“And what she wanted was?”
“The next earl to be Maximilian, after her grandfather. We argued about it often before you were born.” Caesar pushed his head into the earl’s lap and received a scratch behind the ears for his efforts. “In truth I wouldn’t have cared except that the King had just refused what I considered to be an eminently reasonable request regarding some property I wanted, so I was very much put out. When she wanted to name my heir after her grandfather, I put my foot down a bit too hard. It’s also the reason you were never called by your full first names. I refused to even say the name.” He looked up at Max, a sad smile on his face. “We were both so young and immature. If we had waited to marry for another few years, we might have matured. Or, perhaps we would have realized how unsuited we were and tried to get out of the contract.”
Max noticed that he didn’t seem to blame their mother. Was he trying to make excuses for Max’s benefit? Max hoped not. Now that he was beginning to understand what had happened, he wasn’t certain anyone could make enough excuses for what his mother had done.
“Perhaps, if I hadn’t stayed away for such long periods of time—in London for Parliament, in Kent for hunting. Anywhere but here.”
“David and I used to think the two of you hated each other. You seemed to avoid being together and, of course, we were aware of the fights.”
The sigh that emerged was nothing short of mournful. “She was everything I thought I wanted in a countess. Beautiful. Gracious. Poised. Accomplished. She was also everything I disliked most in a woman. Temperamental. Selfish. Devious. Cruel. Unfortunately, I never saw that side of her until after we were married. And, yes, that person I loathed. That person I escaped from as often as possible, because that person’s mercurial moods made living at home unbearable. And that was the person who orchestrated the switch.” He sighed again. “I thought little of the fact that the nursery staff seemed to be constantly changing. By the time you were five, none of the servants assigned to the nursery had been there during your first year. Not even your old nurse. She was pensioned off by the time you were three.”
Max glanced across the room, his gaze falling on Caesar dozing in a patch of sunlight. The wolfhound’s wiry gray coat gleamed. “Except when we heard you fighting, David and I never saw that side of her. She was nearly the perfect mother to the two of us. Until today, I had fond memories of the time she spent with us.”
His father nodded slowly. “Well, that’s something.”
Max chose not to tell his father about his mother’s last words to him and David. It wouldn’t do to make matters worse when they were just being sorted out.
The earl finished off his brandy and set the glass down. The silence between them held no lingering resentment. Then the earl spoke again. “I wonder if David knows.” Leaning forward, he put his elbows on the table and looked at Max. “He’s been acting strangely for the past few months.”
“How?” The question tumbled out of its own accord.
“Whenever I asked about you, he always had a ready excuse. At first he would say that you were busy, either in Town or at Templeton. I wondered if he was trying to hide some reprehensible conduct on your part.”
“I don’t know why he’d try to hide the fact that I was in Scotland for a while visiting a friend.” A twinge of guilt tugged at his conscience over the half-truth.
His father grinned. “Don’t misunderstand, Max. I appreciated all the gifts and notes I received from you, but I would have preferred your presence. I said so often enough in my letters.”
This was the second time his father had referred to letters Max never received. If David knew about the switch, was that why he had Max leave the country? So he could usurp his identity. To what end?
“Then I had my first spell,” his father interrupted his musings again. “Clayborne says it’s just that my heart isn’t as strong as it used to be. He says I need to realize that I can’t ride the estate and do the same amount of physical labor I used to do.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“Not completely. I know I’m getting older and I can’t do much of what I used to do, but I can’t shake the feeling that these spells are more than what they seem.”
Max wondered if his father’s thoughts were running along the same line as his own. “Do you think you’re being poisoned somehow?”
“The thought has crossed my mind, but there is no pattern to it at all. Although they have increased recently.”
Max sat back in his chair. “None at all? What happened just before the last attack?”
“Nothing unusual. I had developed a rash on my arm a few days before and put some of my special salve on it.” His father glanced over at Caesar then turned back to Max. “Before you wonder, there wasn’t anything unusual about the rash. I’ve had them appear on and off over my entire lifetime and have been using the same stuff on it since I was a boy. Mrs. Wainwright makes it up for me, but this last batch I made myself, so I know what’s in it.”
Max released a slow breath. He’d never known his father suffered from a recurring rash, but he couldn’t fault the salve if his father made it himself. He smiled as he pictured his father sitting in the housekeeper’s stillroom mixing herbs.
“Was David at home when it happened?”
The earl shook his head. “No, but he came as soon as he got word.”
Max was silent, listening to the sounds of the birds outside his father’s window. Considering the morning had begun rainy and overcast, it had turned into a beautiful day. He certainly hoped Sarah was enjoying the afternoon wherever she was.
“What else has happened over the past year?”
“Severs, the main trustee on the Calderbrooke trust, had his office burglarized. Nothing was taken, but all of his files were rifled through. It may have been nothing—someone looking for funds and finding none—but I have instructed him to move certain documents to our vault in the bank.”
