His Unexpected Heiress: Entangled Inheritances

by Britton, Sally

  Adam stared at her, somewhat incredulously. Then he slouched, putting his elbows on his legs and leaning forward, hands tucked under his chin. “That is not what I would write at all.”

  The somewhat petulant expression upon his face coaxed a smile onto hers. “What would you say, Adam? ‘Heiress requires husband. References necessary.’” She raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise. “Oh, that might do the trick.”

  “Elaine—”

  “Perhaps, ‘Come Raise Children With A Wealthy Woman.’ And when did I give you permission to use my Christian name?” She folded her arms and tilted her chin up, trying to dispel the rather morose thoughts crowding in upon her.

  Who would want to marry her? Even for all the money at her disposal, she could not imagine finding a man willing to put up with everything which made her a terrible catch. Her origins, the children, all three of them orphans without family. Even the things she would put in a marriage contract were likely to make a man reconsider her as a matrimonial subject.

  “You called me Adam this morning,” he said, lowering his voice. “And again, only a moment ago. I thought if you were allowed to take such liberties, I might as well.”

  She felt the blush return to her cheeks. “Did I? I apologize for that forward behavior.”

  “I rather hoped it meant we were friends,” he said, one corner of his mouth tipping upward.

  Elaine considered him a moment, thinking on his kindness to the children, his insistence that she find joy in her new life. If it had all been an act to earn his way into her good graces, it was a very believable one. “We are friends, Adam,” she said at last, reaching out to take his hand.

  He did not hesitate to entwine his fingers with hers. “Thank you. That means a great deal to me.”

  Rain started to fall, large drops of it spattering against the glass before running down the side in thin rivulets. Thunder sounded, near enough that Elaine startled. Adam’s hand squeezed hers as though to offer reassurance.

  “Elaine?” He spoke her name in such a way that she nearly shivered for the pleasure of hearing it. Oh, this was so dangerous. His attractiveness had been difficult to ignore, his compassion impossible to discard, and those things combined with the way he spoke to her would send her heart onto a difficult path. A hopeless path.

  “Yes?” She kept her eyes on the raindrops until he drew her hand toward himself, holding it nearly against his heart. With reluctance, she met his clear blue eyes. The intensity in his gaze quite surprised her.

  He watched her carefully a moment, then he released her hand and stood. “We will think of something, Miss Chapple. In the meantime, let us concern ourselves with tomorrow.” The sudden formality in his tone, in his address, affected her the way a sudden frost might a rose bush. Something within her froze, then withered.

  Confused by his abrupt change in manner, Elaine turned away from him and tried to remember why, exactly, tomorrow was important. “Tomorrow, I am going to church. You will be there. You can start making introductions.”

  Adam nodded. “As you wish.” His jaw went tight, and his gaze darted behind her, to the door, as though he meant to make a dash for escape. Had she done something to offend him? It had been too forward to hold his hand. She knew that. Knew better. Did he think her cloying or clinging?

  She needed to say something. Anything. Speak of another thing upon her list of things she must master, things she must do. “I would appreciate it if you helped me to procure a music instructor and dancing master.”

  “Of course. As to today, seeing as I have taken up enough of your time, I will take my leave of you. Until tomorrow morning, Miss Chapple.” He bowed, stiffly and lower than necessary. Without another word, Adam left the room.

  The previous warmth, trapped in the humidity caused by the plants all crowded together, had dissipated and left her in the cold damp. Alone and hurt, though she knew not why.

  Chapter 10

  Adam pulled himself from bed with great reluctance. Nothing appealed to him less than the idea of seeing Miss Chapple on Sunday morning. He had overstepped his bounds in the conservatory, calling her by her Christian name, holding her hand as though they were courting rather than counseling. His study of the situation, made objectively in his darkened guest bedroom, revealed every misstep. Telling Elaine of his family’s disapproval had perhaps won a little trust, but then he had lost his composure completely, had started suggesting she find someone to marry, and then he thought of nothing else.

  The woman needed friends. Not a husband. She made it clear she did not want or need a man in her life. Yet, she had no one to rely upon, except a solicitor in London and servants. It was his duty to help, and the means of his future livelihood depended upon his actions, too.

  Strange, the order those thoughts came in.

  He dressed, with the aid of one of his brother’s footmen, and waived away the offer of breakfast. Instead he took coffee to drink, hoping to find enough fortitude in the bitter liquid to make it through the rest of the morning.

  The carriage came around, early as he had ordered it. Adam meant to take Elaine and the children to the Sunday morning services in a vehicle bearing the family crest. Let everyone think that the family fully supported her claim to the estate. Some confusion might follow, should his mother arrive and immediately set about correcting everyone on that matter. Yet he thought it wise to start with the best foot forward, and the most favorable impression possible.

  Adam did not get out of the carriage when it arrived in front of Tertium Park. He waited. It was nearly time to leave, and he had no desire to appear overly eager to be in her company again. Lest she get the wrong idea.

