Lord Somerton’s Heir

by Alison Stuart

  ‘How she must have laughed at me,’ Isabel said, the tears beginning again.

  ‘It was not like that, Isabel. He confided in her probably because —’

  ‘He couldn’t confide in me? Sebastian I am such a fool. I knew he only married me for my dowry. I hadn’t realised it was also for the veneer of respectability it gave him. I was just a part of that same picture.’

  Sebastian took her chin between his fingers and tilted her face up to look at him. His thumb gently stroked her tear stained cheek.

  ‘Isabel, I am no apologist for Anthony, but you are the one who was so quick to tell me to put the past behind me. I can only give you the same counsel. There will be someone, somewhere, who will care for you the way you should be loved.’

  She looked into his brown eyes and saw something she had never seen before. Compassion, yes, but something else — desire. All she needed to do would be to let her reserve go, close her eyes and feel his lips on hers. The thought sent a warm rush flooding through her and her betraying body softened, leaning in toward him. He could kiss her…she could kiss him. Her lips parted, her eyes closed and his breath caressed her cheek, warm and sweet.

  If she just let this happen, it would change everything. Her plans, the school… The school!

  She pushed him away and jumped to her feet. Caught off balance, Sebastian fell backwards. He lay on his back and to her surprise he began to laugh.

  ‘I deserved that. Please forgive me, Isabel. I would not risk your friendship for anything.’

  He held out his hand and she grasped it, not that he needed any assistance in rising. He rose smoothly to his feet as she said in a voice, husky with her confused emotions, ‘Nothing happened, Lord Somerton.’

  For a long moment they stood looking at each other. He swallowed and looked down at their still clasped hands. His fingers relaxed their grip and he ran the hand through his hair.

  She handed him back his soggy handkerchief. ‘I am grateful for the loan of your handkerchief.’

  He cleared his throat.

  ‘I am keeping you from your home, Isabel. Let me walk you back.’

  ‘I can make my own way…’

  He crooked his arm. ‘Please, I insist…’

  She looked up into his face, seeing the contrition in his eyes. Once again, that warm rush seeped through her bones and she bit her lip and took a deep breath. She could not, would not, allow these feelings. Not again…not ever.

  ‘No, thank you, Lord Somerton,’ she said and, turning, she hurried away, before he saw the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

  ***

  Sebastian watched her go, her proud, stiff back disappearing around a hedge.

  ‘Damn it!’ He swore and hit his leg with his hat.

  What was it about her that aroused feelings in him that he had not felt since…since Inez.

  He needed to walk off his frustration and anger with himself so he turned and strode along the path leading around the lake, following it up to the summer pavilion in the trees. It was a pretty little folly, built of once white marble in the style of a circular Roman temple. A statue of Diana frolicked in its centre and marble benches lined the sides.

  He sat down on the steps and looked down to the house, the view obscured by the foliage. Thinking about improving the view distracted him from thinking about Isabel. In a tree nearby, a cuckoo called and a soft breeze brought the scent of the new mown hay drifting in.

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ he said aloud.

  The revelation that Anthony had confided his secret in Isabel only gave her motive to have killed her husband, but if she had killed him for that reason, why would she have confided her knowledge?

  He gave a heavy sigh. ‘What was I thinking…?’

  He had behaved like a boor, like the commoner he was. He had compromised the one person whose good opinion he valued most. What had been done could not be undone. He had to face Isabel again, see the reproach in her eyes.

  He had never wanted to kiss a woman so badly in his life but her good opinion anchored him to his new life. More than that, it also represented a thread of hope that he could love again — that he was learning to love again.

  ‘You fool!’ he said aloud, looking up at the few wispy clouds in the blue sky.

  Anthony had much to answer for and the damage he had done to his innocent young wife could never be forgiven, but could it be mended? Did he dare risk his own heart again to woo and win Isabel? It would have to be done slowly. He had seen the fear in her eyes, like a frightened deer that realises the man with the gun is a foe not a friend but, before that, he had seen something else. Yearning? Desire?

