“Father did not leave things in order, Jack.” Winston confessed as they rode home. “We’re nearly destitute, as a matter of fact. At least I think we are. Creditors will be demanding payment soon if I can’t discover where Father hid the money. If there is money, I haven’t been able find it. Not only that, but I suspect that Father didn’t die of natural causes like we first believed.”
“I can’t believe he’s really dead. But are you saying that he was murdered?” Jackson hadn’t anticipated this grim homecoming. He knew Winston had been concerned, but he hadn’t believed that things were this bad.
“And that’s not all. There have been some accidents, with the boys and Marcus. Jack, I think someone is trying to kill us all off.”
“Us?”
“Yes. Us. The Bradley men.” Winston was not the sort to make things up or jump to crazy conclusions, but this was about as wild an idea as he’d ever had.
“There has to be some other explanation,” Jack said shaking his head in disbelief.
“Maybe, but Marcus’s horse went wild one day and we found a hat pin in the blanket. And my oldest son, Edward...” Winston had to pause as he thought of his boy. “He fell off his horse while riding alone in the woods due to a broken buckle, but either one could have broken their necks.”
“Who would want the Bradley men dead, especially if there is no money left?” Jack shook his head in disbelief. It was a farfetched theory that his brother was presenting him. “Are you certain that Father left no money? Who do you suspect of the crimes? Have you called the police?” He had many more questions, but these seemed to be the most pertinent at the moment.
“I’ve talked to the police and they don’t share my concerns. The consensus is that I’m crying wolf to keep the debt collectors at bay.” Winston was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I would have said you and Marcus are the most likely suspects, if he hadn’t been targeted and you weren’t a shipping mogul, not to mention in America when all this was happening. I mean, we have three male heirs, not to mention my boys and Marcus’s wife is pregnant with their first child. Of course, we don’t know if it will be a boy or a girl. So, forgive my crudeness, but that is a lot of bodies to dispose of in order to get a title and lands with no notable fortune attached. A man might spend his time and effort on more worthwhile pursuits with more profitable results.”
“And Father’s assets?” Jack was having a hard time believing his father had left this world, destitute.
“That’s a mystery I haven’t solved yet either.” Reaching out a hand, Winston grasped Jack’s shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. “I’m just damn glad you are here, little Jackie. Of the three of us, you were always the cleverest. You could always figure out Father’s silly coded games. Do you remember those treasure maps he would put together? And you’d have found the bounty before Marcus and I could even figure out the first clue.”
“That’s because I read Treasure Island and the rest of Lord Abingdon’s favorite books. I knew how the old man thought and schemed.” Jackson considered what his brother had just said. “You don’t think that’s what this is, do you? One last treasure hunt for the Bradley boys to embark upon?”
“Possibly,” Winston said, slapping the reins to get the horses to trot the last stretch up the oak-lined drive to the Bradley ancestral home; nearly a castle in its own right. “But it’s more than that. I believe Father knew someone was after the title and estate, since gossip had already been circulating that our wealth was gone before he died. He either purposely started hiding the assets or spent everything in the hopes that whoever this evil relative is would give up their obsession. I’d like you to look at the account books, Jack. You were always the bookkeeper in the family. Honestly, little brother, I don’t know how Father managed to take care of the place without you all these years. Maybe he did lose everything.”
Jack really hoped that was not the case.
Pulling up to the magnificent home, Winston turned to his youngest brother. “I was sorry to hear about your wife. You know I always thought Father was wrong to disown you for marrying Clara. She was a good, sweet girl, and didn’t deserve the things he said about her.”
“Thank you for that, Winston, but I’d rather not discuss my wife presently. Maybe later, when I can face it.” Jack looked away, hoping his older brother wouldn’t see the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. His embarrassment of how he’d treated Adeline just a few days before arriving home, along with his still raw grief, made him withdraw.
“Of course.” Winston stepped down from the buggy and handed the reins to a stable boy. “Just know I’m here for you when you’re ready.”
That was nearly four months ago, and since then they’d gotten very little accomplished in regards to the mystery of the estate assets or who might be responsible for the so-called accidents. They’d all been extra cautious and watched each other’s backs, keeping especially close eyes on the children and Marcus’s wife, Beatrice, who was now due in just a few months. There had been several questionable events over that time, like one night when they’d all gotten terribly ill from some bad mutton, and a mysterious fire one afternoon in the stables when Jackson and Winston had been looking over some new foals. Thankfully, they’d been able to put it out quickly and there had been little damage, but with all the other incidents, they weren’t taking anything for granted.
Jack had spent hours poring over the books and estate records, looking for any clues that his father might have left behind. Winston and Marcus had been delving into the family tree, looking for any male who might inherit if all the Bradley men were to die.
“Father had no siblings, no cousins, and I can’t locate a single descendant who is known whom the solicitor could inform if we were all shot in the head tomorrow.” Marcus threw the family Bible across the room in a fit of temper typical for the middle Bradley brother. The three of them were gathered in the library discussing what they’d each uncovered.
