His Unexpected Heiress: Entangled Inheritances

by Britton, Sally

  Perhaps he might even see Elaine’s smile again that day, though he doubted it would be directed toward him. Still. That thought carried him through the hymns, the scriptures, the prayers, and then the conversation with neighbors that Philippa began the moment the final amen was spoken.

  William and Nancy hurried away to speak to their friends upon the church lawn, and Adam followed after them, hoping the fresh air might soothe his aching heart. Outside, Lord Braybrooke waited near his carriage.

  “Braybrooke,” Adam greeted the gentleman with familiarity. They belonged to the same clubs in London and had both had their education at least in part at Eton and Oxford. “It is good to see you, sir. Thank you for answering my note.” Adam shook the man’s hand.

  “Of course, Gillensford. You know, that favor of yours is hardly something you needed to ask. The keeper would gladly show you about.” Braybrooke, only a few years Adam’s senior, glanced about the churchyard with interest. “Where is this heiress you mentioned?”

  Adam turned to find Elaine still near the step. “There, with my sister.”

  “Ah, I see her. The woman with the red hair? She is lovely. I have heard she used to be a seamstress.”

  Gossip traveled quickly, but Adam did not bristle. Braybrooke was no threat to Elaine and might even be a help to her if he spoke to her in front of so many.

  “Come, let me introduce you,” Adam offered, gesturing to Braybrooke to precede him. They crossed the grassy expanse with purpose, until they were near enough for Elaine to turn an expectant expression on Adam. “Lord Braybrooke, allow me to introduce my friend, Miss Elaine Chapple. Miss Chapple, this is Baron Braybrooke.”

  “A pleasure, Miss Chapple,” the baron said, bowing slightly at the waist as she curtsied. “I am very pleased to know you. How are you finding our part of the county?” They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, Adam pleased to note people were observing the exchange. The baron did not rank as highly as Adam’s family, but he held a great deal of respect in the community.

  “I do hope you enjoy your afternoon, Miss Chapple,” the baron said at last. Then he bowed to Philippa. “Lady Philippa, always a pleasure.” He shook Adam’s hand and then made his way to his carriage, emblazoned with his family’s crest.

  “My head is spinning with names and titles,” Elaine whispered to Philippa barely loudly enough for Adam to hear. “Do all members of the nobility know each other as you seem to?”

  Philippa looped her arm through Elaine’s. “I am afraid so, but that does not mean we all like each other. You really did not meet so many people, darling. A baronet, his wife, the baron, the dowager countess, the fifth son of an earl. All excellent neighbors, I assure you.”

  Still, Elaine’s expression remained tight and without her customary smile in place. “Thank you for all your help, Lady Philippa.”

  An afternoon at the seaside might be exactly what Elaine needed. It pained him to be the cause of her troubles just when she had begun to feel comfortable in her new home and position. He had to make things right, had to help her find her footing again. “Ladies, let me return you to the carriage and then I will find the children.”

  Elaine started, then her eyes swept the church lawn. “I hope they have not gone far. I completely forgot to keep an eye on them.” Her face paled slightly, and she took a step as though she intended to search for them herself.

  “I am certain they are only speaking with their friends. Please, go with Philippa and we will join you in a moment.” Adam gave her his most reassuring smile as he bowed and gestured in the direction of their carriage.

  His sister assisted by gently tugging Elaine that way. “Come, come. Adam will have his way, stubborn as he is.” She then launched into a discussion on the topic of fabric, and Elaine reluctantly allowed herself to be led away.

  Adam made short work of finding Nancy, who stood beneath the shade of a tree with several other little girls discussing whatever it was little girls discussed. Adam bowed to her.

  “Miss Nancy, I require the pleasure of your company, and your assistance. Will you help me find your brother?” It had become apparent very quickly that Nancy enjoyed all of his attempts to treat her with the same deference he might show a lady of rank. She agreed and slipped her hand into his.

