The Inheritance

by Joan Johnston

  Priss raised a brow. “Does he know how to behave as a gentleman?”

  “If he doesn’t, I’m sure Roanna will correct him,” Daisy said with a smile.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Priss conceded. “Now, I’d like to know what sent you haring over here like this. Obviously, the new duke has arrived. What is he like?”

  “He’s impossible!”

  Priss raised a brow. “Oh?”

  Daisy found it hard to sit, as agitated as she felt. She rose and began pacing in front of the fire. “He plans to sell Severn Manor! None of the land is entailed, and he wants to dispose of everything as quickly as he can and return to America.”

  “Good heavens! What are you going to do?”

  “What can I do? Find someplace to live and remove myself from Severn.”

  “Without a fight?” Priss asked. “That doesn’t sound like the Daisy Windermere I’ve come to know over the past year. That Daisy would be making plans to change the duke’s mind.”

  “She would?”

  “She would.”

  Daisy sat but fidgeted in her seat. “As a matter of fact, I did try arguing with His Grace this morning.”

  “And?”

  “He kissed me.”

  “Why, Daisy, how wonderful! If the duke is attracted to you, that would solve everything. You can simply convince him to propose and—”

  “What!” Daisy leapt from her seat again. “What are you suggesting, Priss?”

  Priss sat forward in her chair. “It’s perfect, don’t you see? If you marry the duke he won’t want to go back to America. And if he stays in England, of course he won’t want to sell Severn Manor. Voilá! All your problems are solved.”

  “Except I’d be married to that barbarian!” Daisy said. “Besides, I have it straight from the horse’s mouth, he doesn’t ever intend to marry.”

  “No man ever intends to marry,” Priss said with a shrewd smile. “It’s up to us to convince them that they can’t live without us.”

  Daisy chewed worriedly on her lower lip. “I don’t know. It sounds like a buffleheaded scheme to me. Besides, I wouldn’t know the first thing about attracting a man. I married Tony out of the schoolroom, and the match was arranged by my parents.”

  “It’s easy,” Priss assured her. “You’ve got a head start if he’s already kissed you.”

  “His Grace did that to intimidate me,” Daisy said with asperity.

  “Did he enjoy it?”

  “How should I know?”

  Priss made a moue. “Come, Daisy, you aren’t that naive.”

  “All right,” she said. “He enjoyed it. Or, at least, he was aroused by it.”

  “The two—arousal and enjoyment—are connected for men, I believe,” Priss confided. “Now, we need a plan of attack.”

  “I haven’t agreed to this,” Daisy protested.

  “Have you a better idea?”

  Daisy stopped in her tracks and stared at her friend. “The benefit to me is obvious if I marry His Grace. What is he going to get out of it? I tell you it won’t work.”

  “Daisy, Daisy,” Priss admonished. “Has it been so long since Tony died? What is His Grace going to get out of it, indeed! A charming and beautiful hostess for his table, an able helpmate dealing with his tenants, and a lovely companion in his bed.”

  Daisy flushed.

  “Have I spoken too bluntly? But I thought we could say anything to each other,” Priss said. “It also seems to me that this is a time for plain speaking.”

  “Yes, it is,” Daisy said, dropping into the chair across from Priss once more. “I came here today hoping that if I spoke with you I could come up with some course of action that would save me from the disaster that looms, both for myself and the tenants and servants of Severn. I hadn’t thought to make so great a sacrifice.…”

  “You see marriage to the duke as a sacrifice?” Priss asked incredulously. “Is he unhandsome, Daisy? Or cruel, do you think? Or profligate, perhaps?”

  Daisy chewed on her lower lip. “He’s quite good-looking, in a savage sort of way,” she confessed. “I don’t think he’s particularly kind, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call him cruel, either. I have no idea whether he’s a wastrel or a spendthrift. To be honest, I don’t know very much about him.”

  Except he makes your toes curl when he kisses you.