Max nodded. “In all likelihood, a good move. What do you think the burglar might have been looking for or found?”
“I have no idea. Whoever it was may have been looking for something on another client, since he handles other trusts besides ours, but I wrote a new will recently. I should have done it right after your mother died, but I kept letting the time slip by. If I’d stuck my spoon in the wall before you came of age, you would have become a ward of the Crown. I shudder to think of the possibility.”
Max watched his father pour himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. He noted his father’s hand neither shook nor did it seem to have any difficulty holding the pitcher steady while he poured.
“About four months ago,” his father continued after taking a long swallow, “I received a disturbing letter from an old friend about your activities in Town. It was another reason why I wanted you to return home. I wanted to ask you about it, but I can see for myself that he was wrong.”
Apprehension caused a knot in his chest. “What did he say?”
His father’s face tightened with discomfort. “I will not repeat it. I burned the letter—especially after I asked David to look into it and David reported back that Whately had been mistaken.”
There was a finality in his father’s tone that told Max the subject was closed. The friend had obviously discovered something unsavory about David. Unfortunately, his father had unwittingly sent David to confront the man. Had David threatened him?
“At least the house parties you’ve been hosting at Templeton haven’t drawn comment.”
“I ha—” Max cut himself off. He wasn’t about to tell his father that he had never been to Templeton Manor. It would only cause his father to wonder where he had been. And some uncomfortable questions. Until he could tell his father everything, it was best to let his father continue to believe he’d been enjoying himself in London or Scotland for the past few years.
Leaving his father a short time later, he inquired of Sarah’s whereabouts and was told she was resting. He then ca
lled for the curricle and headed for the village. While talking with his father, he realized that the doctor might know what happened to Millie’s family. And he could find out whether people in the area knew about or blamed him for Millie’s death.
The doctor’s cottage sat at the end of a lane. Compared to the rest of the cottages in the village, his was more like a manor house with its two stories plus attics built of sturdy brick. Max was admitted by the housekeeper and shown directly into the doctor’s book-lined study. A door on the opposite side of the room stood ajar and Max thought he could hear voices.
“He’s in his surgery with a patient, but will be finished shortly, my lord.” Max started at the title, wondering if the woman mistook him for David. He declined her offer of refreshment and agreed to wait.
A few minutes after the woman left, Dr. Clayborne came through the other door, rolling down his sleeves as he entered.
“Max! Was there something else we needed to discuss?”
The doctor gestured to two chairs set before the fire.
“Not originally, but I thought to ask you some questions about the Wells family.”
“A sad story, that.” The doctor shook his head.
“How so?”
“First there was the tragedy of Millie’s death. Her mother was never the same after that. I thought once they left the area they would be fine, and George would be able to help Mabel through it all. But not so.”
“What happened?”
“He purchased his son an apprenticeship and opened another shop of his own in Caperton down in Devon. But I’m assuming Mabel never got over losing her daughter. She died two years later. George just seemed to lose any ambition after that. His son went down to Devon to help him with the shop and George took to frequenting the local pub. One night about three months ago, he didn’t come home. His son found him lying in the road. He’d been robbed and shot.”
“I’m sorry to hear all that.” Max didn’t remember Millie’s brother. He’d been younger and less interested in running about in the fields.
“So much tragedy, but young George seems to be doing well. He married the local innkeeper’s daughter.”
Max was silent. The fire crackled in the grate, its warmth reaching him. The door opened to admit the housekeeper carrying a tray.
“As you’ve been out for most of the day, I thought you might like tea a little earlier than usual,” she said to the doctor. “I brung enough for his lordship.”
She set the tray down on the table between them.
“Thank you, Letty.”
As he watched the doctor help himself from the tray, Max wondered if the “GW” in David’s book was Millie’s father, George Wells. It might be a coincidence that he died around the same time David stopped making payments to GW, but Max didn’t think so. And if he was right, David had another life to account for.
The doctor hadn’t mentioned any blame for Millie’s death, and he hadn’t noticed anyone staring at him strangely when he drove through the village. Perhaps they merely mistook him for David—Lord Royden. Whatever it was, he found himself loath to ask the doctor outright about Millie’s killer.
“I wish you’d been around when I returned from Waterloo,” he told the doctor now. “I’m sure my father meant well by engaging that doctor and nurse from London, but I would have preferred someone I knew. As it was, I could barely wait to be rid of them.”
“I wish I had been here too. As it turned out, my nephew’s condition wasn’t nearly as bad as my sister thought it was. But since I was there, I decided to take a short holiday and spend some time with her family. I don’t necessarily regret it, but I have never shaken the feeling that if I’d been here, a tragedy might have been avoided.”
Max agreed. “At the very least, we would have known of the switch that much sooner.”
Sarah was in the drawing room composing a letter at the corner writing desk when Max returned. She couldn’t suppress the leap of her heart at the sight of his broad shoulders entering the room. What was it about him that drew her? She wished she knew because then she would know why she was certain she could tell him apart from David.
