The Unexpected Heiress

by Kaitlin O’Riley

  Meredith, however, was all set. She had secured a position as a governess for a family she knew who lived on Park Avenue. She would support herself as she had wanted to right from the start, before her aunt had swept her away to London. She could stand on her own. She would work and write more books.

  Meredith wasn’t worried about money or what would happen to her. She wasn’t afraid anymore, for the worst had already happened to her.

  She had lost both of her parents, been left basically penniless, and her heart had been broken by the man she loved.

  Meredith could survive anything now.

  But apparently, Phillip could not.

  Mara continued, saying, “My aunt Colette is quite concerned about Phillip. But I didn’t come here to talk to you about him. He’s my cousin, and I love him dearly, but I daresay he’s the biggest fool out there to let a woman like you get away. He will never get that lucky again.” Mara gave a little nod of her blond head for emphasis.

  A sudden urge to cry welled within her. Meredith took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She didn’t want to hear about Phillip anymore. She simply couldn’t bear it.

  “I appreciate your concern, but I’m curious as to why you’ve come to see me this afternoon, Mara,” Meredith said.

  Mara smiled a bit mysteriously. “There is something that I think you need to see. Would you come to Hamilton’s Book Shoppe with me?”

  “Right this moment?” she asked, a bit taken aback.

  “Yes, please.”

  Confused by the request, Meredith wanted to refuse. There were far too many beautiful memories of Hamilton’s Book Shoppe that would torture her heart if she were to return there.

  “Can you not simply tell me about whatever this is? Must I go to the bookshop?”

  “I believe you definitely need to see this in person. Please come with me, Meredith. It won’t take too long, I promise, and my carriage is waiting right outside,” Mara cajoled with a warm smile. “I can have you back at home before you know it.”

  “I suppose I’ll go with you then . . .” Meredith seemed helpless to disagree.

  Between her aunt acting so mysteriously and now Mara Sheridan luring her to the bookshop with a secretive object that must be seen, Meredith suspected that something was afoot. She couldn’t begin to guess at what, so it was better to simply get it over with and find out.

  * * *

  When they arrived at Hamilton’s Book Shoppe a short time later, Meredith was struck by how much she missed being in the lovely bookstore. It had been like home to her from the first moment she stepped foot inside.

  After the broken engagement, Meredith no longer felt comfortable using the living quarters upstairs as her writing space. Colette had never withdrawn her offer, and she had, in fact, sent Meredith a note asking her to please continue to utilize the space and encouraging her not to give up on her writing. Meredith wrote to Colette, thanking her, but said that using the writing residence now was not the right thing to do.

  Too devastated to go herself, Meredith sent Aunt Delilah to the shop to collect her manuscript and the personal possessions she had left there, and she had finished writing in her cramped little bedroom at Aunt Lavinia’s house.

  The bookshop simply held too many wonderful memories of Phillip. She had first met him there. She first kissed him there. He asked her to marry him there. And they made love there. The bookshop and the residence above it were inextricably tied to Phillip.

  And now that she was no longer with him, it was simply unbearable to be there.

  But there she was, with Mara Sheridan, back in the charming little bookshop that had changed her life. The bells jingled as they walked through the door. Yet nothing about the store had changed, only Meredith had. Customers still browsed and selected their purchases. The books still stood proudly lined up along the shelves. The women who worked there still smiled at her.

  Meredith used to want to spend every minute at the shop, for she knew that she could write to her heart’s content there. Not anymore. Everything was different now. She winced at the pain in her heart and wanted to leave.

  “What is it?” Meredith whispered with growing insistence, wishing to escape as quickly as she could. “What is it that I need to see?”

  “It’s upstairs,” Mara said, leading Meredith to the back of the shop and up the stairs to the private residence above.

  Steeling herself as she ascended each step, Meredith harbored the suspicion that perhaps Phillip would be waiting for her upstairs. It would be just like his family to orchestrate some kind of reunion between them. It was a wild notion, but one that made her heart rate increase, nevertheless.

