The Scarred Heir

by Denise Patrick

  “I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I don’t know what came over me.” She tried to smile, but the sadness in her eyes wouldn’t let go.

  Max reached up and stroked her cheek. “It’s all right. We all have fears that overwhelm us occasionally. I hope you know you needn’t continue to face yours alone.”

  Her lips parted in surprise. Wonder blossomed in her eyes, replacing the sorrow. When he bent close, she lifted her face as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  His first taste of her had only been a teasing brush. The memory tantalized him with what might have been if he hadn’t passed out. This time, however, he was not losing blood. It was turning to liquid fire in his veins. He had not just saved her from a drunken patron and, hopefully, no one would have to save her from him.

  Her lips were soft beneath his, tentative and uncertain. Expecting her to pull away, he hesitated. When she didn’t, he pressed forward, licking along her lower lip until she softened against him. His tongue slipped between lips made salty by her tears, seeking the warmth within.

  Hunger erupted in his gut and he pulled her closer, angling his head to savor more of her sweetness. Her tongue sought and tangled with his and he suddenly realized she was kissing him back. When had his need to sample turned into a sensual give and take? He wasn’t bent on seduction, but if he had she might have willingly participated. The thought gave him pause as he raised his head.

  Whatever conclusion he thought he’d come to dissipated when he looked into her eyes. Shock, surprise, mortification and more flitted through the gaze she raised to his. In fact, he was certain that if he hadn’t been holding her, she would have bolted from the room.

  “You are welcome to slap me, if you wish.”

  She blinked. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she replied in a halting voice. “I…I didn’t try to stop…you, after all.” Blood rose in her face again and she looked away.

  As she righted herself into a sitting position, he relaxed his hold and rested his arm on the back of the settee. Did she realize her knot had come loose and was unraveling down her back? The pale waterfall invited him to touch and he reached out and smoothed a stray strand back behind her ear.

  Perhaps it was time to bring things back under control. Ruthlessly, he quashed all thoughts of her soft, pliant body draped over him. He cleared his throat.

  “If you would like to go to London, we could leave day after tomorrow.”

  “Very well,” she murmured. “I will be pleased to join you.”

  Then she got to her feet and left the room.

  Max rested his head on the back of the settee and closed his eyes. He could still feel her, smell her, taste her. She was permanently imprinted on every last one of his senses and he was afraid she’d never fade away. Did he want her to?

  Max left Sarah to settle in at the Pulteney. They’d arrived late and had supper delivered to their rooms. Now, checking the time and the missive he’d received only the day before, he set off toward the docks.

  The acrid smell of burning grease assaulted Max’s nose as he entered the Green Turtle. The dim light and cloud of smoke further obscured his vision. Carefully, he made his way to the back of the room and a small table occupied by one person.

  “Couldn’t you find someplace better to meet?”

  Dodson waved at a barmaid, who brought over a tankard and set it in front of Max. After she was gone, Max took a tentative sip. He expected swill, but found a surprisingly good mouthful.

  “Didn’t want you ta be seen.” Dodson was surveying the room as he spoke. “There’s mischief afoot and even your mug could cause trouble.”

  “Me? And what has my face to do with anything?”

  “Look like yer brother, don’tcha?”

  “Well, yes.”

  Dodson nodded. “Don’t want anyone mistaking you.”

  “Mistaking me?”

  “For him. For you.”

  Dodson took another swig from his tankard then set it down with a thump. Max was surprised no one glanced their way.

  “Yer brother is pretending ta be you.”

  Confusion set in. “Me? But why?” Max shook his head. “I’m wanted for murder.”

  “Not in London, you ain’t.”

  Max reeled as if he’d been slapped. Not in London. Why hadn’t that occurred to him? No one in London knew about Millie.

  He took a large swallow from his tankard.

  “How do you know he’s impersonating me?”

