The Unexpected Heiress

by Kaitlin O’Riley

  Lord knew her life had been nothing but one hardship after another.

  Born illegitimate to a lady’s maid and a footman on an estate outside London, Katherine Dalton had been raised by the lady of the house when her mother died in childbirth and her father ran off. She had been well cared for and given an education, but a life in the shadows as a servant wasn’t for Katherine. She’d blossomed into a beautiful and irresistible young woman and after being surrounded by expensive and lovely things that did not belong to her, she was determined to get them for herself.

  After causing an unforgettable and unforgivable uproar when she’d been caught sleeping with the master of the house, Katherine left for London on her own at the age of sixteen. With her stunning face and body, she quickly found work as a dancer in the theaters of London. Katherine gained a little fame and had many wealthy admirers from whom she could pick and choose. She drifted deliberately from affair to affair, always looking to secure a better future for herself.

  But Lord Vickers, a man old enough to be her grandfather, had been the only one to offer her the security of marriage, and she eagerly took him up on it. To be a grand lady herself was quite a step up and she knew it. Lord Vickers had been besotted with her and showered her with expensive gifts and jewels.

  But even he could not make the society matrons accept her fully.

  Everyone looked down their noses at Katherine and sneered at her lowly background and scoffed at her marriage to a man in his dotage. Katherine’s improper behavior and flashy style of dress didn’t endear her to anyone either, as she flouted convention and propriety time and again. While he’d been alive, her husband had attempted to protect her from the snide comments and cruel jabs, but when he was gone . . .

  Things became even worse for Katherine. She had doors slammed in her face and the invitations to parties and dinners dwindled.

  She lashed out then, becoming even more flamboyant and egregious in her flaying of social conventions, hence the “notorious widow” sobriquet. She’d even slept with a few of the snootiest matrons’ husbands, just to teach them a lesson.

  Although financially secure, she now wanted to belong and fit in with people, but she didn’t know how. For her entire life she had always been on the outside looking in, and it frustrated her. Katherine wanted to be loved and adored, not ostracized and sneered at.

  She wanted a real family.

  She could have those things with Phillip Sinclair. She could have a real life with him.

  Katherine couldn’t say for sure when she first realized she had fallen in love with Phillip, but it had taken her completely by surprise because she had never been in love with anyone before.

  Aside from their chemistry in the bedroom, he treated her differently from any other man she’d ever been with because he respected her.

  Phillip saw the good in her when no one else could. He made her want to be better, because he was kind, generous, and caring. He was decent and loving and he came from a fine family. He was a beloved figure in London. Everyone who knew Phillip Sinclair loved him. He was popular and well regarded. He would care for her and respect her, and he would protect her.

  As the Earl of Waverly’s wife, no door would be closed to her, because she would become instantly respectable. Not to mention that when Phillip inherited the title from his father one day, he would be a marquis, making Katherine a marchioness. Phillip would guide her and teach her how to be a proper lady. His large family would also protect her.

  He would be such a different husband from old Vickers. Phillip was young, handsome, and full of life and fun. Oh, they would have beautiful children together! They could have a real future together.

  Which was why she was so anxious to properly meet his parents this evening and to make a good impression on them. If his family liked her, then perhaps Phillip would propose to her. She thought the meeting had gone well, but then there had been that beautiful little oil heiress standing there with his family at her side. With her soulful eyes, beautiful face, and innocent expression, the girl was stunning and wasn’t even aware of it.

  Something about that American heiress made Katherine nervous.

  Speak of the devil.... There was Miss Remington now, hurrying toward her along the empty corridor! The girl had just turned the corner of the long marble hallway, looking flustered and a bit disheveled, and her hair was mussed.

  “Oh, Miss Remington!” Katherine called out to her. “Have you seen Lord Waverly?”

  Startled, Miss Remington paused and looked up at her as if in a daze. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I asked if you’ve seen Lord Waverly. I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”

  An expression crossed the girl’s face that Katherine could only describe as guilty.

  But the oil heiress squared her shoulders and said, “No, I have not seen him since earlier this evening.”

  No sooner had Miss Remington uttered those very words than the man in question came hurrying around the very same corner calling after her.

  “Merry, wait! Please don’t go like that—”

  Phillip came to an abrupt halt when he saw Katherine. He had exactly the same guilty expression on his face as Miss Remington.

  Katherine was stunned. Completely speechless.

  She stood there staring between the two of them, as her mind raced to piece together what she didn’t want to believe, but she could not deny. Katherine was no fool. Phillip and Miss Remington had just been up to something illicit. Together. They had quite obviously been kissing each other.

  Katherine’s heart sunk to the floor. She’d lost him.

  * * *

  Charles Ridgley, the Duke of Havenfield, drank the last of his champagne and wandered back into the crowded ballroom.

  Where had she gone?

  He hadn’t seen Miss Remington for over an hour now, since Lord Simon Sinclair had whisked her off for a dance. He noted that Delilah Remington was dancing with Lord Brixton, but her beautiful niece was nowhere in sight.

  And Meredith Remington was beautiful, indeed.