  William turned up around the corner of the church, listening enthusiastically to a boy who described cricket matches at his boarding school. Adam did nothing to single William out, but waited to be noticed. He remembered being that age. It was not comfortable to have an adult call him to order but leaving his friends’ company of his own accord had never caused a problem.

  When William saw Adam, he straightened his posture and made his farewells to the others. Then he joined Adam and Nancy, and in less than a minute Adam had them both in the carriage.

  “There you are,” he said as he swung inside. “I have found both our wayward children.” He outright grinned at Elaine, like a fool hoping for praise.

  Color flooded her cheeks, her freckles disappearing within her blush. But no smile appeared. “Thank you, Mr. Gillensford.” Then she turned from him, showering her attention and conversation on Nancy to learn what the girl had been up to.

  Adam’s heart smote him most unkindly. When his sister raised her eyebrows at him, affecting an innocent expression so contrived he had only seen its likeness on stage, Adam huffed and folded his arms. Philippa might pretend not to know what was happening, but she likely had guessed.

  The phaeton started moving, the early summer breeze hardly ruffling the ladies’ hat ribbons. The driver had been instructed ahead of time of where to go, and no one would notice the change in the route until they were through Orford village proper.

  Aware that he could not truly make amends toward Elaine while others were present to hear, Adam gave himself over to his thoughts, staring out the side of the carriage. Until Nancy noticed.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Gillensford?” she asked sweetly. That brought all attention to him, with even Elaine darting a quick look at him before she lowered her gaze again. “You look upset.”

  “I am perfectly well, thank you.” He sighed and shifted slightly. “Although I am thinking over a difficult situation.”

  “Oh. Miss Mallet says when something is difficult, you ought to ask for help.” Nancy folded her lace-gloved hands in her lap and sat up primly, and Adam couldn’t help but smile when she batted her eyes at him expectantly. There was something in the way she held herself that reminded him strongly of Elaine. The children might not be hers by blood, but they certainly were in spirit.

  Did Elaine know how much they did her credit, with their thoughtful ways and modest behavior?

  “I thank you for the advice, miss.” Adam bowed his head. “If I puzzle over the problem too long, rest assured that I will come to you for assistance. I wish to try at it on my own a little longer.”

  The child nodded almost gravely. “I understand. I like to do things all on my own, too. Do you know what Elaine says about that?” she asked, glancing sideways at her guardian, who only raised her eyebrows with interest. Nancy grinned. “Elaine says trying to do everything on my own is pure stubbornness and it rarely does anyone any favors.”

  With a gasp, Elaine shook her head, “Nancy, you mustn’t—”

  Philippa’s shoulders started shaking even before her laugh burst from her. “Oh, it is precisely true. Well done, Nancy. You have hit upon one of my brother’s flaws. When he sets his mind on a course, you can be certain he will keep to it, no matter how many walls he must climb or dismantle to achieve his way.”

  Why did he think having Philippa along would be a good idea?

  But he counted Philippa’s presence a blessing when Elaine started to laugh, too.

  Elaine glanced his way, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Then I am grateful to have Mr. Gillensford on our side.” She took up Nancy’s hand in hers. “But while we are on the topic, I do not wish to be a hypocrite. Nancy, why do I warn you so often about your stub
bornness?” she asked, a smile still teasing at her lovely pink lips.

  The child took on the air of one reciting something from memory. “Because you have learned by experience by being too stubborn yourself.”

  Philippa gasped dramatically, raising a hand to her cheek. “Do not say it is so, Miss Chapple. I have two stubborn, independent thinkers to manage? Dear me. What a lot of work you both will be.”

  The hidden meaning of Philippa’s words was not lost on Adam. He felt heat creep up the back of his neck and he opened his mouth to offer a retort when he saw Elaine’s cheeks turn pink. Maybe he ought to have explained the strained relationship to Phillipa, if only to spare Elaine further humiliation.

  Narrowing his eyes, Adam glared at his sister. She smiled as sweetly as ever and tilted her chin up, daring him to say a word.

  William, apparently oblivious to the conversation about him, sat up suddenly. “We have passed the turn for home.” Nancy leaned forward to peer out the side of the carriage, and Elaine looked too, brows furrowing.