  “Staff at the townhouse. Got on the good side o’ one o’ the parlor maids.” Despite the broken nose and scar on his left cheek, Dodson considered himself something of a ladies’ man. Now he smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “Sez Lord Royden ain’t been back to London since he was jilted at the altar a couple o’ years back. Says now his brother always comes.”

  Dodson took another swig from his tankard.

  Why was he surprised? Hadn’t Lion hinted at the same thing? Only, he hadn’t truly believed it then. Why would David pretend to be him? He wasn’t the heir.

  “Still friends with Andallen, though.”

  Max wrinkled his forehead in thought. The name was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Who is Andallen?”

  “Sir Samuel Andallen. Uncle of the piece what left him at the church. Not a nice character. I think he’s got somethin’ on yer brother.”

  “Why?”

  “Dunno. Jest a hunch. Comes and goes a lot at the townhouse. Seems a bit old to be part o’ yer brother’s crowd o’ friends. Never stays long. I’m thinkin’ he’s there picking up somethin’.”

  Max pondered his man’s assessment that Sarah’s uncle might have something on his brother. Blackmail? Perhaps that explained his brother’s behavior.

  “Blackmail?”

  Dodson shook his head. “Dunno.”

  “What have you found out about the baron?”

  “Not much so far. Wife was the sister of a Viscount Lakersby. Rumor has it the viscount drowned jest afore the botched wedding, but no body was ever found. Left his estate in limbo. The baronet is insisting the daughter is dead too, ’cause no one seen her since she disappeared two years ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Money, of course. The viscount’s estate is s’posed ta be verra plump.”

  “Is there an heir to the viscountcy?”

  “Dunno.”

  Max sat back in his chair and finished off his ale. Perhaps Sarah knew if there was an heir and who it might be. It would make more sense if there was an heir trying to claim Sarah’s father’s fortune, but her uncle? What made him think he was entitled—except perhaps through his wife?

  That’s what Sarah thought. Her aunt and uncle had conspired with David to split her inheritance once he married her. David had no need for the money, so why he would willingly do such a thing was beyond Max. He wondered if, indeed, Sarah’s uncle was blackmailing David and if so, what he was blackmailing him about. That might explain David’s cooperation in his scheme.

  “I’m guessin’ yer brother had a lucky escape two years ago.”

  “How so?”

  “I s’pect yer brother wouldn’ta wanted ta be connected ta Sir Samuel fer the rest o’ his life. Bet the niece is a real piece o’ work.”

  Max sat back against the seat and regarded Dodson for a long moment before he replied. “Actually, in that you’re mistaken.”

  His batman looked at him in surprise. “An’ how would you know?”

  Max grinned at him conspiratorially. “Because I brought Miss Standish with me to London.”

  “You did? But, how…?”

  “I was held up by a highwayman on my way here,” Max began. As he told the story of his injury and convalescence, Dodson’s eyes grew rounder. Listening to himself, Max understood his man’s wonder. The tale did sound a little far-fetched and full of too many coincidences.

  He thought of Sarah and her desire to visit her father’s solicitor. They’d discussed it, but made no firm plans. Perhaps
he’d accompany her. He didn’t want to believe her solicitor might be in on the uncle’s plan, but he was taking no chances. Her father’s solicitor wouldn’t be the first to stoop to unethical tactics or take a bribe.

  “Would you find out if he’s in his room, Annie?” Sarah addressed the maid headed for the door.

  “Yes, Miss.” Annie opened the door to the hotel room. “I’ll go check right away.”

  As the door closed behind her, Sarah turned to survey the room she’d been given. Last night, all she’d done was eat and fall into bed. The room was well-appointed with plush velvet draperies and bedcovers and thick Turkish rugs on the floor. There was a door off to her left that the maid told her was a sitting room, but she had no inclination right now to explore. Annie had stored her clothes in the clothespress so Sarah had nothing to do but wonder whether Max was up yet and whether she should attempt to contact her father’s solicitor.

