An Unexpected Title (Suspicious Circumstance Book 1)

by Jackie Williams

  If the Earl of Claiborne thought Ash wanted an entanglement with another woman any time soon, regardless of age or standing, the man had another think coming. Women were clearly too capricious and far too easily led. Ash didn’t think his heart, or his pride, would ever recover from the rejection. He refused to allow himself to become emotionally involved ever again.

  Excuses had been about to fall from his lips; his aversion to the idea, the impropriety of an unmarried woman living in the house, the impossibility of the situation, the gossip; but when the man’s countess took the locket containing the miniature from her reticule and passed it to him, his words had dried on his tongue. Nothing could have prepared him for the jolt of desire that ripped through him at that first sight of the ravishing and surprisingly young beauty.

  Rich, dark hair falling gently on pale shoulders. A glowing, healthy complexion. Questioning emerald eyes that followed him even from the tiny image. The hint of luscious cleavage not quite hidden by the lace on her white frock. He had immediately assumed that the picture was old, but Richard Derwent had smiled and assured Ash they had it commissioned only the year before while the young woman was at home, holidaying with friends from her finishing school.

  It had taken Ash only a few seconds to realize that the situation had become infinitely worse. He recalled the ensuing conversation with alarming clarity while his heart thudded dully at the thought of what might be coming next.

  “You ask me to look after the girl. Do you expect me to become her guardian? Surely you can see the difficulties. She is clearly of age and would require a live in chaperone. I know no one suitable to remain with her until she marries. Given that you say the hall is in ruins, that might be impossible if there is not enough money for a tempting dowry. And you know what small towns are like. The rumour mills turn hourly more than daily. Gossip would ruin her chances of finding a good and decent husband. Is there no aunt or other relative she can go to?” He didn’t know why he was making so many arguments. Even with her parents facing him, simply staring at the picture of the lovely young woman had his blood pounding through his veins. Most of it pooling where it shouldn’t! He had never felt desire like it in his life.

  The earl clearly hadn’t noticed his heir’s shockingly ill-timed discomfort and simply shook his head as he answered Ash’s question.

  “No, there is no one. My wife and I are both only children and so were our parents. My great, great grandfather and yours were brothers, but they argued over something family history has long forgot, and apparently never spoke to one another again. However, the family line, though tenuous, is still intact and, with your father already dead and there being no other male heirs on my side, you will inherit Claiborne. If there had been anyone closer, we would not be having this conversation.”

  Ash ran his fingers through his already ruffled hair before looking back at the earl. His heart thumped hard inside his chest. An inheritance of any kind was most unexpected. His father certainly hadn’t mentioned the possibility before he died, but after deliberating the distance in the relationship, perhaps he assumed that a male heir would be born in the interim and not have considered the succession at all. Claiborne! It sounded almost exotic as the name rolled off his tongue. Could it be true? Was he really the heir to an estate? Ash’s own home was but a small apartment above his office near the docks. All his wealth was invested in his three ships and whatever cargo they happened to be carrying. But an estate! Land! Possibilities leapt at him though he kept them and his excitement in check.

  “So what do you expect me to do?” Not wishing an early death upon the man in front of him, he hesitated to celebrate his possible good fortune until he had heard everything.

  The earl glanced at his wife before continuing.

  “You must marry our daughter. She is beautiful both inside and out. You would not regret your decision.”

  Ash pressed his lips together for a moment. The earl’s words were not entirely surprising, but with the thought of Jane’s betrayal still leaving its scar on his heart, they were not welcome either.

  “How do you know that my heart is not already engaged elsewhere, or that I might be about to be married.” He recalled the widespread news of the Duke of Kent’s betrothal and subsequent marriage to Miss Jane Fairbanks. Did Richard Derwent know of Ash’s previous involvement with the bride? Would it affect his current position?

  The old earl’s mouth had twitched at the corner.

  “Do you think I haven’t checked? I am scarcely likely to marry off my beloved daughter to someone with a less than sterling reputation, or who already has a fiancée. My man has been following you for weeks and researching your past. You have been single since your fiancée spurned you for Kirkdale six months ago. You are solvent. You neither gamble recklessly, drink to excess, or womanize. You appear to work hard, keep sensible hours and you never thrash your horse. I can think of many a worse fate for my daughter than to marry you.”

  Ash hadn’t known whether to be furious at being followed unknowingly for weeks, or to feel stupid for not having noticed anyone prying into his private affairs. He had been about to voice his disapproval of the earl’s actions when the man’s wife reached out a trembling hand and touched the tips of her fingers to the miniature once again. She smiled lovingly at the picture before raising her eyes to his.

  “Mr. Derwent, please listen before you refuse us. We were blessed when we eventually had our daughter. Madeleine is a truly lovely young woman. She has her own mind and interests galore. She is a little unconventional I’ll grant you and some would call her spoiled, but she is our only child and she has a good heart. I know that you will not be unhappy with her.”