  He’d been captivated at first sight by her rich chestnut hair and clear blue eyes, fair skin, and those full, pouty lips. She was so dainty and serene. There was nothing flighty or flirty or fidgety about her.

  Charles simply couldn’t abide nervous or anxious women who stuttered and stammered like little fools around him.

  No, Miss Remington was calm and cool, almost as if she didn’t care if he were interested in her or not. But then again, with her millions in oil money, why should she care? As beautiful and rich as she was, she could have whichever man she desired.

  But Charles knew that he possessed what every woman who married truly wanted: a high-ranking title. Whoever married him would become a duchess, and that was something Americans couldn’t buy, even with all their millions of dollars.

  Charles could give her that priceless title. And that he was still a handsome man for his age, and wealthy in his own right, was nothing to sniff it either. He knew Miss Remington would come around in the end. She was a lady of good sense—common sense—unlike most girls her age. He’d detected that about her right from the start and it was part of what intrigued him.

  She was the wife for him.

  His parents had arranged his first marriage when he was quite young. Alicia Lassiter had been a dutiful wife and mother, and that’s about the only compliment he could attribute to her. Everything had been a duty for Alicia, including their marriage bed, yet she managed to give him four healthy children. Then she died unexpectedly from an infection, leaving him a free man. Now Charles wanted a wife of his own choosing.

  And he chose the lovely Meredith Remington.

  Yes, she was American. That was a drawback. But her other qualities more than made up for that particular flaw.

  His children needed a mother of course, and Meredith would make a fine mother for them, in spite of her youth. And if she gave him more children, that was fine too. He would no doubt enjoy trying with
her.

  Yet, he was beginning to wonder if he’d been mistaken in her affection for him. At first, he’d been so caught up in the chase, which was quite thrilling since she seemed rather distant and cool, unlike most English women who were either too intimidated by his title or too eager to attain it through marriage. Charles relished the idea of trying to win over the beautiful American girl. It invigorated him and made him feel younger than he had in years.

  Perhaps he’d been showing his hand too much? Maybe he should back off a little and let her wonder about his intentions instead.

  He was heading toward the corridor when he saw Meredith hurrying in his direction. She looked a little distraught and slightly disheveled. Her cheeks were red, and her delicate forehead was furrowed in distress.

  “Miss Remington?” he asked, concern rising within him. “What is the matter? Are you ill?”

  She looked at him helplessly, her blue eyes brimming with tears.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace, but I’m not feeling very well at all. I would like to go home, please.”

  Filled with the desire to protect her, Charles sprang into action, escorting her to a gilt-edged settee near the main entryway. She needed him. Thrilled that he could come to her rescue, he longed to pull her into his arms and kiss her. But being the consummate gentleman, he did no such thing.

  “You don’t look well at all, forgive me for saying. Wait right here. I’ll get your aunt and have my carriage brought round. I shall take you home right away, Miss Remington.”

  16

  Weigh One’s Words

  “Who are you?” she asked. “And why do you wish to help me?”

  He had taken her to a small cabin not far from where he’d found her hiding in the woods. Had she been a fool to trust a complete stranger? Yet, what other choice did she have but to go with him?

  Huntley was still out there in the misty darkness. If he had been the one to find her first, he would have killed her already.

  Instead, she’d been rescued by a handsome stranger.

  She looked at him standing there, with his dark hair slicked back from his face and his green eyes dancing, a slight dimple in his cheek. Olivia was momentarily blinded by his charming smile.

  “Does my name matter? I just saved your life. He would have killed you if I hadn’t rescued you.” His deep voice was filled with warmth and concern.

  “I’d still like to know with whom I’m speaking,” she said.

  * * *

  As Meredith reread her work, she realized that she had described Phillip Sinclair to a T.

  Phillip Sinclair, the pompous Earl of Waverly, had invaded her every thought. No matter how much she tried to forget him, he somehow wheedled his way back into her brain. And her heart.

  Yes, her heart.

  She had fallen in love with him.

  It was the only explanation for her complete preoccupation with him and the utter loss of inhibitions when she was with him. His kisses rendered her weak and shaking, but worst of all. . .

  His kisses left her wanting more.

  What had prompted her to kiss him at Lady Abbott’s ball? She would never have behaved in such a forward and outlandish manner if she’d been in her right mind. But she’d fallen in love when she least expected it. She’d read enough books over the years to know what had happened to her.

  She was in love with Phillip Sinclair.

  Meredith loved the sound of his voice and his laughter and the way she felt when she was with him. She loved that he loved her book. He was charming, sweet, and funny. He was thoughtful and delightful. She even loved his family, from his mother right down to his aunts and uncles.

  Yes, she was in love with Phillip Sinclair all right, and she was just sick about it.

  He didn’t love her back, and he didn’t want to get married, and he was with that blond widow.

  And Meredith had to get married sooner rather than later.

  With a heavy sigh, she picked up her pen once more. It was one of the expensive fountain pens from the set that Phillip had given her. It’d become difficult to focus on her writing because she was so distracted by her thoughts of Phillip. She looked at the sheet of clean paper in front of her, poised to continue writing her story.