  She grew warm thinking about the possibilities. She wasn’t sure if she wanted Phillip to be on the other side of that door or not. What would she do if he was there? Would she run to him? Would she cry? Would she leave immediately? There was no telling what she’d do.

  As they entered the main living room area, Meredith came to a sudden stop and gasped in surprise.

  Phillip was not there.

  No one else was there. The room was quiet and peaceful as it always was, done in tasteful shades of blue. The portrait of the five Hamilton sisters hung over the fireplace. The large windows, draped with sheer white curtains, allowed warm sunlight to fill the room. It was exactly the same as it had been before. Except for one thing.

  Her mother’s desk now sat where Colette’s desk used to be.

  Her mother’s writing desk! The one that Meredith had been forced to leave behind in New York.

  The elegant cherrywood, slant-front desk, inlaid with a dark green, tooled-leather writing surface and lots of secret, hidden compartments, stood proudly near the window. The slight scratches and little nicks on the surface proved its use and long life and had been quite endearing.

  In stunned surprise, Meredith walked slowly toward her beloved desk. She touched it gently, almost reverently, running her hand along the smooth surface, remembering the times she’d seen her mother seated there.

  “How did it get here?” she managed to ask on a whisper when she found her voice again.

  Mara eyed her carefully. “Phillip arranged with your aunt Delilah to have it shipped from New York the night you were engaged. He knew how much it meant to you, and he wanted you to have it. He wished to surprise you with it before you married.”

  Phillip. Of course. Only he would do something so wildly extravagant and incredibly thoughtful for her.

  He had somehow managed to bring her most cherished possession across the Atlantic Ocean to surprise her. And he’d had it delivered, not to her aunt Lavinia’s townhouse, but to the bookshop where she did her writing.

  In the bliss-filled days after they were first engaged, she and Phillip had discussed their life after they were married. Phillip decided that the private residence above the shop would become Meredith’s permanent writing space. Colette had gifted it to her, to arrange, decorate, use, and set up however Meredith wished.

  Meredith had been overjoyed at the prospect. She would be able to have her own place to write. Her own writing residence. It was a dream come true. And one that had disappeared when Phillip left her.

  “It just arrived yesterday,” Mara stated softly, referring to the desk. “I thought you would want to see it.”

  Meredith was overcome with emotions. Mainly, she was deeply touched by Phillip’s thoughtfulness. He must have gone to great lengths and great expense to bring the desk from New York to London.

  “How?” she asked Mara incredulously. She had only mentioned the desk to him once. “How did he do this?”

  “Phillip learned from your aunt where the desk was being stored, and then he had our uncle in New York arrange to bring it over. Uncle Harrison is a ship captain and has his own shipping company. He, along with Aunt Juliette and our cousin Sara and her husband, Christopher, were sailing from New York to London to be here for your wedding anyway, so they simply brought the desk with them on their ship.” With an a
mused expression, Mara explained the circuitous route in which the desk had taken.

  Meredith nodded her head. Yes, it seemed easy enough. And it was still exceedingly caring and thoughtful of Phillip. Her heart constricted at the thought of losing him. They would have had such a happy life together.

  “It is rather sad though,” Meredith murmured softly.

  Mara looked at her with questioning eyes. “I don’t understand. I thought you’d be happy to have your desk returned to you . . .”

  “Oh, yes, certainly I would be thrilled under normal circumstances, but Phillip did this all for nothing,” Meredith said forlornly. “It’s such a shame. Now I’ll just have to arrange for my desk to be shipped back to New York with me.”

  “You still intend to leave London then?” Mara asked, her delicate brows drawn together in a frown.

  “Yes, I leave next week. There’s really no reason for me to stay here any longer.”

  Except that there was no doubt in Meredith’s mind that she would be leaving all that was left of her heart behind when she boarded that ship to cross the Atlantic.

  Mara ventured to ask, “Do you still have feelings for him, Meredith?”

