The Unknown Heir

by Anne Herries

  Hester closed her eyes, determined to put it all from her mind. Lying here worrying would not help her. She would spend the morning with the American heir. If he continued with his masquerade, she would ask him why he was trying to deceive her.

  Hester was ready and waiting when Jared arrived the next morning. She noticed that he had abandoned the ill-fitting clothes he had been wearing the previous day. His coat was a little shabby, but she could not doubt that it had been tailored by an expert; his boots were old, but discernibly of good quality, and his breeches fitted him well. His shoulders were broad, his body lean and strong looking, his face attractive rather than handsome. She decided that her godmother had been right—he would pay for dressing.

  ‘Well, sir, are you ready to be fitted for the outfits you will need if you are to be introduced into society?’ Her eyes challenged him, meeting his so boldly that he was momentarily startled. He could almost think that she had seen through his disguise—and yet how could she?

  ‘I am not sure that I can afford to patronise the best tailors,’ he prevaricated, knowing that he might be recognised at some of them.

  ‘You must have good hats and boots,’ Hester said. ‘Besides, Grandfather has opened an account for you at his bank. You may spend what you wish within reason. He will make you an allowance for other things once you have settled on a proper sum between you, but you must have a decent wardrobe.’

  ‘Must I?’ Jared’s eyebrows rose. What he had learned from Tyler the previous evening had put him on his mettle. If the man were to be believed, his life was in danger, and that meant he could trust no one—perhaps even this woman might be other than she seemed. ‘Well, I do need a decent hat, so perhaps we should visit the haberdasher you mentioned.’

  ‘Lock’s are not merely haberdashers,’ Hester reprimanded him with a sparkling look. ‘They are the hat makers, Mr Clinton. No one who is anyone would dream of going anywhere else.’

  ‘Indeed?’ A look of mockery came to his eyes. ‘I have plenty of good hats at home that did not come from that particular establishment.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Hester looked at the battered example he had taken off as they met. ‘If that is so, one wonders why you did not bring them with you?’

  ‘Ah…’ Jared smothered a laugh. She had him there. He had spoken too hastily. ‘Perhaps I should say that I had plenty of hats once.’

  ‘You were once in the position of being able to live decently, I believe?’ Hester said. ‘Mr Birch gave us only sketchy details, Mr Clinton—but we have been told that you lost everything gambling?’

  ‘Yes, most of what I had,’ Jared agreed, keeping a bland expression as he lied. ‘I still have a small property back home.’

  ‘Yes, well, Grandfather isn’t rich either,’ Hester told him. ‘He has some property and the land. Unfortunately, his sons and grandsons were mostly gamblers, including my father.’

  ‘Do you think it right that I should take the duke’s money for clothes?’ Jared asked, his expression giving nothing away. ‘No point in pretending to be what I ain’t—is there?’

  ‘I am not at liberty to confide my grandfather’s plans for you,’ Hester said with a frown. ‘I do know that you must be presentable if you are to succeed in the best circles in English society.’

  ‘I’m not sure I wish to succeed. In fact, I wasn’t planning to stay around long enough to meet your society friends, Miss Sheldon.’

  ‘Oh but you must,’ Hester cried. ‘If you don’t…Grandfather is relying on you, sir. Surely you want your inheritance? It is not as much as it might have been, but it is still considerable and it might—’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t for me to say.’

  ‘But you are privy to his plans, aren’t you?’

  Hester felt her cheeks becoming warm under his scrutiny. ‘It would be quite wrong of me to disclose anything he may have told me.’

  Jared sat down, crossing his long legs in front of him. He gave her a direct look. ‘I have plenty of time, Miss Sheldon.’

  ‘Really, we must go. I have taken the liberty of making an appointment for you to be fitted. It would be most rude of us to be late.’

  ‘I don’t think I should go anywhere until you tell me exactly what the old man is expecting of me.’

  Hester looked at his stubborn face and sighed inwardly. If she had harboured any doubts that he was truly the heir, they fled. She had seen that look in her stepfather’s eyes, and often in the duke himself.