Jack smiled at his elder siblings. This was just like old times, except they’d each grown older. Winston’s hair had silver threads running through its blackness and was receding slightly, not to mention a nice fatherly pudginess starting to show around his waistline. With two boys and four girls, it was no wonder he’d grown soft. Marcus still had his figure, but he had always been on the skinny, wiry side, and his mop of unruly curls was more inclined to a dark auburn color as opposed to the black that most of the Bradley men favored—and they all shared the same changeable hazel eyes. Jackson, no matter how many years he had behind him, and with no sisters to coddle and protect, was destined to always be the baby of the family.
“Cousins twice or thrice removed?” Jack asked, still trying to make heads or tails of the estate books.
“Not that I can find, but there has to be something.” Marcus rubbed his shoulder where his arm was still tender from breaking it after his fall. “Maybe there is a by-blow somewhere out there looking for a way to get a piece of the family fortune.”
“Yes, but whose?” Apparently Winston had come to the same conclusion. “Father, Grandfather, or even further back? It couldn’t be one of us, could it? Any youthful mistakes any of us might have made wouldn’t be old enough to come looking for their share yet.”
“No, but what about their mothers?” Jack said, suddenly sitting up straight. “We’ve all been assuming we are looking for a man or a male heir, but what if the perpetrator is a woman? A mistress shunned? Or a maid let go for finding herself in the family way? It happens all the time, and who is to say it was a footman or a groom? The sire could just as easily have been Father or one of you.”
“One of us?!” Winston turned red with bluster, “What about you, Jackie? The pretty boy all the girls went chasing after.”
“You forget how young I was when I fell in love with my wife.” Jackson said, recalling his youth. “I never looked at any other girl but Clara. The first time I saw her I was only sixteen and instantly smitten.” Almost unc
onsciously, an image of Adeline’s soft body pressed against his hardness and her supple mouth opening sweetly assaulted his senses, making his previous statement not quite true any longer.
“Little brat is right,” Marcus grumbled. “I dallied with one or two parlor maids during my youthful indiscretions along with my fair share of fallen women and mistresses.”
“Me as well, but I kept tabs on them, being the heir and all.” Winston grudgingly admitted. “And I’m quite certain I have no bastards running about.”
The two brothers turned to Marcus with raised eyebrows. “Don’t look at me,” he growled. “I may not have been so fastidious with my dalliances, but I didn’t treat any of those ladies badly enough that they’d want to harm me. It was always quite consensual and usually they were the ones to end it. Not being the heir and all, I was never quite as intriguing a conquest, I suppose.”
They all sat, considering other options and gradually the same thought seemed to occur to them at once.
“Father!”
“The old coot must have had some woman on the side.” Winston declared it first. “I’m sure of it. He believed in that sort of thing, having been brought up to think that was way things were done. A man would only pester his wife as long as an heir and a spare were necessary, and I suppose Father saw Jackson here as added insurance.”
“But who?” Jack held up the account books. “I haven’t been able to find anything in this mess. It’s almost as if these aren’t even the real books.”
Marcus and Winston looked at each other strangely, each appearing to have some memory bothering them.
“What?” Jack asked, seeing there was something each of his brothers was thinking but neither thought it was important. “Speak! It would have been just like Father to give you each a small tidbit of information that by itself would mean nothing but put together is a clue to the answer.”
“It’s really nothing,” Winston began, shaking his head as if he were embarrassed to even mention it. “But once, just about a month before he died, the old man sat me down and showed me some old photographs taken maybe ten years ago and kept in one of these old books.” Winston turned and started searching for the album he’d mentioned. “At the time, I thought he was just doing that awkward reminiscing thing you hear about when people start to age and long for their youth.”
“What about you, Marcus?”
“Now that you both are talking about it, there was something odd Father said one night while we were discussing names for the baby.” Marcus closed his eyes, trying to remember the conversation. “He said I should consult the genuine family Bible for ideas. At the time, I assumed he meant this one, as opposed to any old Bible lying around the house.” Marcus walked over to where the book he’d thrown earlier had landed. “But maybe he was implying there was more than one.”
“Okay, gentlemen, let’s find what the hell Father was referring to.” Jack stood and rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got a lot of books to go through, so let’s get started.”
* * *
Adeline was bored, again. Nearly four months of parties, musicals, the opera, and various other entertainments had put her in the way of several eligible noblemen, including the Viscount of Denbigh, whom she had met aboard ship. He was the most dogged of her pursuers, but they were all quite eager to make an impression. Lord Grafton, Lord Craven, and Lord Townshend were not as handsome as the viscount, but Lord Craven had a more pleasing personality, Lord Grafton’s ancestral home was one of the loveliest Addie had ever seen, and Lord Townshend was not nearly as destitute as the others. They had all made a bid for her hand to Father and now all she had to do was decide amongst them which would please her the most.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t help but compare every man she encountered to Jackson Bradley, so none of them had been able to measure up to her ideal. Adeline knew it wasn’t fair of her to do so, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Even though she hadn’t seen him in months, Jack’s presence in her psyche was as strong as if he were in the same room.