  “Of course I do, but he has broken my heart.”

  There was a brief knock on the door, and before either Meredith or Mara could respond, Simon Sinclair strode in.

  She cried in delight, happy to see her dear friend. “Simon!”

  Simon had been the only one who had come to visit her at Aunt Lavinia’s house since the wedding was canceled. It warmed her heart that Simon had not abandoned her when everyone else had.

  He hugged Meredith tightly. It was then Meredith noticed he was not alone.

  Simon made the introductions. “I want you to meet our cousin, Sara Fleming Townsend, the Countess of Bridgeton.” He turned to his cousin. “Sara, this is Meredith Remington.”

  Meredith was at last meeting the American cousin who had married an English earl just last year. She’d heard a great deal about Sara Fleming Townsend and knew that she, Mara, Simon, and Phillip had all been playmates as children. Sara was a stunning young woman who was dressed in a fashionable gown of black and white stripes with giant leg o’ mutton sleeves and an extravagant white lace hat topped by a black ostrich feather. She also carried a little dog in her arms. If Meredith were to describe her, it would most definitely be as the heroine of a novel. The dazzling female with stylishly coiffed black hair and intelligent blue eyes commanded attention just with her presence.

  “So you’re Miss Remington, the one who finally got our Phillip to fall so head over heels in love that we had to carry this desk of yours across the ocean.”

  The woman’s face was alight with amusement and curiosity. She shook Meredith’s hand with her free hand, the little dog still in the other, and she smiled warmly.

  “I’m Sara, the American cousin. I’m sure they’ve told you about me. I’ve heard that both of us are from New York City, so we have that in common. And this little fellow here is Boots.”

  She set down the adorable little Yorkshire terrier, who couldn’t weigh more than four pounds, and he scampered playfully about the room, his tiny tail wagging.

  “Oh, he’s simply adorable!” Meredith cried at the sight of the little creature. Then she turned to face Phillip’s cousin. “It’s very nice to meet you, Lady Bridgeton.”

  “I’m still not accustomed to being addressed as Lady Bridgeton. All these English titles! I’m an American, as you are. Please call me Sara, because I shall certainly call you Meredith. We are to be cousins, after all,” Sara said with a friendly expression. Then she called in a stern voice, “Boots, no!”

  Not wishing to be distracted by the dog that was now under the sofa, Meredith wondered what the three cousins were up to together.

  She glanced at them, feeling a bit nervous. “May I ask what you all are doing here? I have the distinct feeling I am being set up in some way.”

  “We’re here to help you,” Sara announced.

  “Help me?” Meredith turned questioning eyes toward the Hamilton cousins.

  Simon added, “Yes, we want to help you and Phillip get back together.”

  “Why?” Meredith asked, a feeling of panic mixed with wild hope rising in her chest.

  “We’re certainly not going to let the best thing that ever happened to Phillip Sinclair get away from him, whether he likes it or not,” Mara answered with determination.

  Simon continued, his expression worried, “I know you both still love each other, Meredith. Now you’re about to leave London, and Phillip has been rip-roaring drunk since the engagement ended. All of this pain has been caused by nothing more than a ridiculous misunderstanding.”

  Meredith hated hearing how Phillip was behaving while they’d been separated, and she hated that she still longed for him. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to apologize for not being honest with him. She wanted everything back to the way it was. But it couldn’t be. Phillip had made that quite clear.

  She tried to tell his family as much. “But it was Phillip’s decision to end things between us, and I just don’t see how you—”

  Sara interrupted her. “Do you still love Phillip?”

  “Yes, of course I do, but I don’t see how—”

  “If you still love him, then you must help him,” Mara implored, her wide eyes filled with concern.

  “He needs you, Meredith,” Simon insisted. “He still loves you, too, but he’s too much of a pompous idiot to see how much of a mistake he made with you.”