  “That is because I have a special surprise for everyone,” Adam announced, cutting his sister one last look which promised a most serious discussion in future. “There is a picnic tucked up with Harris.” He nodded in the driver’s direction. “And we are on our way to the seaside.”

  The children gasped, Nancy bounced happily upon her seat, and Adam watched Elaine carefully for her reaction. Her lips parted as her eyes met his, soundlessly entreating to know if it was true. He nodded once, his lungs tightening as he waited for her possible rejection of the idea. At last her smile appeared, hesitant as the sun breaking through clouds, and with a similar warming effect upon him. He had done something right at last, it would seem.

  “We are going to the Orfordness high lighthouse, too,” he explained, only looking at her. “Baron Braybrooke owns both the high and low lighthouses. I asked if we might go up inside the newer of the two.”

  “May we, Elaine?” William asked at his side, eager as anything. “Please?”

  “Of course we will,” Elaine said, breaking eye contact with Adam to speak to the boy. “I have never been inside a lighthouse. I imagine it will be an adventure.”

  The children began asking questions, about the sea, the purpose of lighthouses, why there were two lighthouses, and on and on. Adam kept himself busy answering everything he could, their enthusiasm chasing away the last of his earlier sullenness.

  A picnic, exploring the lighthouse, and a walk along the shore, were all splendid activities for the children. Perhaps, if he was fortunate, he might even manage some time to have a private conversation with Elaine.

  A man could hope, anyway.

  Chapter 17

  Though she had seen no need to bring a parasol for herself or Nancy to church, Elaine regretted the lack of one as soon as she knew their destination. She did not mind too much for herself, but Nancy ought to avoid freckling if possible. Elaine had been teased quite frequently for her freckles as a girl at school.

  However, when Harris produced the picnic basket, he also handed down two parasols. Someone had been thoughtful of her needs, and when she received the frilly umbrellas from Adam, she could well guess it had been him. Something she had appreciated quite early on about him was his attention to even little details. No question had been too trivial for him to answer. And he worked tirelessly to understand her household so he might explain it to her.

  Though imperfect, Adam had never ceased to put himself at her service.

  The picnic was delightful, and it doubtlessly would have been even better if Elaine had kept her head about her where Adam was concerned. But Philippa’s teasing from two days before had sunk deeply into her mind. His confession further complicated the situation. Loving a man who might never love her back would only cause continued pain.

  Adam kept casting anxious glances in her direction, and she sensed his desire to speak to her, to perhaps again assure her of his loyalty. Perhaps he would again proclaim his desire to prove himself to her.

  How was she to fight away her love for him if he insisted on doing such things?

  Elaine’s experience with gentlemen was limited, and her knowledge of falling in love with one was even less developed. What she did know, what all of society and common knowledge had taught her, was that she could never really hope to make a match with the son of an earl.

  Adam’s affection laid beyond her reach. What was Elaine to him? A seamstress, born of a tailor, who had come from another tailor, who likely sprang from a draper or yet another tailor. Her family tree hardly mattered when compared to his; Adam could likely trace his ancestry back to William the Conqueror.

  Those pragmatic thoughts and assurances stayed with her as she nibbled at the sandwiches and cakes made in the earl’s kitchens. Lemonade from a flask washed everything down. Then the children begged to go to the lighthouse, visible from their patch of grass just above the beach.

  Everyone rose, but Philippa took up Nancy’s hand and asked if the little girl wanted to race to the tall, circular tower of stone. William ran off before Elaine could protest, and then Nancy and Philippa ran after him laughing as they kicked up sand in their wake.

  That left Elaine standing next to Adam, nothing between them but the briny sea air.

  Hesitantly, Elaine raised her eyes to his. “They are quite eager. You planned this excursion well.” Without a word, Adam offered her his arm. She took it, pulling her gaze from his as they started walking. “They will have had the whole tour by the time we catch up to them.” She swallowed away what she truly needed to say, what she had decided in the darkest hours of night.

