleeping in my dressing room with the door open. Even so, he never heard a sound on the nights I supposedly wandered. Unfortunately, we are both rather sound sleepers.”

  The smooth skin between her brows crinkled in thought. “Why? Was it assumed you murdered someone while sleepwalking?”

  He took a deep breath to loosen the tightness in his chest. “Yes. Millie was one of the local village girls. David and I grew up with her. While I was recuperating, she came to see me a couple of times.”

  Leaning forward, he put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Millie’s face, all sparkling eyes and pink cheeks, floated before him. So young. Too young to die.

  “Max?” Jessie’s soft voice tugged at him.

  “The last time—the night she died—she came to see me, she offered herself to me and I didn’t respond well. I was angry. I just couldn’t see her as anything other than the young girl David and I played with as children. I know I hurt her feelings. After she ran from the room, I took a larger than usual dose of laudanum.”

  His voice cracked. He took a shuddering breath. Air was suddenly in short supply and his lungs hurt with the effort to drag in a breath.

  “The next morning they found her on the flagstones beneath my bedroom window—my open bedroom window.”

  He heard her gasp softly, but she said nothing.

  He looked up and his gaze sought and held hers. “Her neck was broken. A shredded piece of her dress was found caught on the inside of my window frame.”

  “And you didn’t hear anything?”

  He glanced down at his letter again. “No.” When he looked back up at her, she merely watched him with sympathy in her eyes. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Now you know why I won’t take laudanum. And why my brother never expected me to return to England. He helped me leave the country and, I suspect, paid off Millie’s parents.”

  He fell silent. For a long time, the only sound in the room was the light rain outside the window. He told himself he was giving her time to digest his story. The truth was he didn’t know what else to say. A chill whispered down his back, but he held himself still.

  “Do you think David killed her?”

  “Yes…no…” Max’s thoughts swam with the question he’d not wanted to voice himself. “I don’t want to think he could do something so horrible then lay it at my door, but Lion is convinced he did.”

  “Lion?”

  “My friend, Lionel, Viscount Lanyon.”

  She was silent as the wind resumed its assault on the trees outside. He could hear the rustling of the leaves, but the sound of falling rain had finally stopped.

  “I don’t know that I could believe he killed anyone, but I didn’t know him very well.” Her lips formed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I was always trying to avoid him after I discovered he only wanted my father’s fortune.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” he lied. “He couldn’t possibly have needed funds.”

  She shrugged a slim shoulder. “I wouldn’t know, either.”

  He smiled at her. “There’s no reason why you should.”

  She leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. “You said you wanted to ask me a favor too.”

  He hesitated. After learning her story, he questioned whether he should ask her after all. She’d run away to avoid David. But then again, David was now married. He gave himself a mental shake. What was the worst she could say? No?

  “I thought maybe you could help me do a little digging.” He reached down and rubbed his leg again. “I wanted to ask if you’d accompany me to London. With this hole in my leg, I won’t be able to get around as easily as I would have otherwise.”

  “Would you want me to go with you to see your brother?” In the flickering candlelight he read caution in her gaze.

  “I actually hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  “Oh.”

  “You needn’t answer me immediately. Sleep on it then decide if you might be able to face him again. Although, at least he won’t try to force you to wed him again. His wife might not approve.”

  His attempt at lightening the mood only reminded Sarah of what she suspected.

  “About his wife,” she began. “I-I’m not sure he was entirely truthful with you about that.”

  “Why? And how do you know?”

  “He tried to force me to marry him in December 1816.”

  “And you refused?”

  “Yes, but…” She hesitated, wondering how to go about explaining what she suspected. “You said he told you he married someone named Sarah around the end of the year a few years ago.”

  “True.”

  “December 1816 was only a few years ago and…and before I ran away he knew me as Sarah.”

  The silence in the room was deafening. Even the wind outside had stopped. Max continued to stare at her, confusion in his eyes, until the words registered and comprehension dawned. Then he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. She waited, noting the strength in his neck and jaw. Then he swallowed and opened his eyes.

  “How?”

  “How what?”

  “How did it happen?”

  She gave him an abbreviated explanation about the aborted wedding and her flight. “My maid’s parents live near here and the Merriweathers are her aunt and uncle. They agreed to let me hide out until I could go home again. In return, I help out when I can.”

  He smiled then and her heart did a little skip. Just like David, Max was extraordinarily handsome, but unlike David, there was a gentleness in him. She could never picture Max killing anyone.

  “I knew you didn’t look like a Jessie.”

  Dumbfounded, she stared at him for a full minute before she burst into laughter.

  Sarah was still chuckling to herself when she left Max’s room to climb the stairs to her own a short time later. She’d promised to give his request some thought, although she knew she’d agree. He was her best chance to get to London for now. It seemed important to him that she think it over. Maybe he thought she feared facing his brother again. Or worried that she might think she was putting herself into the hands of a murderer.

  She didn’t. It was her uncle she might have some trepidation about coming face-to-face with. If her father still hadn’t returned from France, her uncle would continue to try to control her in hopes of controlling her father’s fortune. Had her father known what kind of person her uncle was? Perhaps that exp
lained the unusual clause in his will.

  When the solicitor first told her about her father’s disappearance, because she refused to believe it, he’d said nothing about the provisions of the will. She only knew about them because her father had told her of them when he’d made the will. One provision in particular, she was convinced, was the only reason she was still alive.

  Her father had left everything to her, but in trust until she turned twenty-one, unless she married first. Upon her twenty-first birthday, she would have complete access and control over his entire fortune. He’d cautioned her to rely on his bankers for advice, but expressed confidence that she wouldn’t fritter it away. There was nothing unusual in that, but then he’d added a clause that instructed his bankers and solicitors to distribute the entire fortune to a list of charities should she meet with an untimely death before her twenty-first birthday, or if she died after her twenty-first birthday, unwed and without having made a will herself. Either way, Sarah guessed he meant her aunt, who was her only other living relative, would not receive a penny unless she specifically left it to her.

  Max, too, was chuckling over her recitation of the wedding. Jessie—or Sarah, it seemed—had a backbone of steel. He couldn’t imagine getting all the way to the wedding ceremony and saying no in front of all the guests. He would have loved to have seen David’s face. Had he been angry? Amused? Surprised? More likely, he’d been embarrassed. Max frowned. Would David be out for revenge?

  As he settled into the bed, adjusting his leg to a more comfortable position, he wondered why David wanted to marry her at all. Was he, as she suspected, just after her fortune?

  Max gave a mental shrug. It was easier to believe that David saw an opportunity to regain land their father coveted than the alternative.

  As the heir to the Earl of Calderbrooke, David did not need funds. While in France, Max had continued to receive his stipend from the trust, although through David. But, if the trust had become insolvent, would David have said anything to him?

  He closed his eyes and pictured Jessie–Sarah. Perhaps he needn’t look much farther than the woman herself.