  For his part, Adam decided to speak when spoken to. It rankled somewhat to be in a position where he had to act more as a servant than a guide. The past several days in Miss Chapple’s company, he had experienced more confidence than he had in years. He wanted to help her. With her beautiful gray eyes, her earnest confusion over the running of the household, she needed him. But his over-familiarity with her in the conservatory proved he had gone too far and needed to pull back in some fashion.

  At least her manners were as fine as any woman’s of his acquaintance. She spoke a trifle plainly, when the usual habit of young misses was to cloak their meaning in several layers of coy subtext, but that by no means disqualified her abilities as a conversationalist. He quite enjoyed talking to her, actually.

  The front door opened, bringing Adam out of his thoughts. He stepped out of the carriage, though it was not strictly necessary. Anything that would help him keep her favor, and some form of mild friendship, was worth the effort.

  William came tromping down the steps, wearing a dark frown. He stopped and bowed to Adam, then climbed into the carriage.

  “William.” Adam peered inside. “Is something wrong?”

  “Elaine will not allow me to bring a book to church. Except a copy of the New Testament.”

  Adam had to bite back a smile. “Really? I believe that would be what most would advise. If you are reading of the stars, how are you to learn what the sermon teaches you?”

  The boy folded his arms and glared out the window opposite Adam’s side. He said nothing more. Recollecting occasions when Adam had behaved similarly, he let the matter drop.

  “Good morning, Mr. Gillensford,” a sweet voice called to him, and Adam turned to see Nancy hopping down the steps two at a time. She landed on the ground with a thump, then skipped to his side. “I’m supposed to curtsy.” She gave him a rather lovely dip, as well done as any other child’s curtsy. “Thank you for taking us to church.”

  Bowing to the little girl as he would to a lady of rank, Adam answered most sincerely, “It is my great honor, Miss Nancy.”

  She giggled and he handed her up into the carriage. Then he looked back up to the door as Elaine stepped out, sliding her reticule onto her wrist. Her gown he recognized from the day they had gone to the shops together. Those memories nearly made him smile.


  Marching down the steps, Elaine did not glance at him until she stood directly in front of him. “Mr. Gillensford,” she said, nodding slightly to him. “I hope you are well.” She sounded neither sincere nor ironic. Had his behavior upset her?

  “Thank you, Miss Chapple.” He offered his hand to help her step inside. He followed after. Adam and William sat with their backs to the driver, Nancy and Elaine facing forward. As soon as the carriage door shut, they were on their way.

  Nancy swung her feet and stared out the window, a smile on her face. William continued glowering out his side of the carriage.

  Adam meant to keep his gaze directed away from Elaine, but his eyes were drawn in her direction with alarming regularity.

  Her will was stronger than his. He did not catch her peeking at him. Not even once in the ten-minute ride to church. When they passed through Orford without stopping, Elaine finally broke her silence.

  “Is there not a church near the old castle?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she searched out the window.

  “St. Bartholomew’s,” Adam said, naming the old building a trifle more hastily than he meant to. He had no wish to appear too eager to please her. Even if he did want to get back in her good graces. “It is as run down as the castle, I’m afraid. Really, my brother or the Marquess of Hertford ought to see to the repairs, but nothing has been done except talk of pulling it down. We drive two miles north, to Sudbourne. Their church was built near the same time ours was, but it has stayed in somewhat better repair.”

  She nodded her understanding, then went on to remind the children to mind their manners during the services. Not long after, the carriage stopped before an old medieval church, it’s yellow-gray stones nearly a match for the castle in Orford.

  Adam repressed a sigh of frustration. How had he undone everything between them with a single conversation? The matter was not so serious as Elaine’s behavior made it out to be. Perhaps his suggestion of marriage had caused this rejection of his company. She had vehemently refused to entertain the idea, though it was a natural solution to the problem. People married for convenience nearly every day.

  His mind pushed and pulled at the notion that he was at fault for the silence between, that he had been less than intelligent regarding the matter. He had presented her options, acted overly familiar, and had retreated to the safety of propriety in regard to their conversation and his actions today. Right or wrong, there was nothing he could do now except continue on his course.

  He stepped out of the carriage and gave his hand to both females. Elaine did not so much as smile, but Nancy beamed up at him. William stepped down last, less sulky now that he stood before strangers. The boy squared his shoulders and followed his guardian into the church with his head held high.

  Though a few families lingered in the churchyard, none stopped Adam or made an effort to greet Elaine. Plenty of eyes watched them, though, and Adam made a point of smiling and nodding to those he knew. There would be time, after services, to begin introductions.

  Elaine and the children paused, waiting for him inside the door, her emotions tightly guarded from him by a cool expression. “Where do we sit?” she asked.

  He looked down the aisle between old pews. “Uncle Peter gave up his pew a few years ago. My family still rents theirs. Three back from the front, on the left. Since you are with me today, we should sit there. You can discuss a different arrangement with one of the church deacons later.”

  She nodded and continued on her way, he and the children following behind like obedient ducklings trailing after her. They had not been settled in their seats long when the organ music began, and all rose to sing a hymn. The rest of the service dragged along for Adam, and likely for William, too, given the many times the boy yawned. Nancy’s legs swung beneath her, but Elaine set her hand upon the girl’s knee to still the movement. Elaine, for her part, stared at the vicar with single-minded focus.