  “Miss Chapple,” Adam said abruptly, apparently taking no notice of her babbling. “If you are uncomfortable in my presence, I understand. I will take you to the lighthouse and then wait in the phaeton, if you wish. I do not want to spoil your enjoyment of the day.”

  She bit her lip and shook her head quickly.

  He sighed, the sound filled with doubt and disappointment. “Are you certain you do not wish me to leave?”

  “I am well enough in your company,” Elaine answered truthfully. “I have need to speak to you of something important, too.”

  They continued in silence for several more paces, the sand slowing their already plodding pace. When Adam spoke again, his voice was quieter, and almost difficult to hear over the distant rush of waves. “Will you tell me what I must do to repair the trust broken between us?”

  His words tore at her heart. She had to answer him. How could she let him go on thinking he had done something that could not be fixed? That she did not understand his reasons and forgave him?

  But what could she say without revealing the whole of her heart to him?

  The children and Philippa disappeared ahead of them, into the small building attached to the lighthouse itself. Leaving Adam and Elaine, in all practicality, alone.

  “You have already done all that is required,” she answered, measuring her words carefully. “I have weighed your words, your actions, and I forgive you.” The last three words she whispered, though no less certain of that decision.

  Adam’s arm tensed beneath her hand and she saw his jaw tighten. Her words had not satisfied him.

  “I truly forgive you, Adam.” Elaine looked up at him, unable to help admiring his handsome profile as they walked. Her heart gave a rather unforgiving thump when she reminded herself what else she must say.

  “It cannot be so easy, even with one as kind as you.” He kept walking forward, staring straight out to sea. “You are important to me, Miss Chapple. Your concerns are mine, your battles mine, and your hurts—they are mine, too, even when I am the cause of them.”

  The sentiments were quite wonderful, and Elaine knew Adam Gillensford to be a man of his word, a man of honor. Yet he did not mean such words as she wished he did.

  “I appreciate your efforts.” Elaine lowered her gaze to the sand stretching out before them, dry and sifting away from her feet with each step. The
y were nearly to the lighthouse now. “But they are not necessary. I have grown far too reliant upon your chivalry, Mr. Gillensford. Perhaps, after the ball, we might not see so much of each other.” It hurt to suggest such a thing. “I have been thinking about the will, actually. I plan to write Mr. Tuttle-Kirk this very week.” She cleared her throat, readying to speak words that would wound her. “I am going to ask if we might arrange for your service to end sooner. I am not as hopeless as I was in the beginning, and I cannot imagine stealing a whole year of your life away from you.”

  Adam released her arm and took up her hand in a movement too quick for her to follow. She prepared herself before raising her eyes to his, wondering if she would see gratitude in his eyes at the chance of a reprieve.

  No, it was not gratitude at all.

  “Please, Elaine. Do not do that.” He had gone pale, and his eyes mirrored back at her the pain she had felt when she realized distance would be necessary to heal her bruised heart. “I know I have hurt you, but please, give me the chance to make it right. Don’t send me away.”

  Her heart fluttered hopefully before she caught it in her practicality. No, his protest did not mean he felt as she did. “You would still receive your inheritance—”

  He muttered a word gentlemen normally did not say in the presence of a lady. “This isn’t about the inheritance. I will not lie and say its loss would be easy, but I would rather forfeit all my uncle’s money than lose you.”

  Escaping her mental grasp, her heart nearly took flight. Adam would choose her over his inheritance? It did not seem possible.

  “I beg you to forgive me. Tell me how to regain your favor. But do not send me away.”

  Elaine’s lips parted in surprise at his earnest speech. “You cannot wish to stay. Not really.”

  The voices of the children erupted from above; they had obviously obtained the top of the lighthouse.

  Adam glanced up, as did she. The children were not in sight yet. He took her hand and hurried her steps along, necessitating that she lift her skirts to keep up with his longer stride. He did not stop until he reached the outer wall of the lighthouse. He turned, his back against the stone of the tall building. No one above could possibly see them.