  But nothing happened.

  She hadn’t a thought or an idea that she wanted to put down on paper. All that kept going through her head is, I love him, I love him, over and over again. It was terribly distracting, but Meredith didn’t know how to stop it from happening.

  She glanced out the window, looking at the London rooftops.

  Patches of blue sky were still visible, but the sun was beginning to set on what had been a lovely spring day. The air had been warmer, and she’d gone to the park with the Duke of Havenfield in his carriage again that afternoon.

  He had been so kind to her after he discovered her crying at Lady Abbott’s ball and believed that she’d been taken ill. She hadn’t been ill at all, of course, just sick over what had happened with Phillip, but she could hardly explain that to the duke.

  So when he asked her to go for a carriage ride this afternoon, it would have been rude of her to decline.

  When they’d returned, she told both of her aunts that she had a dreadful headache, felt sick to her stomach, and was retiring to her room. While they were both preparing to attend a large supper party, Meredith slipped out of Lavinia’s townhouse and made her way to Hamilton’s Book Shoppe in order to write.

  But so far, she hadn’t managed a single new word. She had written five different beginnings of the same sentence and had crossed out each one with a sigh of exasperation. She was too wound up, too anxious, and too distracted to write anything, and it frustrated her.

  Perhaps if she had a glass of that red wine that Phillip had brought her? Would that relax her enough so she could write something?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Meredith had just opened the bottle and poured herself a small glass of wine when there was a knock on the door. Calling for whoever was there to come in, she made her way out of the kitchen with the wine glass in her hand. Then she froze.

  Phillip Sinclair stood in the doorway.

  There was a very long silence, during which Meredith could scarcely draw a breath.

  “Good evening.”

  His deep voice seemed to reverberate throughout her whole body.

  She couldn’t say a word in response. She just stared at him. It had been three days since she’d seen him on the evening of Lady Abbott’s ball, and she felt awkward after all that had happened between them. They had kissed passionately. Twice!

  “May I come in?” he asked.

  Without thinking, she nodded her agreement, and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  “I won’t stay long, I promise. It’s great luck finding you here. I thought I’d take a chance and come by, just in case you were here.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry, that’s not true. Actually, I’ve been by here every single day, multiple times each day, since Lady Abbott’s ball . . . simply hoping to see you.”

  “You have?” she squeaked, oddly touched by the gesture.

  “Yes,” he said, flashing a smile. “But now I’ve found you.”

  “You could have just come to call on me at my aunt Lavinia’s house. I imagine that would have been easier.”

  “Yes, it might have, but I wouldn’t have been able to be alone with you. As I am now.” He gave her a pointed look. “Being with you here is so much nicer.”

  Ignoring the way her heart rate increased, Meredith glanced at the glass of red wine she still held in her hand. She needed to calm her nerves even more now. She took a fortifying sip.

  “Why do you need to see me, Phillip?”

  He stepped closer to her. “Because I wanted to talk to you. I feel that an apology is in order.”

  His nearness caused every nerve in her body to spark.

  “An apology for what?” Meredith managed to ask him.


  “For everything. For the other day when we kissed. For the other night when we kissed. For hurting your feelings.”

  “Why would you think my feelings were hurt?”

  “Weren’t they?” His green eyes clouded with confusion. “After we kissed?”

  She shook her head. “No. My feelings were not hurt at all. You’ve nothing to apologize for. I wanted those kisses as much as you did.”

  “I doubt that,” he mumbled low. Then he smiled. “Well, then, I guess that settles it”—he clapped his hands together—“I suppose I shall have to have a glass of wine with you.”

  Meredith watched as he walked past her. While she took a seat on one of the matching velvet sofas, she heard him banging about in the kitchen. It felt oddly natural to be alone with him this way. As if this was a little home that they shared. How happy they would be together!

  One thought kept racing through her head. He’d been looking for her and waiting for her! Her heart fluttered at the very thought of him seeking her out, and she was elated that he’d come to see her!

  He returned with his glass and the wine bottle and joined her on the sofa. He held his glass up to hers, and they toasted.

  “To new beginnings and getting published,” he said with a warm grin.

  She smiled at his words, delighted that he was still so excited about her writing. The intense feeling she had whenever he was near her returned, washing over her. It was almost difficult to breathe.

  “How goes the writing?” he asked. “Have you written me as a character yet?”

  Meredith laughed, loving that he teased her that way. “I’m working on it.”

  “Remember to make him very handsome, just like me,” he said before sipping his wine.

  “How could I forget that?” she asked with a wry look. He was an incorrigible rogue, but that was part of his charm. And indeed, he was more than passably handsome.

  “I hope I’m not distracting you too much from your writing.”

  She shrugged and gave him a little smile. “I was already distracted before you got here.”

  Phillip suddenly grew serious and looked at her intently.

  “Merry, I know you don’t think that I have anything to apologize for, but I do. And I do need to tell you how I feel about us. . . . Well . . . about everything that happened between us. Please forgive me. I am sorry for taking advantage of you, for kissing you here that day and again later that night. I was not acting the gentleman,” he confessed.