  There was no impediment to any match between them. They were both widowed, they were both of the same class, whatever that meant. But they were both damaged.

  The cuckoo in the trees called again.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said to the unseen bird. ‘I think it is possible, but I must tread carefully.’

  Chapter 19

  Not wanting to bother Isabel again, Sebastian walked back to the big house, and dispatched Peter Thompson to collect the horse.

  Entering his bedchamber, he found Connie sitting in his favourite chair reading a report from Bragge that he had brought upstairs to read at his leisure. She looked up and, from her blotchy face, he guessed she had been crying.

  ‘Connie?’ He pulled the little package from his jacket. ‘I have your necklace. The clasp broke, so I will send it in to the jeweller in Lincoln to have it repaired.’

  ‘Oh, Bas.’ She took the package from him and her lower lip began to tremble.

  A second weeping woman in one day was a bit much, Sebastian thought, remembering his kerchief was already sodden from Isabel.

  He sat down on the footstool and took her hands between his. ‘Now, now, what’s the trouble?’

  Connie sniffed.

  ‘I had a terrible fight with Fanny,’ she said. ‘I found her in my bedchamber. She had my earrings, Bas!’

  ‘What did she say?’

  Connie’s nostrils flared. ‘She said she was looking for the gloves she lent me last night and happened to see the earrings and was just having a look at them.’

  Sebastian sensed an unspoken ‘but’ so he raised an eyebrow, which was all the encouragement Connie needed to continue.

  ‘But I had given her the gloves back and I had made sure the earrings were back in their box. I’d already lost the necklace. I didn’t want to lose the earrings too.’

  ‘Do you want me to speak to her?’

  The anger had begun to die in Connie’s eyes. She had never been a girl to hold a grudge for long. ‘No. I think I said everything that needed to be said, but she called me “a common little piece who thought, just because my brother had come into a title, I could act like lady of the manor”.’

  Sebastian rose to his feet. ‘Only one common little piece in this household and that’s Fanny,’ he said darkly. ‘And when Isabel retires to the dower house then yes, you, as my sister, take her place — as rightful lady of the manor.’

  Connie stood up and threw her arms around him. ‘You are the best of brothers, Bas, but leave Fanny alone. I slapped her good and hard, as only a common little piece can.’

  Laughter rose in his chest and he squeezed his sister. ‘They’ll both be gone soon, Connie. I promise.’

  Connie gave one last sniff and let her brother go. She looked around the room.

  ‘This is a bit florid for your taste, Bas.’

  ‘I thought you might like to have a go at redecorating it, but I don’t have the money to spare for it at the moment.’

  ‘Are things dire?’ She picked up the report she had been reading.

  ‘Not in the sense that you and I would understand them, Connie, but dear Anthony seemed to leak money from every pore.’

  ‘Do you mean the regular payments of one hundred pounds a month?’

  Sebastian nodded. ‘Bragge can’t account for them. It seemed to be a private p
ayment Anthony made outside of the usual payments.’

  ‘They started in March last year. Maybe he was being blackmailed?’ Connie suggested.

  Sebastian stared at her. ‘What do you read?’

  ‘Evil novels, brother.’

  Sebastian looked back at the paper. ‘And yet…’ He trailed off. Blackmail would explain the payments. Ridiculous! He set the report down again.

  ‘Isabel said at breakfast that she is hoping to move into the dower house in the next day or so,’ Connie said.

  ‘I know. I just paid a call.’

  ‘Would you be violently opposed to me helping her with the school?’

  He ran a hand through his hair. ‘She is not still planning to open a school in the dower house?’

  ‘She told me she was.’

  ‘That damned woman! I told her I would make good her jointure.’

  ‘Maybe she doesn’t want you to make good her jointure. Maybe she would prefer to be independent.’

  Sebastian stared at his sister. ‘You don’t understand,’ he began.

  Connie grinned. She crossed to her brother and pushed him lightly in the chest. ‘You like her, don’t you? I knew it!’