  ‘It is Grandfather’s hope that you will marry to advantage. The family needs new money to restore it to its proper place in society.’

  ‘Damn the old devil!’ Jared’s eyes gleamed with sudden anger. ‘So that is why he summoned me and dragged you into this business! He wants me to marry an heiress.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose that is what he wants—what the family needs,’ Hester said reluctantly. ‘You weren’t brought up here and so you may not understand what your heritage means, but it is respect and family values—’ She stopped as she saw his expression. ‘What? Why are you so angry? It is no more than happens in many families of this kind.’

  ‘Family values?’ Jared said in an icy tone. ‘Where were they when he cut my mother out of his life? She wrote to him when I was born and afterwards. Her letters were never answered—can you imagine how much that hurt her? Do not preach to me about the family, Miss Sheldon. As far as I am concerned, I have no family—at least none in this country.’

  Hester stared at him, her face pale. ‘Then why did you come? Why did you raise our hopes? If you had no intention of helping us restore the family fortunes, why not simply tell Birch that you wished to cut the connection?’

  Jared got up. He had been wondering about that himself for the past several minutes. He went over to the window, staring out at the garden, his back rigid with anger as he considered his answer.

  ‘Curiosity, I suppose. I wondered what kind of a man could cut his daughter out of his life simply because she ran away with the man she loved.’

  ‘Grandfather loved her,’ Hester said, and there was a little sob in her voice, because she knew how badly the duke would take this disappointment. ‘I suppose his pride wouldn’t let him answer her letters, but I know he still loves her.’

  ‘Sure of that, are you?’ Jared rounded on her, his eyes dark with anger, his mouth set in a thin line. ‘What makes you such an expert? She certainly didn’t know it, if you do.’

  ‘Grandfather is proud,’ Hester defended him, her face pale, her eyes carrying an unconscious appeal. ‘Sometimes he says and does things that he doesn’t mean—but that does not make him a bad man. He has always been loving and generous to me…’ A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, trickling down her cheek. She tasted its salt, but she made no attempt to brush it away or the others that silently followed. ‘He is an old man, Mr Clinton. He doesn’t have long to live. Please, I beg you, won’t you at least humour him for a while? No one can force you to marry an heiress, but if you would just let Grandfather believe there is hope…for a while…’

  Jared was standing over her now, his eyes blazing. He was furious that she could ask such a thing of him. What right had she or any of them to ask anything of him? She had none and he was determined to punish her, to punish them all for what they had done to his mother. Hardly knowing what he did, not thinking at all, he reached out, gripping her by her arms, gazing down at her. He pulled her to her feet. Looking into her eyes, he felt something stir inside him, and, without understanding why, he lowered his head, his mouth touching hers.

  He hadn’t meant to kiss her, had not realised how it would feel when he did, the fire that shot through him so unexpected that he reacted instinctively. His mouth possessed hers thoroughly, his tongue seeking access, forcing her to open to him by sheer willpower, slipping inside to explore her sweetness. She tasted like honey and wine, intoxicating. He felt his control slipping. He was inflamed by the taste and scent of her, the way her pliant body seemed to melt again
st him. She might have rejected him had she chosen, pushed him away, but she didn’t, allowing the kiss to go on for as long as he chose, looking at him in a dazed manner as he finally drew away from her. Her eyes were wide, hazy with passion and startled, as though she had never been kissed—but of course she must have been.

  ‘I should not have done that,’ he said as sanity returned. ‘I was angry, but my mother’s unhappiness was not of your making.’

  Hester touched a finger to her lips. She had made no protest while he kissed her and she made none now. ‘I am very sorry that your mother was unhappy, Mr Clinton. I think Grandfather loved her better than any other of his children, and I know that Papa often spoke of her. I am sure that he did not know her letters had been rejected.’

  ‘As I said, it wasn’t your fault—but I cannot forget what she suffered.’

  ‘Was she not happy with her husband and you?’

  ‘Oh, she was happy most of the time,’ Jared said. ‘She loved Pa and he loved her—but thinking of the past made her cry.’