  “Unconventional?” Alarm shot through him as he glanced at the miniature once again. What was hidden behind that hint of a smile and those jewel like eyes? Was there something wrong with the woman? Did she have three legs, a pea for a brain, perhaps a penchant for pickled eggs and beetroot for supper? He suppressed the shudder that rippled through him at the thought of pickled eggs being served to him every evening for the rest of his life, and breathed a sigh of relief when the Countess shook her head quickly.

  “I don’t mean to make her sound anything less than you would expect from the daughter of an earl and his countess, but she is a lot more than a simple ornament to society. She is not one for balls or musicales. She loves riding, being out in the countryside. And she cannot stop herself from helping others. People and animals. Her thoughtfulness knows no bounds; from rescuing abandoned kittens to teaching the staff to read and write. While she dresses well, she barely cares about the fashions, or the latest bland en dit. She prefers being practical and learning of the interesting subjects the library has to offer. She speaks several languages and enjoys discovering new places and things. If letting her pursue these interests makes her unconventional and spoiled then blame us, not her. I cannot bear the thought of such a free spirit being stifled by convention, by a man only interested in himself. Please, Mr. Derwent. There is no one as eligible or as well placed as yourself. She loves her home. Would you see her thrown out of it? Many a marriage has been built on less. I want to know she will be safe and happy. There is not much time left for me, for us.” The woman’s chest heaved with the exertion of her long statement and she leaned against her husband.

  For the first time Ash noticed the pain registering in the creases about the woman’s eyes, the way the earl rubbed his temples as though his head ached more than he could stand. This couple were ill. How long they had, he did not know, but still he hesitated to give a promise he might be unable to keep.

  “But you say that she is still at finishing school. I can hardly marry a school girl.” She certainly doesn’t look like a school girl in that picture. He snapped the miniature in the locket shut, damped down his desire once again and regarded his guests.

  The earl drew in a long, sorrowful breath. He clasped his wife’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

  “Madeleine is
almost seventeen and while of an age to marry, we are not ready to see her wed quite yet. My wife might not have long left on this world, but my health is not quite as fragile. There are a few years in me still. We would simply like your agreement to consider the arrangement. It would ease my wife’s mind greatly.”

  Ash nodded slowly in understanding.

  “But what does your daughter have to say about this bargain? Surely she has her own opinions if she is as independent as you say.” The girl would probably want to marry for love and Ash was having none of that. Love was firmly off his agenda.

  Richard Derwent’s jaw wobbled.

  “I confess that we have not discussed it with her, but though she appears headstrong she is a good and sensible girl. She will understand the reasoning behind our choice for her and be happy with anything we arrange.”

  Ash wasn’t so sure this girl was as independent as her parents would have him believe. He didn’t like the thought of a woman with no mind of her own however much her appearance affected him. He tried to dissuade them once more.

  “But I am in shipping. I don’t have the time or the funds to maintain an estate. When and if I eventually inherit the place, I won’t have the money to repair it. Your daughter might well end up living in poverty anyway.”

  The earl shook his head while the look in his eyes hardened.

  “There is no if about it. I will not take another wife before I die. Make no mistake. You will inherit Claiborne. There is a small amount of money set aside for the house’s upkeep, but I wish you to marry my daughter. I want her to be able to remain in her own home, ruin or not. I have drawn up my will accordingly. Obviously I can do nothing about the entailment, but I can do something about my personal wealth, such as it is. My daughter has a substantial dowry. Enough to take care of much of the house should that be what you wish to spend it on. It will be released on her marriage to the person of my choice. You are that choice.” He stopped and pinned Ash with a hard gaze. There was clearly no swaying the man. Derwent carried on. “If you will not marry her, then the money goes to a charity for disabled soldiers. God knows there are enough of them. You will become the owner of a crumbling ruin. If my daughter refuses to marry you, she loses all but the clothes she stands in. It is in both of your interests to agree to the arrangement.”

  Ash stood quickly. Did the man think him so shallow that he would marry simply for money? His chest suddenly tightened. Jane had. The Duke of Kent’s deep pockets had lured her in and she had taken the bait so easily. Perhaps it wasn’t that unusual, but to threaten to leave your own daughter destitute... The man must think he knew Ash well enough that he wouldn’t let that happen. The image of the young beauty wearing rags and begging for a crust from the gutter clouded every thought.

  And then the image of something a lot worse flared. The white frock was not only soiled but ripped, that tempting hint of luscious cleavage openly on display. A smile that didn’t reach her now dull emerald eyes as she held out her hand to a man. A man with nothing but lust in his eyes.

  Sweat broke out on Ash’s brow. Dear Lord! She might end up on the streets hawking the only thing that might make her some money. Herself. Rage boiled in his guts. While he knew that there were brothels aplenty and women willing to sell their bodies to a needy man, no woman should be forced into such a career for fear of starvation or simply a bed for the night. Her father was right. Ash would never willingly let a woman bear that fate. He frowned down at the old earl, realizing that he had been backed into a corner. One that he might not easily escape.

  “You have researched me well, but while you present a cunning bargain, you presume too much. I’ll not marry her if she is unwilling. If we are incompatible in any way or if she has her own objections, I will not bind her to me. Claiborne can fall down and rot before I do such a thing.”

  The earl’s features softened and a half smile lit his lips.