  Daisy cleared her throat before continuing. “I would gladly sacrifice myself in a marriage to that barbarian if I thought it would make a difference to those who depend on Severn for their livelihoods. Perhaps as his wife I could convince him to stay here.” Daisy flushed as she realized what inducements she might use to bind the duke to her and to Severn. “Only I have no earthly idea how to get him to propose.”

  Priss snorted. It was a totally uncountesslike sound. “You underestimate yourself, Daisy. You’re a beautiful young woman. He’s a man. There’s no reason why you can’t get him to propose marriage.”

  Daisy rose and began pacing again, like a sleek cat in a small cage. “Don’t, Priss. Can’t you see how impossible all this is? I simply can’t do it. I’m not like you. I don’t know how to flirt. I haven’t the vaguest idea how to attract a man’s attention.”

  “You got him to kiss you,” Priss retorted.

  Daisy flushed. “That may be true, but I’m not sure exactly what I did to provoke him into it.”

  “Trust me. You’ll figure it out,” Priss said.

  “Do you really think a savage like His Grace can be tamed enough to make a docile husband?”

  Priss shook her head. “No, of course not. But you wouldn’t want a docile husband.”

  “Tony—”

  “Tony is dead and best left in the grave,” Priss said. “Whatever he was, he wasn’t a husband to you. Not in the year I knew you before he died, anyway.”

  “How dare you—”

  Priss rose and confronted her friend. “I dare because I’ve come to care about you over the past two years. You’re the sister I never had, Daisy. I’ve never before said a word against Tony, but I’m warning you, don’t hold him up to me as the model of a good husband. He wasn’t.”

  “But I loved him!”

  Priss put a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Yes, you did, more’s the pity. He didn’t deserve you. But that was then, and this is now. You have to start thinking about yourself and what you want.”

  “I want to stay at Severn Manor,” Daisy said. She would never have children, but there were others for whom she could and did care. “I want the servants and tenants to be taken care of. And I want to have some say in the management of the estate. I don’t want to give that up.” She needed to feel useful. She needed to feel like her life had purpose.

  “Fine,” Priss said. “What are you willing to do in order to achieve those things?”

  “Are you asking whether I’d be willing to marry the duke?”

  “If necessary,” Priss said.

  Daisy’s lips firmed. Her shoulders straightened and her chin came up. “I’d do anything to protect Severn Manor. Even marry a barbarian.”

  “What’s that about a barbarian?”

  Daisy whirled and found herself facing the Earl of Rotherham. “Nothing of consequence,” she said.

  He bowed. “Welcome to Rockland Park, Your Grace.”

  “I wish you would dispense with such formality, Charles,” Daisy said with asperity. “I consider you my friend. If Priss is willing to accede to my wishes, I don’t see why you won’t.”

  “Very well,” he said with a grin. “I’ll just ignore you and say hello to my wife.”

  Gray streaked the earl’s black hair at the temples, but even though Charles Warenne was in his early forties, he had the look and build of a younger man. When his dark-brown eyes lit on his much younger wife, they were filled with love.

  Daisy was happy that Tony’s friend should have found so much joy in his second marriage. Not that the earl’s first marriage hadn’t been a love match as well, but Charles had lost his wife
to childbirth and had been alone for fifteen years before he found Priss.

  Priss reached out a hand, and the earl twined his own with hers. Daisy should have felt embarrassed by the demonstration of so much affection between man and wife in public, but she had learned, over the two years since Priss had come into the earl’s household, to accept such gestures as natural behavior between them.

  Daisy felt a constriction in her chest and realized she wanted that kind of love for herself. There was little chance of that now. Not if she married the duke. And it began to seem more and more likely that she would. If she could just figure out a way to have him propose.

  “Has the duke arrived?” Charles asked Daisy.

  “Yes, he has.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing him.”

  “Perhaps that can be arranged,” Daisy said. “Would you and Priss be able to join us for dinner later in the week?”

  “Name the day,” Charles said, “and we’ll be there.”

  The earl’s dark brows rose speculatively when his daughter entered the drawing room with a young man close at her heels.