  ‘That does not mean she was unhappy,’ Hester said. ‘I cry sometimes when I think of people I love. Especially John. He was my brother and he died in a riding accident when he was sixteen.’ Her eyes darkened with emotion. ‘He was such a good rider. I have never understood how it happened.’

  ‘You think it might not have been an accident?’ Jared asked, his gaze narrowing as he saw the indecision in her face. ‘You have your suspicions, I think?’

  ‘Yes…though I have no idea who would want to kill John,’ Hester admitted. ‘He wasn’t even the heir then. Papa was still alive.’

  ‘I have been told that the Sheldon family is cursed,’ Jared said. ‘I think that is nonsense, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes…but John believed it,’ Hester said and frowned. ‘He told me the story once. It is very tragic and perhaps there was a curse laid on us many years ago, but I do not believe that it killed them all.’

  ‘You mean your uncles and cousins? You aren’t sure they died of natural causes either, are you?’

  ‘I don’t know…’ Hester looked up at him. ‘Who would want them dead?’

  ‘Someone who could not inherit until they were?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes widened. ‘But you…no, I do not believe it.’

  ‘But you cannot help wondering, can you?’ Jared said, a glint in his eyes. ‘Has it crossed your mind that I might have had them killed so that I could inherit?’

  Hester stared at him, because something of the kind had been in her thoughts, but he was so angry…so proud. Her instinct told her that she ought to trust him; it would be unfair to suspect him of anything so evil.

  ‘I do not know what to think,’ she said. ‘So many deaths…No! I cannot believe you capable of that, sir. I do know that you have tried to deceive us into thinking you something you are not…that awful accent…’ She gave a choke of laughter. ‘Did you really imagine it would work, Mr Clinton?’

  Jared stared at her in stony silence for a moment and then he grinned. ‘Well, damn my eyes if the little girl ain’t rumbled me.’

  ‘I do not think there is much I can teach you in the way of manners, for your mother will have done that when you were a boy,’ Hester said. ‘But I might be of use to you in other ways—we do have some odd customs here, you know. If you were prepared to give Grandfather a little of your time, I would be pleased to help in any way I could. And there are other things. I could teach you to dance, perhaps?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Jared said, smothering a desire to laugh. ‘I dare say there are things I need to know about the family.’

  ‘Anything you wish to know, of course.’

  ‘Well, you could start by telling me who visited this house last evening.’

  ‘Last evening?’ Hester frowned. ‘We were out for the evening, but someone did leave his calling card. His name is Mr Stephen Grant—he is a distant relation. Grandfather’s great-nephew I suppose, once removed.’

  ‘What exactly does that mean?’

  ‘The duke had a half-brother—the son of his father’s second wife, and Mr Grant is that half-brother’s grandson.’

  ‘I’m not sure how things work over here,’ Jared said. ‘As things stand, I am the duke’s heir, right—but what happens if I die?’

  ‘Well, I suppose Mr Grant would inherit everything. He is Grandfather’s only other male relative.’ Hester looked at the way his mouth had thinned. ‘May I ask why?’

  ‘You may ask, but for the moment I shall not answer,’ Jared said. ‘I’m not sure about anything.’ His brow furrowed. ‘When are we going down to the duke’s estate?’

  ‘As soon as you have your clothes,’ Hester said. ‘If you wish, of course?’

  ‘As it happens, I don’t think I have much choice,’ Jared replied, all trace of the twang gone. His expression was serious, his eyes a deep blue-green. ‘I have something to do here, Miss Sheldon. I am not sure where it will take me, and I am not sure of my motives for doing it—but for the moment I am happy to go along with things as you had planned.’

  ‘You mean you will humour Grandfather for a while?’

  ‘You could put it that way.’

  Hester nodded. ‘In that case, we could go and buy you a new hat—unless you do not think it necessary? And you will need clothes for the ball…dancing shoes, perhaps?’

  ‘I am perfectly happy to buy a new hat in your company,’ Jared said offering her his arm. ‘I shall make my own arrangements about paying for it—but I expect you to keep that part of it to yourself.’

  ‘All I ask is that you give us a chance to welcome you to your family, sir.’