  “Then you will be responsible for the downfall of not only the house and my daughter, but also of the ten or more people who live and work at the house. While I admire your principals, I know you take pride in the ships that you own. Think what you could do with several more. It is entirely possible if you take control of Claiborne and make it successful once again. You could add to your line, make the estate what it should be. You would be a man of rank and standing, welcomed into any social sphere,” he encouraged.

  Ash hesitated again. His small shipping line was already flourishing, but becoming an earl and gaining influence and position certainly wouldn’t hurt. He paced around the room while the Earl of Claiborne and his wife watched him. At the woman’s exhausted sigh, Ash stopped and leaned over the desk.

  “I know what you are doing. You mean to blackmail me over this. But I can see that I will have responsibilities regardless of the decision I make.” He took a deep breath. “Perhaps you should know that after my experience with Jane Fairbanks I vowed to never enter any kind of relationship ever again. There is always my younger brother to leave Claiborne to after me, but he is already wed and I understand your worries about your daughter.” He took a few deep breaths. “A bargain then.” He held up his hand as Richard Derwent began to smile. “I’ll marry her, but only if we are compatible. I will not destroy either hers or my own chances of happiness for the sake of a title and a crumbling ruin. If you will agree to leaving her a small sum, enough to keep a roof over her head if our relationship comes to nothing, then I will agree to support her until such time as she finds herself a worthy husband or place of employ. I can do no more than that.”

  Richard Derwent glanced at his wife.

  “Does this settle your mind, my dear? I think it is as much as we can ask, and this way Madeleine will not be alone in the world no matter what happens to us.”

  Eloise Derwent studied the younger man for a few seconds. She noticed his hand thrust in his coat pocket. Her eyelids flickered and a smile came to her lips. She nodded, content at last. The miniature had disappeared from the table.

  Three years later, Ash’s fingertips brushed the gold frame in his pocket as he neared the house. If the likeness were a true one, something he still doubted, would she still look as alluring, as fresh? Or would she have aged badly. Not that looks were everything. He only had to see his own reflection to know that.

  He had never regarded himself as handsome. His jaw too square and his face too angular. But women apparently found him reasonably attractive. Though that might have been something to do with his increasing wealth and five, successful ships more than his looks.

  He was not a small man. In fact he was considerably taller than average, his shoulders broader too. His tailor often mentioned that he was fortunate not to need his jackets padded. However, being tall and broad was not always an advantage. Especially not when invited to a ball. He no longer danced. Experience had taught him that men of his size were not appreciated on the dance floor. His long-legged steps always upset the pattern of the square. And he had discovered that ladies didn’t like to leave the dance floor damp with perspiration after they had tried, and failed, to keep up with his enthusiastic pace. A pace which, though completely normal to him, required them to take two steps to his one. Many a partner had left the floor with an abnormally flushed face and none pretended to want a second dance. Word spread quickly about a ballroom. Don’t dance with Derwent if you want to remain sweet smelling and inviting to the next man on your card. Debutants hid behind their mother’s skirts and quickly drawn fans made an effective barrier to any further involvement with his unfortunate partners.

  Not that he wanted any further involvement with any he had so far met, but in the three years since hearing of his inheritance, something had shifted within him. His brother’s son was a delight. The apple of his father’s indulgent eye. Seeing August so happy and content gave Ash a twinge of envy. Made him wonder about his own decisions in life. Could Ash carry on the family line even if he didn’t love his wife? He thought of the picture in his pocket. His body heated instantly, p
roving that love wasn’t a necessary ingredient in performing the act, but did that make it right when children were involved? Marriage might make a family possible but indifference between parents might render it an unhappy one. He looked along the drive. Not normally a nervous man, his stomach surprised him by squirming uncomfortably. Was he walking into more than he had bargained for?

  As if reading his mind, Titan, his Goliath of a horse, shook his head and took a couple of quick, nervous sidesteps before trotting on again. Ash slid a calming hand down the horse’s neck.

  “Don’t worry, old fellow. No need to be shy. It is not you who is putting his head into a parson’s noose.” His voice faded as he looked towards the vast house. Some kind of commotion was occurring. People ran this way and that, buzzing around a central spot. The crowd suddenly parted and Ash could see someone pointing and apparently issuing orders from their position on a straight backed chair standing outside the front door. Another man standing beside the first and wearing a well fitting dark coat, bobbed from one foot to the other, agitation written plain on his face. A middle aged woman suddenly let out a cry as she noticed their visitor and came rushing down the steps towards him, skirts and aprons flapping in the breeze. Ash dismounted to greet her.

  “Oh my Lord. We are all of a pother! A dreadful morning, to be sure. I cannot even begin to wonder how it has happened.” She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight glowing behind his head before blinking in surprise when she had to look even higher to meet his eyes. She bobbed him a quick curtsey as she carried on speaking. “The shock, you understand. I am afraid that your horse will have to remain tied here for the moment what with young Aiden being so occupied. None of us have a clue as to where the stable master is. And with Mr. Flack being injured...”

  Ash raised his hand to stop the woman as he tried to make sense of the apparently never-ending tirade.