  “There’s someone else you should meet,” Daisy said. “May I present Mr. Colin Calloway, the duke’s son. This is the countess’s husband, the Earl of Rotherham.”

  Colin bowed. “How do I address you, sir?” he asked with a hesitant smile.

  The earl ignored Colin’s inquiry. “Your name is Calloway? How is it you’re the duke’s son?”

  “My father wasn’t married to my mother.”

  The earl frowned as he looked from Colin to his fetchingly pretty daughter and back. “Have you two been out walking together?” he asked his daughter.

  “Yes, Papa,” Roanna said. “I’ve been showing Mr. Calloway the gardens.”

  Charles turned a stern eye on his countess. “And you allowed this?”

  “But whyever not?” Priss said.

  “I should think that would be perfectly clear,” the earl replied, eyeing Colin once more.

  “It isn’t clear to me, sir,” Colin said, his color high.

  “You aren’t a proper escort, let alone an eligible suitor, for my daughter. I’ll thank you not to come here again.”

  “Charles!” Priss exclaimed.

  “Papa!” Roanna cried.

  “Oh, no, Charles,” Daisy said. “You can’t mean such a thing. I won’t believe you would hold the boy’s birth against him.”

  The earl turned flinty eyes on the duchess. “Where my daughter is concerned, I’ll do what I must.”

  When Colin turned to Roanna, his face was bleached white. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Roanna.” He bowed formally to her before turning to Priss. “And you, Lady Rotherham.” He bowed again before turning to the earl, who got nothing faintly resembling a bow. “No one tells me where I can or can’t go. Good day, sir.”

  A moment later he was gone from the drawing room. They could hear his hurried footsteps on the tiles in the hallway.

  Daisy turned on the earl the instant Colin was gone. “How could you do such a thing! I would never have brought Colin here if I’d thought he would have to endure such an insult. I thought you were a better man, Charles.”

  “A bastard, even the bastard son of a duke, isn’t what I have in mind for my daughter,” Charles said.

  “He isn’t here to propose,” Daisy said in disgust. “He only came to keep me company. And so long as he’s unwelcome here, I won’t be darkening your doorstep. Don’t bother coming for dinner, either. You won’t be welcome!”

  Daisy turned to her friend. “I’m sorry, Priss.”

  “Daisy, don’t go like this!” Priss pleaded. She turned her eyes to her husband. “Oh, Charles. Please change your mind. Please.”

  For a moment Daisy thought Priss might sway the earl. But he turned to Daisy and said, “We all do what we have to do, Your Grace.” He bowed, a gesture with not the least bit of condescension in it.

  Daisy felt the tears welling in her eyes and fought them back. “Good-bye, Priss.”

  Priss held herself aloof from both Daisy and the earl. “I won’t say good-bye, Daisy. Only au revoir. Charles will come to his senses. I’ll send a note when he does.”

  Daisy wanted to laugh at the look of chagrin on the earl’s face at his young wife’s pronouncement. Daisy hugged Roanna and left the drawing room.

  She hurried downstairs, anxious to speak with Colin, to apologize for putting him in such an uncomfortable situation. She found the young American already mounted and holding the reins of her horse.

  “Do you need help mounting?” he asked.

  Daisy accepted the assistance of the groom who stood waiting nearby. When she was settled she accepted the reins from Colin. “I’m sorry, Colin. Let’s go home.”

  “Severn Manor isn’t home to me,” Colin said. “And the sooner I see the backside of this place, the better.”

  “The earl will mellow. Give him time.”

  Colin looked at her with blue eyes that reminded her of his father, cold and ruthless. “I don’t need his approval to see Lady Roanna.”

  “Oh, but you do,” Daisy cautioned. “There are rules about that sort of thing in England.”

  “I’m not an Englishman,” Colin reminded her.