  ‘Is that really all you ask, Miss Sheldon?’ Jared’s smile was challenging. ‘Don’t you really expect me to marry an heiress so that I can repair the damage caused by the fire last year?’

  ‘You know about that?’ Hester’s smooth brow furrowed. ‘Mr Birch has exceeded his duty.’

  ‘Mr Birch did not breathe a word other than as he was instructed,’ Jared said. ‘I have my own ways of finding out the truth, as someone else may discover to their peril before too long.’

  Hester stared at him, feeling uneasy once more. This man ran very deep, she sensed it, sensed the underlying menace, the core of steel. She knew that there was much more to him than she had ever imagined—and she’d never dreamed he would have kissed her so wonderfully—but could she trust him?

  Chapter Three

  Hester said goodbye to Mr Clinton at the door of her godmother’s house. She had spent a very pleasant morning at the establishment of one of the finest gentlemen’s hat makers. The heir had purchased four hats: one for morning wear, one for afternoon wear, one for evening and one for riding. He had asked for the account to be sent to him at his hotel and she had no idea how much had been spent, though it must have cost him some guineas. It seemed that he was not destitute, as Mr Birch had assumed, though perhaps not as rich as they had once thought him.

  He had been everything that was charming, showing himself to have perfect manners as he escorted her about the town, and Hester had been happy to introduce him to three ladies and two gentlemen who stopped to speak to them in the street. It had actually given her pleasure to introduce him as her grandfather’s heir, using the title he himself refused to accept.

  ‘People will be curious about you,’ she told him after they had made their purchases and were walking home. ‘I think you will find that you receive many invitations after Grandfather’s ball—if you stay for that, of course.’

  ‘You are fishing, Miss Sheldon,’ Jared told her, his expression somewhere between amusement and annoyance. ‘I shall stay for a few weeks, perhaps, longer than I had first thought—there, will that content you?’

  ‘Yes, for the moment,’ she said, crossing her fingers behind her back because she hoped that he could not read her mind. She knew how much the duke was hoping that he would make his home in England, and if there were some way to persuade him to stay, she would do her b
est to find it. She glanced in the window at some pretty bonnets as they passed a fashionable milliner’s shop, but said nothing, though one in particular had taken her eye. ‘When would it suit you to go down to the country, sir?’

  ‘In the morning, if that would not spoil your own plans, Miss Sheldon?’

  ‘My plans?’ Hester frowned. ‘I had planned to accompany you for reasons which I need not go into now—but you do not need my help, sir. I could stay here for a few days longer.’

  ‘You would oblige me by keeping me company,’ Jared told her. ‘I prefer not to travel alone just at the moment.’

  ‘You are not unwell, I hope?’

  ‘I am perfectly well, though someone did their best to alter that situation last night as I left a gambling club, to which I was introduced by my hotel manager.’

  Hester stopped walking and stared at him. ‘Someone attacked you? Were you hurt? I do not understand—had you won a significant amount at the tables, enough to make it worthwhile robbing you?’

  ‘You assume that the motive was robbery? Yes, perhaps—it might have been, of course,’ he said.

  ‘But what else can it have been?’ Hester was puzzled. ‘It could not be anything else.’ Her expression was thoughtful. ‘I know there have been deaths in the family that would bear further investigation, but how could anyone know you were here? I do not think that anyone other than Mr Birch, my mother, Grandfather and I even knew you had arrived until this morning, when I introduced you to some of my acquaintances.’

  ‘Supposing someone did know,’ Jared said, his eyes intent on her face. Either she was genuinely shocked or she was a very good actress. ‘Do you think they may have wanted to kill me?’

  ‘But who?’ Hester shook her head. ‘Why should anyone wish to…You do not think that Mr Stephen Grant…? No, I cannot think it. He is a man of the cloth and above worldly concerns.’

  ‘He would inherit an estate and a title. Some people might think that worth committing murder for, might they not?’

  ‘Not Mr Grant,’ Hester replied in a tone of conviction. ‘Besides, how would he have known you were here in London? You have never seen or spoken to him in your life. Surely the attack on you was random?’