  “Even if that were true, he won’t speak to me, so I don’t see how I can convince him to do anything,” Meredith protested, but her heart soared at the idea of reuniting with Phillip. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  “Well, we do,” said Sara with a satisfied smile. “And we’ve come up with a plan! We heiresses need to stick together.”

  27

  Write It Off

  Phillip Sinclair knew he should rise from his bed and rejoin the world.

  But he simply didn’t care to.

  The sun had just dawned on a fine summer morning, and the light filtered in between the navy blue drapes that covered the tall windows of his bedroom at Devon House. The golden sunlight was an affront to his senses. He buried his head in the soft down pillows that graced his bed and groaned heavily.

  How had this happened?

  How had he been so happy and looking forward to every part of his future with Meredith Remington just a short time ago, and now he lay miserably in his room with no desire to do anything whatsoever but hide from everyone and nurse his wounded spirit?

  It defied logic that Meredith would lie to him that way. If only she had been honest with him, none of this would have happened. She should have confided in him. She should have had enough faith in him to tell him the truth of her circumstances. But she hadn’t trusted him or believed that he loved her. She had used him. He didn’t give a damn about her financial status, but he cared very much that she had not believed in him. If only she hadn’t lied to him, he would still be with her.

  But she did lie. Not just to him, but also to everyone he knew. And to be told the truth by none other than the Duke of Havenfield was the breaking point. Phillip was humiliated.

  And he was even more humiliated by his behavior over the last two weeks.

  Restless, he flipped over onto his back and flung the blankets off his body. He had to get out and do something. He would go mad if he didn’t. He rose from the bed and pulled back the dark drapes that covered the windows, allowing the soft morning sunlight to flood his bedroom.

  It had been a little while since he had greeted the morning.

  Phillip peered out the window and noted that the Mayfair neighborhood where Devon House was located was coming to life. He sighed with a weariness that belied his young age. He’d hidden inside long enough, and he was disgusted with himself. Turning from the window, he pulled the tasseled bell cord for his valet and asked for his bath to be
drawn.

  It was past the time to face the world again. But it was also time to face it responsibly, like a man.

  A short time later he was freshly shaven, dressed, and seated at the breakfast table. Ignoring the platters of sausages and kippers and fluffy scrambled eggs, Phillip had only had some toast and coffee.

  “Do my eyes deceive me? Or is my brother actually out of bed before noon?”

  Phillip shot Simon a look of warning. The last thing he needed was to be pushed by his younger brother. He was in no mood for even lighthearted ribbing, in spite of the fact that his brother stated the truth.

  Simon accepted the hint with good-natured aplomb, as he took a seat across from him at the table. “It’s nice to see you up, Phillip. We’ve missed you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, appreciating the sentiment. Phillip even managed to give his brother a smile.

  “Have you any plans today?” Simon asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Phillip said. “I need to meet with Father first. I had been working on some matters of the estate before I broke—”

  He stumbled, unable to say the words aloud. It had been weeks since he’d ended things with Meredith Remington. He still couldn’t help thinking he’d made a most dreadful mistake. Hadn’t he?

  “I just need to make some arrangements with Father this morning,” Phillip managed to say. “Have you seen him?”

  “Yes, you just missed him. He and Mother both stepped out early this morning. Something about Mother wanting him to see something at one of the bookshops.”

  Oddly disappointed that his parents were already out for the day, Phillip sighed. “Then I’ll have to tackle the work on my own then, if Father isn’t here. I’ve been a bit lax in my duties lately.”

  Simon’s eyes looked at him with sympathy, and he nodded in acknowledgment. “We have noticed that you’ve not been yourself.”

  Phillip knew his brother was now being kind. “I’m ashamed to say that I have behaved terribly.”

  Since Meredith was no longer in his life, Phillip had done whatever he could do to try to forget the woman had ever existed. That included drinking generous amounts of liquor, namely the finest scotch he could get his hands on. Phillip could barely remember much of what he had done the first few days, mainly because he’d been in a drunken stupor when he wasn’t crying his eyes out over losing the only woman he had ever loved.