  “No,” Daisy said, “I suppose you’re not.” But he might become one if Daisy married the duke and father and son remained in England. She could imagine what Nicholas would have to say about a society that rejected his son because of his birth. Even more to the point, she wondered how the local English gentry were going to greet Nicholas, the prodigal bastard son. Daisy supposed the duke’s case was somewhat different, because he had been born in the parish. And there had never been any proof he was a bastard, only rumors and gossip.

  Daisy and Colin rode the rest of the way in silence. Daisy didn’t regret her visit to Priss. The countess had forced her to see she had few alternatives if she hoped to save Severn Manor.

  Plainly, she would have to marry His Grace.

  Daisy fought the rosy heat that raced to her cheeks as she realized what that would mean. She would have to lie with the duke and allow him to make love to her. Daisy found the thought as frightening as it was thrilling. It would be far safer to ask for a marriage of convenience. But she had no real hope the duke would agree to it.

  Ashamed as she was to admit it, maybe marriage to the duke wasn’t going to be such a sacrifice after all.

  4

  Nicholas sat behind the Sheraton desk in the library with Phipps on the other side. The solicitor was explaining something about the estate. Nicholas was listening, but he didn’t hear a word Phipps said. His mind was totally occupied with Daisy Windermere, or rather, with memories of their confrontation that morning.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her. It had complicated everything. Not that it hadn’t been a gratifying experience. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he had been so devastated by a kiss. The feel of her defiant little mouth under his, as it softened and yielded, had aroused him beyond rational thought. He had taken liberties with her that were far from acceptable. But she had been right about one thing. He was no gentleman. He had little use for women, and none at all for ladies.

  She had gumption, he would give her that. And grit, too. He would have enjoyed taking her to bed. Not that there was much chance of that happening. He imagined all that spit and fire between the sheets, and his body responded accordingly. He shifted and leaned forward at the desk, forcing his mind back to what the solicitor was saying.

  “So I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to find a buyer for Severn Manor in the immediate future. At least not at a price equal to its worth.”

  “What?” Nicholas exclaimed. “After you’ve gotten me here on the pretext of all the wealth to be had from Severn Manor, are you saying I won’t be able to sell this place?”

  “Not unless you can make it a more profitable undertaking, Your Grace.”

  Nicholas wished he had been paying attention. “Why isn�
�t it profitable now?”

  The look on the solicitor’s face made it plain he had already explained the matter. He tugged at his waistcoat and dutifully began again, speaking more slowly, as though that would aid Nicholas in understanding the problem the second time it was presented to him.

  “To be frank,” Phipps said, “competition from American wheat has depressed prices in England. Since your property is planted primarily in wheat, it’s worth less to a potential buyer.”

  “So we plant something else,” Nicholas said. “Something worth more on the market.”

  “That’s not as easy as it sounds, Your Grace.”

  “Why not?”

  “You would need the cooperation of your tenants. You would have to supply them with information about planting and tending crops with which they have no prior experience.”

  “They’ll do as I say, or they’ll leave,” Nicholas said.

  Phipps ran a finger around the buttoned collar at his throat. “Your Grace, if I may be so bold—”

  There was a knock on the library door. Daisy entered without waiting for permission. She marched over to stand beside Phipps, her hands laced together in front of her. She looked straight ahead, ignoring Nicholas.

  “I’m here, Phipps. Thompson gave me your message when I returned from my ride.”

  Nicholas raised a brow and focused a hard gaze on the solicitor. “I thought this was supposed to be a private meeting.”

  Phipps ran a finger around his buttoned collar a second time. “Well, Your Grace—”

  “Unbutton the damned thing, Phipps, if you’re having trouble breathing.”

  Phipps stiffened. “I couldn’t possibly, Your Grace. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Get on with it then,” Nicholas said irritably. He refused to look at Daisy, even though she drew his eye.

  “To be blunt, Your Grace—”

  “Sit down, Daisy.”

  Nicholas felt a grim satisfaction when her eyes shot to his at the use of her name. She looked lost and vulnerable for an instant, an instant in which he yearned to take her up in his arms and hold her close. The expression in her eyes was gone a moment later, replaced with a look of scorn so contemptuous he felt himself flinch.