  Mr. Payne had been sympathetic when he told her of her father’s death, but she still hadn’t believed him any more than she believed her uncle. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder at the time whether the solicitor might have been part of the scheme, but now the thought arose. And with it came a shiver of unease.

  Suppose she went to see Mr. Payne and he informed her uncle she was back? Her birthday was still over a month away. Was there enough time for her uncle to try to force her to marry again? The solicitor had done nothing the last time, even after she told him she did not wish to marry Royden. She wilted into a chair before the fireplace. What should she do now? She no longer knew who to trust. There was no one to turn to.

  Except Max. Which was why she’d sent Annie to find him.

  A knock on the door startled her out of the chair. She hurried to the door and threw it open.

  “Do you always just open the door without asking who it is first?” Max demanded.

  He stepped into the room and closed the door. He brought with him the smell of outdoors and she wondered where he’d been.

  “Never do that again.” His face was set in grim lines as he looked around her room. Then he turned back, and the lines softened. “Are you comfortable?”

  She blinked at the sudden change in demeanor. “I, uh yes, thank you.”

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I spent too much of last night trying to decide what to do about David.”

  She returned to her chair. He followed and took the one across from her. “What about your brother?”

  He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. The strain on his face was obvious and she wondered how serious the problem was. “I met up with my man last night. The one I’d sent ahead to do some checking for me.”

  “Was the news very bad?”

  “Not really. Nor was it good either.” He ran his hand through his hair. The frustrated gesture tousled his hair and made him more approachable. “David has apparently assumed my identity.”

  Surprise kept her silent for a few moments. “Did your man have any idea why?”

  Max shook his head. “He is still looking into the problem, but in the meantime, he suggested I not venture out in public. We have no idea what might happen should I be mistaken for David—or myself—on the street. Dodson also thinks your uncle has some sort of hold over David.”

  “But—” She stopped and sat back in the chair. Suddenly she began to see David’s courting of her in a different light. “It’s possible.”

  “What’s possible?”

  “That my uncle was coercing your brother into marrying me. I wonder if the times he reacted angrily to me were the result of fear.” She recalled the wedding. “At the church he never attempted to stop me,” she told him. “At one point all he would have had to do was grab me. I could not have escaped him.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  She shook her head. “In fact, I assumed the only reason I got away was because I surprised him when I pushed him off the train of my gown. At the time it didn’t occur to me that he could have stopped me if he truly wanted to. Instead, he stood by and watched.” She looked up Max again. “Perhaps I misjudged him.”

  “Perhaps. However, the question still remains of why he is posing as me, and what, if anything, your uncle might have on him.”

  She nodded. “Do you have any idea how to find out?”

  “Not a clue, but I need to pay my father’s solicitor a visit. That was the reason my father sent me to London in the first place. I don’t know why, but he wanted me to hand deliver a letter.”

  “I have been wondering if I should go see my father’s solicitor too. I don’t know if he’d alert my uncle that I was back.”

  Max stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “We can continue the ruse of an engagement, and I would be happy to accompany you. If we meet anyone who thinks I’m David, but I don’t know them, then I’ll just have to assume his identity.”

  A giggle escaped and Max looked at her in confusion.

  “I’m sorry, but I find this wholly amusing. Two grown men switching places like schoolboys playing pranks. I suspect before this is all over, the ton won’t know who is who.”

  He smiled at her assessment. “I’m afraid that before this is all over, we might not either.” He sat up. “However, for now we will use the confusion to our advantage.”

  “How?”

  “You did tell me you needed some new gowns, right?”

  “Well, yes, I did. But,” she rushed on, “I didn’t mean that you should pay for them. Once I contact my father’s solicitor, he should be able to pay any bills I incur.”

  He grimaced. “Very well. Do you have a modiste in mind?” He got up and went to the door to the sitting room. Sarah followed.