  Sebastian opened his mouth to protest but ended up subsiding on to the stool. He buried his head in his hands. ‘Not a word, Connie. I’ve already made a prize idiot of myself with her once. I’ll not do it again.’

  ‘Why not? I don’t know who Inez was but she has been dead a long time. Isabel is lovely and lonely. I fail to see where the problem lies.’

  ‘There’s no problem, Connie. Just…damn it…she’s still in mourning and we’ve only known each other a short time.’ He held up a warning finger. ‘You’re interfering in something you have no business in.’

  Connie merely smiled. ‘I am interfering because I can clearly see two stubborn people I love who are incapable of admitting how they feel about each other.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve got eyes in my head, Bas, and I would wager my necklace that she feels the same way about you.’

  Sebastian looked away, unable to meet his sister’s appraising gaze.

  ‘She has her own plans. You’re right, she desperately wants to be independent. I have no right to interfere in her life.’

  ‘Hmm,’ was all the answer his sister gave him.

  ‘What should I do?’ he asked, looking up at her.

  ‘I think,’ Connie said slowly, ‘that you better say something soon or you will lose her to the school and Manchester.’

  She crossed to the door and opened it. Before leaving, she turned and looked back at him with a smile. ‘There’s the gong. I will see you at dinner, Bas.’

  ***

  Freddy folded himself into the chair across from Sebastian, crossed his legs and steepled his fingers.

  ‘I gather our dear sisters had something of a contretemps this morning,’ he said.

  Sebastian said nothing for a long moment. ‘What of it?’

  Freddy rolled his eyes. ‘The female of the species is an unpredictable beast.’

  ‘Well, I would thank your sister to mind her own business in future.’

  Freddy held up a placatory hand. ‘Oh, bien sur, my dear cousin. I have spoken most firmly with her and told her she is to apologise forthwith to Constance. We can’t have these petty domestic squabbles disturbing our peace, not with the ball only a few days away. I am sure by tomorrow morning all will be forgiven and forgotten.’

  Sebastian held his peace. Knowing his sister, Connie may well forgive but she would be unlikely to forget.

  ‘On another matter, dear cousin,’ Freddy continued, ‘I am conscious that dear Fan and I have overstayed our welcome. I am happy to advise that I have an expectation of good fortune in the weeks to come.’

  ‘May I ask from where?’

  Freddy tapped his nose. ‘Ah, now dear cuz, that would be telling. However, that by itself may not suffice and you have mentioned a settlement from Anthony’s estate. Are you able to clarify that position any further?’

  As he was still waiting on Bragge’s report on the Lynchs, Sebastian said with absolute honesty, ‘I am awaiting a report from my man of business, Lynch. When I am in receipt of that I will be only too pleased to discuss your future.’

  Freddy rose to his feet. ‘That is excellent news. Are you looking forward to the ball?’

  Sebastian glanced at his desk where a stack of bills for the costs of this extravagance grew by the day. ‘I will be pleased when it is over, Lynch.’

  Freddy smiled. ‘Indeed, I am sure we all will, but I promise you a night to remember, dear cousin, a night to remember.’

  As the door closed behind Freddy, Sebastian stared into the fireplace.

  Why had Fanny been nosing around in Connie’s bedroom? Only one reason came to mind and he summoned the housekeeper.

  ‘Do sit, Mrs Fletcher.’ Sebastian gestured at the chair so recently vacated by Freddy.

  She coloured. ‘Oh, sir, I never…’

  ‘Please,’ Sebastian repeated.

  She complied and sat as rigid as a poker with her hands clasped in her lap. ‘Am I in trouble, sir? Has something displeased you?’

  Sebastian stared at her. ‘Good God, no, Mrs Fletcher. Please take your ease. I wanted to ask you if you have been aware of any petty pilfering going on in the house?’

  Her hand flew to the brooch at her neck. ‘Oh dear, what have you heard?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s just a question. You’re not in trouble, Mrs Fletcher.’

  She glanced at the fire. ‘Well, of course everyone blamed young Amy Thompson,’ she began.