Tonight they were attending a ball at Lord and Lady Clifford’s. They had finally managed to break down a small barrier to the domain of the upper ten thousand, but it was just a crack for now. Adeline would actually have to marry one of these gentlemen in order to be fully accepted into that elite group of peers, and even then she knew she would always be referred to as ‘The American’.
What Addie really longed to do was find a group of reformers she could join, but so far she’d had no luck. She was finally ready to resort to asking one of the servants if they might be able to point her in the right direction. It had taken time, but a few of them had finally begun to thaw their ‘stiff upper lips’ and it seemed that the upper staff was taken with their new mistress. Or at least, that is what Emily had confided. Adeline was ready to test that theory out. She just couldn’t take another long day of sitting around waiting for callers who never came as the ladies of the Ton were still not playing nice.
“Dance, Miss James?” Lord Grafton had approached her while she was musing about her plans. Not overly handsome, but tolerable with his thinning brown hair and thick frame, the Duke of Grafton was at least equal in height to Adeline, unlike the Marquis of Townshend, who was several inches shorter.
She smiled and curtsied, and allowed Lord Grafton to lead her onto the dance floor. She noted that it was a pleasant change from American balls as all Englishmen seemed to be good dancers. They spun around the floor until the tune ended, and then the viscount was there to take Lord Grafton’s place. He seemed to show up everywhere she was, and was certainly the most aggressive of her beaus.
“You are lovely, as usual, this evening, Miss James.”
“Thank you, Lord Denbigh,” Adeline responded, quite used to his compliments by now. But recently he had begun to hold her a little too close while they danced and was attempting to take liberties that she was not ready to grant. Like now, he was leaning in close and blowing hot breath into her ear.
“Come take a stroll in the garden with me. It’s a pleasant evening.” The viscount’s grip tightened slightly as if he didn’t want to let her run away.
“Maybe next time,” Adeline said, wondering if he intended to let her go. “I fear I’ve felt a bit under the weather all evening and was just about to beg off when you appeared. But I did so want to dance with you, Lord Denbigh.”
“I’m honored that you chose to end your evening with me, Miss James.” He pulled her just a bit closer and whispered in her ear. “Next time, perhaps you’ll allow me a private moment in the garden?”
Although he had asked, Addie had the distinct feeling that it had not been a question. However, she did not want to upset the man who might very well become her husband someday. “Of course,” she agreed, relieved that he finally pulled away.
“May I call on you tomorrow?” The viscount asked, apparently more eager than she’d first imagined. “I would so enjoy seeing what you’ve done with the house.”
“I—I suppose you may.” Adeline couldn’t think of reason to say no, other than that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with him.
“Excellent,” Lord Denbigh said, bowing over her hand and kissing her gloved fingers. “I shall count the hours until tomorrow.”
Unsure as to what she’d just acquiesced, Adeline sought out her father in the card room to let him know she was going to enlist the chauffeur to drive her home.
“Just make sure you tell him to return for me,” Simon told his daughter right after he folded his hand. “I have to try to win at least one hand before I call it an evening.”
The drive back to their house took no time at all. Emily was there to help her undress and prepare for bed. “Emily—oh, I mean, Stone— remind me to ask Mr. Phillips about workers tomorrow.”
“I don’t know why you want to go looking for that sort of trouble, Miss.” Emily said, finishing the braiding of Adeline’s hair into a single plait for bed. “You should just concentrate on finding a hu
sband for now. After that’s taken care of, you can go off and find yourself a new cause. Who knows, you may even decide you enjoy marriage and won’t want to find anything to distract you. Or maybe you’ll take up a proper charitable activity like orphans or the ladies’ society.”
“Maybe,” Adeline said doubtfully. “But after the viscount’s visit is over, I do want to at least inquire about it, just to find out what the current state of affairs in London is.”
“Very well,” Emily said before she left to find her own bed for the evening.
Adeline woke the next day after more dreams of Jack and Clara. They’d been haunting her for weeks now, each one more cryptic than the previous. They would start out on the ship, usually they were just having tea or taking a stroll on deck, but then they all ended with Clara dying back in New York and then begging Adeline to find something or someone in London. Sometimes she dreamed of being in Jack’s arms again, and feeling so safe and protected. Those were the worst dreams of all, because she always woke from them wondering if she would ever feel that way again in the arms of one of the men destined to become her husband.
This morning she had woken from one of those Jack dreams and she’d floated through the morning feeling quite content and sort of tingly. By the time she was ready for the viscount’s visit, she’d convinced herself that she would give Lord Denbigh a chance to prove that he could make her feel that safe as well. Dressing carefully, she picked out one of her prettiest day gowns. Today she would decide if the viscount was to be the one.
Arriving at precisely three o’clock, Lord Denbigh was his most charming self. Father sat as chaperone, trying not to look bored. But when the viscount suggested a stroll in the garden, Simon eagerly gave his approval. Adeline knew it was an excuse to get her alone, but she was determined to find out if this man would suit her as a husband, so she allowed for the slight indiscretion. Besides, the English weren’t quite as stodgy about these things now that Queen Victoria no longer sat on the throne.
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