“I have been trying to decide what to tell Mr. Payne,” she said in greeting. “I know I should tell him something, but I do not want my uncle to discover I’m headed for France.”
“Perhaps you should just tell him that you’ve married. Your uncle will know all is lost then—even if he discovers you’ve gone to France.”
She looked up sharply in time to see Max ease himself down onto a sofa, his injured leg stretched out before him. Concern washed over her and she left her barely started letter to join him.
“Is your leg hurting again?”
“Not really,” he replied, but she noticed he was rubbing it. As she watched his long fingers massage the muscle beneath the material of his breeches, she realized she was becoming uncomfortably warm and looked up, only to have her eyes meet his.
Heat rushed into her cheeks, heat she could feel from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d blushed so deeply.
“If Payne assumes you’ve married Lord Royden, so much the better.”
“But wouldn’t my uncle just confront your brother?” Her mouth was suddenly dry and she glanced at the porcelain clock on the mantel, wondering if it was too early for tea. It wasn’t.
“Possibly. Might not be a bad thing to happen. Perhaps David would come home to learn the truth.”
A discreet knock heralded the arrival of the tea cart. The maid wheeled it close to Max’s perch at her direction. She studied Max as the maid pushed the cart into position next to the sofa. Perhaps this was her chance to resurrect the marriage discussion. What would he think? She sighed softly. There was only one way to find out.
The maid left the room as quietly as she’d entered as Sarah took the chair beside the tray and picked up a cup and the teapot.
“I won’t lie to Mr. Payne.” She was thankful neither her voice nor her hands shook as she poured Max a cup and added the sweetener. “I might not have trusted the father, but I do trust the son.”
Max put his head back against the sofa for a moment and closed his eyes. She could almost read his thoughts. Perhaps she truly was just an obligation to him. He’d said he had nothing to offer her, and refused to consider that her dowry was large enough to support the both of them comfortably.
Had she completely misjudged his feelings? Yesterday she had been certain he cared for her. Convinced of his feelings in the wake of the scare with her uncle. Today, however, doubts intruded.
Although she spent the morning helping Annie put away her new wardrobe, her thoughts had never been far from Max. Even the delights of new dresses and gowns had not been able to completely divert her. What was he doing? Had he told his father of their discoveries in Town? How was his leg?
He opened his eyes and looked at her. For a long moment his gray eyes seemed to take her measure, assessing her. Their hands brushed when she handed him his tea and the room faded away. For the space of a heartbeat, she was aware of him so completely that she fancied she could see into his soul.
When the contact was broken, she looked down and busied herself with her own cup. A warm flush rose in her cheeks and she took a sip of her tea to cover her confusion. It was suddenly close in the room, although two of the long windows stood open. The fragrance of the tea was comforting and she breathed it in, trying to calm her nerves.
He straightened abruptly and sipped his tea, all the while watching her through eyes the color of mist. He finished the entire cup then set the cup and saucer down on the tea cart. Long nimble fingers reached out and touched her cheek in a whisper-soft caress.
“I hope you don’t regret your decision,” he murmured.
She leaned into his touch, wanting more. “I won’t,” she answered. “Will you?”
They were talking around the subject, but she was afraid to ask directly. Not wishing to seem too forward,
she had come as far as she dared. She would not push. The last thing she wanted was a husband who became so out of obligation.
Max took the cup and saucer from her and put it down beside his own. Putting two fingers beneath her chin, he lifted her face to his.
“No, but I’m not the one who might later feel as if they had been given no other choice. This is not a decision to be made lightly.”
“Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
He smiled and her heart leapt into her throat. “Not at all.” He dropped his hand and sat back, rubbing his leg as he did so. “I’m afraid I cannot get down on one knee for you,” he said slowly, “but I can ask the correct question properly.”
The disappointment she’d felt when he sat back dissipated in the heat of his smile. Her heart moved back into her chest, but now it was beating much too fast, leaving her breathless, and straining to hear his next words over the pounding in her ears.
“Miss Standish, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her heart was flipping crazily in her chest and an entire swarm of butterflies suddenly materialized in her stomach. She gripped her hands together in her lap, striving for calm. Joy overwhelmed her and she was momentarily bereft of speech.
She had no idea how long she sat and stared at him. How long she allowed herself to bask in her own private euphoria before she realized he was still watching her, waiting for her answer.
“Yes.”
At least it came out calmly, was her only thought.
Chapter Twelve
Why did she want to marry him? Max couldn’t fathom any young woman choosing him over his brother. Women were taught from the cradle that their only purpose in life was to marry the highest title and fattest purse they could find. So why would Sarah choose him over his brother?
Perhaps it truly was because she thought he did not covet her inheritance. If so, David was a fool. Yet now she would obtain the title and purse with no knowledge that she’d achieved it.
The Scarred Heir Page 16