  In the small, but comfortably furnished room, he went to a small writing desk in the corner. Extracting a sheet of paper, he found a quill and bottle of ink.

  “When I was here last, I was satisfied with Madame Marchand. She had a small shop just off Bond Street.”

  Max dashed off a note, then signed, sanded and sealed it. “I’ll have Dodson escort your maid to deliver this, and hopefully your Madame will appear here this afternoon. In the meantime, shall we brave the streets of London in search of your solicitor and mine?”

  Chapter Eight

  Tucked away on a small street in the financial district was the firm of Payne and Walters, Esq. The street was quiet and the inside of the offices quieter as Max and Sarah were ushered into a well-appointed office on the top floor. Sarah steeled herself to meet the solicitor again, and was surprised to be met by a younger version of Mr. Payne.

  “Nathan Payne at your service, Miss Standish. My father had to retire due to his health earlier this year.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “However, I am well acquainted with your father’s affairs,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “May I say how relieved I am that the rumors concerning your demise are unfounded?”

  She stared at him in shock. “My demise?”

  He nodded. “Obviously a scurrilous rumor.”

  “Of course.” She took the seat he indicated before a large desk, wondering at her uncle’s audacity. She could only think it must be he who would start such a rumor. Max hung back and she appreciated his allowing her to handle her own affairs. “Has there been any more news concerning my father?”

  Mr. Payne shook his head in reply. “I’m afraid not, Miss. My father even dispatched a clerk to France to gather details after your disappearance, but the clerk was unfortunately lost in a shipping accident while returning.”

  “Lost at sea? And I suppose he hadn’t sent any letters back.”

  “Not that I was aware of.”

  “I see.” Now what? “I suppose I’ll have to go to France myself.”

  That got the solicitor’s attention. “Alone, Miss? I’m not sure that would be safe.”

  “She would not be going alone.” Sarah felt Max’s approach and smiled at the solicitor.

  “And who mig
ht you be, sir?”

  “You do not recognize me?”

  Max was stalling and Sarah nearly laughed at the comical expression on Mr. Payne’s face as he studied Max.

  “I apologize for my fiancé’s manners, Mr. Payne. We have not made our engagement public just yet due to his father’s ill health.”

  “Lord Royden,” he exclaimed. “Yes, of course. I’d heard the earl was ill.” He turned back to Sarah. “Forgive my inquisitiveness, but wasn’t it your wedding to Lord Royden that you disappeared from two years ago?”

  Sarah affected a sigh, Max’s proximity giving her courage to carry out the plan she’d conceived in the carriage on the way over. “Yes, and I’m sure you will understand if I ask you to keep what I’m about to tell you in the strictest confidence.”

  He sat up straighter in his chair. “Of course.”

  “You do know that Lord Royden has an identical twin, do you not?”

  “I have to admit that I wasn’t aware.”

  She nodded sympathetically. “I don’t think many are aware, but that is precisely why I could not go through with the wedding. His twin showed up at the church and I did not want to marry the wrong man.” She leaned forward as if conveying a secret. “My uncle insisted that I was being difficult, but I could tell them apart, you see. Wouldn’t you be able to tell the person you loved apart from even an identical twin?”

  Mr. Payne’s cheeks reddened. “Ah, uh, yes, I suppose I would.”

  She gifted him with a bright smile. He blinked to cover his confusion. “Then you understand. I could not possibly go through with the wedding. I might have ended up married to the wrong man.”

  Max laid a hand on her shoulder as she straightened. A warm sensation spread from his fingers to her skin and it took all her willpower not to shiver.

  “I do understand.” Mr. Payne nodded. “After all, if you had married the wrong twin, you would not have married the future earl. Yes, it does make perfect sense now. Will you be contacting the baron concerning your impending marriage?”

  Sarah hesitated. She didn’t want to alert her uncle to her presence in London just yet. “I may,” she hedged. “But I would appreciate it if you allowed me to do so.”