  Sebastian had not been expecting this response. He leaned forward. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Small things went missing. Small but valuable. A silver spoon here, one of his lordship’s tie pins. Little things, easily missed.’

  ‘And why was Amy Thompson blamed?’

  ‘She worked in the house as a parlour maid. Had access to all the rooms where things had gone missing.’ Mrs Fletcher twisted her hands. ‘She started buying herself new things. Just little pretties, mind. Nothing fancy, but not the sort of thing a parlour maid would be able to afford. His lordship instructed me to find the culprit and, naturally, the finger of suspicion pointed at Amy. She denied it, of course, became quite distraught and, a few days later, she went and took her own life. So sad.’

  ‘Was she the culprit?’

  Mrs Fletcher gave a small shake of her head. ‘I don’t believe so, sir. I went through all her things myself and there was no evidence of pilfering. I’ve come across thieves in my other positions and it’s my experience that they like to keep little souvenirs. A few months after his lordship’s death, it began again. Why only last week, two little silver saltcellars disappeared. We’ve searched high and low for them so, to answer your question, the thief was not Amy Thompson.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Fletcher.’

  Sebastian sat back in his chair and the woman stood.

  ‘Was there anything else, sir?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, you must be very busy with this ball.’

  She smiled. ‘Oh, I am sir, but it will be such fun to see the house come to life again. It’s been a sad place for too long.’

  After she had left, Sebastian stared at the ceiling. If he was right then there was a good chance the silver saltcellars were still in the custody of the thief and he had a fair idea who the thief may be. Never mind. It could wait until after the ball.

  Everything would change once the wretched ball was out of the way.

  Chapter 20

  Isabel raised her hand to knock on the door to Lord Somerton’s bedchamber. She could hear the low growl of Sebastian’s voice from within, interspersed with encouraging noises from both Bennet and Pierce.

  As she opened the door, she beheld Sebastian standing in the middle of the carpet, looking impeccable from the carefully coiffed hair on his head to the polish on his dancing shoes while Pierce fussed arou
nd him. She took a deep breath and thought of the Sebastian she knew with his hair disarrayed, his neckcloth untied and those old boots. While he would turn heads and set a few hearts aflutter tonight, of the two, she infinitely preferred the latter.

  He glanced at her and managed a watery smile. ‘Do I pass?’

  She smiled in response. ‘You look every inch a Somerton.’

  Pierce added a diamond pin to the neckcloth and stood back, a pleased smirk on his face.

  ‘Very fine, my lord. Don’t you agree, Mr Bennet?’

  Mr Bennet concurred and Isabel cast him an amused glance. Like his master, he appeared to be falling into the ways of the house with ease and dressed and emulated Pierce in every way.

  ‘Are you ready? Your guests are assembled,’ Isabel said.

  Sebastian took a deep breath, cut short by the constricting neck cloth, which nearly grazed his ear.

  ‘I feel worse than I did before Waterloo,’ he said.

  ‘Mercifully, we have not invited the French infantry tonight,’ Isabel said.

  He held out his arm and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. It had begun to feel a comfortable and natural act between them.

  ‘You look very lovely tonight, Isabel,’ he paused, ‘if I may make so bold.’

  Warmth flooded her cheeks. She had taken a great deal of trouble with her wardrobe. Conscious she was still officially in mourning, she had dressed in a new gown of black satin trimmed with jet beads. Lucy had worked hard on her hair, twisting it into a complicated knot and enhancing it with a turban of the same black satin, trimmed with a curling black feather.

  ‘Thank you, my lord. I have no doubt my presence will scandalise a few of the more conservative of our neighbours.’

  ‘Anthony has been dead nearly a year. Time to start living again,’ Sebastian said.

  She looked up at him, conscious of his gaze on her face. The brown eyes, softened by the shadows, filled her with a confidence she hadn’t felt in years. It felt as if something momentous would happen tonight.

  At the head of the stairs, Sebastian hesitated, pulling back into the shadows at the sound of the gathering crowd in the brightly lit hall below. Beyond, from the ballroom, came the sound of bright chatter and music. Beads of sweat dappled his brow.