  Adjusting his posture slightly, Adam tried to pay more attention to the vicar’s words.

  “We are all of us here for a purpose,” the old man said, his voice ringing through the nave. “It is our duty to discover that purpose and strive to fulfill it to the best of our mortal abilities.”

  An interesting thought, but hardly novel. Adam’s mother had taught her children their purpose was to uphold the family name, increase its coffers and holdings where possible, and pass everything along to their progeny. If that was all there was to Adam’s existence, life would be dull indeed.

  “Kindness given to one’s neighbor is the best of all works.”

  His great-uncle’s admonition drifted to the forefront of his mind, and Adam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He remembered when his uncle had said those words to him. It had been years and years ago, on a sunny summer day. Adam and his uncle had been in Orford on an errand. Uncle Peter had stopped walking in order to open a door for a woman entering the bakery. It was no more than what people expected of a gentleman.

  Except Uncle Peter hadn’t stopped because it was expected. He had done it because it was kind. The realization settled over Adam, like a comfortable old coat. Purpose, kindness, and duty circled his thoughts and absorbed him so completely that Adam did not realize it was time to stand and sing again until William nudged him.

  Adam stood hastily and tried to sing the hymn from memory but wound up being silent most of the time. From the corner of his eye, he caught Elaine giving him a perplexed look.

  When services ended, Adam stepped from the pew to allow the children out, then he offered Elaine his arm. She hesitated.

  “I must introduce you,” he said quietly, reminding her of their purpose.

  With a resolute nod, she took his arm and they started their walk to the back of the church. Adam stopped as many times as possible to introduce her to neighbors he had rarely given more than a passing thought about.

  Each time his introduction was the same. “May I present Miss Chapple and her wards, William Thackery and Nancy McComb. Miss Chapple has inherited Tertium Park.” He stated the matter boldly, and with as agreeable a smile as possible. No one could doubt his pleasure in her place, on his arm or in his late great-uncle’s home. Several of the women asked about Elaine’s at-home day, and she named Thursday.

  When Adam came to the middle of the church, Elaine stopped him. “Mrs. Bartleby,” she said, greeting a woman only a few years older than herself. “I am so pleased to see you today.”

  Mrs. Bartleby’s whole face showed her delight at the greeting. “Miss Chapple, good morning. And Miss Nancy. Here is my daughter, Caroline. My husband has slipped outside already, to see to the horses.”

  Caroline, a child obviously near Nancy in age, peeked somewhat shyly around her mother until she was nudged forward. The little girl curtsied and Nancy returned the gesture, the two of them smiling shyly at each other. Children certainly had an easier time of such things than adults.

  Adam stepped away enough to allow the women to chat about the sermon, waiting patiently for Elaine to indicate she was ready to continue. Half the crowd from the church already stood outdoors, speaking with neighbors and climbing into carts and carriages.

  “How nice for Mr. Gillensford to make certain you are looked after,” Mrs. Bartleby said, loud enough for Adam to hear.

  “Yes, Mr. Gillensford has proven a most helpful gentleman.” Elaine’s answer, though not precisely warm, made him smile. Helpful. That meant he met at least that requirement in Uncle Peter’s will. Yet…he was not entirely satisfied by the proclamation. A footman was helpful. What more ought he to do to ensure his inheritance?

  He glanced at Elaine, seeing the back of her bonnet, only a few of her red curls escaping to bounce against her neck as she spoke and gestured. What more ought he to do to ensure Elaine Chapple was happy with her inheritance?

  * * *

  The return trip from Sudbourne’s church proved chattier than the trip there had been. Elaine listened with half an ear as Nancy and William discussed the number of childre
n they had seen, and how many boys and girls of their own ages they had counted. The two of them showed real excitement at the prospect of making friends. Elaine had noted which families had children and began to devise a way to invite them to her home.

  Elaine had one problem, however, not knowing how children’s activities might be handled by someone in her new position. She glanced at Adam, determined to put the question to him, only to find his eyes already upon her.

  Perhaps she had acted too aloof. She had determined to let his attitude govern her own, and he had felt so distant when she entered the carriage. Did he regret their interaction the day before? She needed a friend. In her haste to fill that position, Elaine realized she may have made him uncomfortable.

  He arched an eyebrow at her, curiosity in his gaze.

  “I wonder,” Elaine said, speaking directly to him, “if we might organize some entertainment for the neighborhood children. A picnic, or games, or some such thing.”

  Both of Adam’s eyebrows came down and he frowned.

  She swiftly changed course. “Oh, but if it isn’t done—”

  “I think it is a marvelous idea,” he stated firmly. “An excellent way to get to know your neighbors, and curry favor.”

  “We can have a party?” Nancy asked, her eyes growing almost comically wide. “With all the children we saw today?”

  Elaine did not bother to hide her amusement. “Well, maybe not all of them at once.”

  William sat straighter. “I could have a cricket match.”

  Forgetting her awkward situation with Adam, Elaine cast a smile his way. The cricket equipment would provide a great deal of entertainment. When he intercepted her smile with obvious surprise, however, she remembered how coldly he had withdrawn from her the day before. Why must he act in such a confusing manner?