His Unexpected Heiress: Entangled Inheritances

by Britton, Sally

  They stared at him, their expressions somewhat befuddled on Graham’s part and surprised on Mrs. Mayworth’s.

  “We will help you in whatever way we can, sir. Of course.” Graham nodded deeply, encouraging Adam to continue.

  “Every member of the staff is loyal to her, are they not? They like her a great deal, too?” Adam asked, well remembering the disdainful looks he had received when it seemed he and Elaine were at odds.

  “There is not a soul in this house who feels differently,” Mrs. Mayworth said staunchly, a proud gleam in her eye. “Your late uncle would have been proud of her, too, sir.”

  Adam knew that to be the truth. Somehow, Peter Gillensford had known precisely what sort of woman Elaine was. She had entered his house and embodied everything Peter and his wife had valued. The genius of the old gentleman would forever astound Adam.

  “If you all feel that way, is it possible to use the traditional lines of gossip, or relationships between houses, and have other servants spread word of her to their employers? Would something like that work to help others see her more favorably?” As Adam put his question to them, speaking it out loud sounded a little ridiculous. When the housekeeper and butler exchanged a significant glance, he wondered if they were about to tell him how daft a plan it was.

  “Mr. Gillensford.” Graham took on an expression Adam had never seen him wear before; the butler appeared on the verge of laughing. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but your idea has come to us a fortnight after we worked it out on our own. There is not a footman, groom, or kitchen maid without instruction to speak as highly of Miss Chapple as possible, in public and private.”

  “We had a meeting,” Mrs. Mayworth added, her eyes twinkling merrily. “We put it to a vote, sir. It was all quite diplomatic. Everyone decided in favor of helping Miss Chapple.”

  Graham tucked his hands behind his back, chest puffed up. “If a servant goes to the butcher, she tells anyone she meets how pleased she is with her mistress. If the driver stops at the pub on his way home, he extols the virtues of his employer. We have all done our best.”

  Now Adam felt foolish. Of course, the servants would see the need, and fill it. “I am terribly sorry I underestimated your dedication to her.” Adam chuckled and scratched the back of his neck, uncertain what more to say in the face of this good news.

  Then Mrs. Mayworth surprised him further. “I believe Miss Chapple’s friends are doing the same. I have heard that Mrs. Bartleby took tea with the Baroness. It came back to us through one of the footmen,” she added helpfully. “Mrs. Bartleby extolled Miss Chapple’s manners and thoughtfulness. People genuinely like her, sir.”

  “And people generally dislike my mother and brother,” Adam murmured, leaning back against the pantry door. “It cannot be that simple. Not after all the hours we have spent worrying over what would happen, how people might look down on her.”

  “There are those who will.” Graham heaved a sigh. “I hope Miss Chapple will know that those such people are not worth worrying over.”

  Social reputation was everything in Adam’s world. It always had been. Noble blood was a stronger claim to respect and dignity than funds. Yet, as he considered the butler’s words, he could see the sense in them. Generations of breeding, a lifetime of rules, made him resistant to believing it.

  “Thank you.” Adam looked between them. “Both of you. Everyone. I cannot explain what this news means to me, but I am grateful for all that you have done for Miss Chapple.”

  “We would have done the same for your uncle, sir.” Mrs. Mayworth took a step closer to him, fixing Adam in place with her stare. “And for you, Mr. Gillensford, now that you are come back to Tertium Park.”

  Adam’s throat closed up, but he managed to thank them before he slipped out the door. He found his way above stairs, quite forgetting about any sort of breakfast, and went to the steward’s office.

  His mother would exert her influence against Elaine. He had no doubt of that. And he must tell Elaine of his mother’s suggestion that they wed. What would she make of it? She would not change her mind. But perhaps she would wish to delay their engagement even longer.

  The day he took Elaine to wife, even if it was ages away, Adam knew would be the happiest of his life. He would wait upon her. In her new world, Elaine must be comfortable and secure before she made such a decision.

  He could wait. After all, he was hopelessly in love with her.

  Chapter 19

  “I am not certain this is right.” Elaine stepped away from the dressing table, trying to resist touching her hair where it curled and dipped in an intricate twist on top of her head, several more tightly wound curls escaping to tickle the skin just behind her ear. “Matrons do not wear their hair like this.”

  Miss Flyte and Polly Benton, her lady’s maid, both stared back at her with nearly identical expressions of dismay.

  “Of course, matrons never look like that,” Miss Flyte said with a firm nod. At two and twenty, she had much more experience in society than Elaine ever would. Or so it seemed. “You are not a matron. You are a highly eligible woman.”

  “A spinster,” Elaine corrected quickly, running her hand down the lace-overlay of her gown. Beneath the lace was a beautiful silk fabric, a light blue that bordered on the color gray. “Do spinsters dress in such a way? Or put flowers in their hair?” She gestured to the tiny white rosebuds artfully woven into the braids and curls of her hair.

  Polly—or Benton, as she was supposed to be called now—started shaking her head in a most disapproving manner. “Spinsters are without hope of securing a match, mistress. You are not a spinster.”

  Elaine lifted her gloves from the table, trying not to look in the mirror again. “I do not know what I am,” she whispered to herself as she began tugging the gloves into place. Her nerves kept causing her stomach to do odd things. She had hardly eaten a bite at dinner and heartily wished she had the children for a distraction. It seemed silly that they had to eat separately for propriety’s sake. At least she had Miss Flyte to join her for meals.

  “I rather hoped I would blend into the wallpaper.” She spoke that phrase loudly enough that both the other women in the room heard and laughed. Miss Flyte rose and came forward, holding her hands out to take Elaine’s.

  “We cannot have that, Miss Chapple. You are an elegant woman, and this is your night to show all of Orford that you belong here.” She gave Elaine’s hands a gentle squeeze. “I have only been part of the household a matter of days, but even I know how important this is for you.”

  “Because I keep rattling on about it.” Elaine felt her cheeks warm. “I am sorry for that.”

  Benton came forward with a fan and reticule made to match the dress. “I would wager it is normal to be nervous, mistress. It is your first ball.”

  With a teasing smile, Miss Flyte released Elaine’s hands as she spoke. “At least you have a handsome escort.”

  Yes, she had Adam. He would arrive in her carriage, sent earlier that evening to retrieve him. Since his mother’s uncomfortable visit, he had stopped using the family carriage and rode his horse. When he told Elaine of the circumstances, that he might have difficulty taking her to the Carringtons’ ball, she had given him full use of her entire stables.

  He hadn’t asked her to dance yet. She hoped he would. They had worked so hard on her dancing. If she looked up and beheld any man other than Adam as her partner she might well forget every step of even the most remedial country dances.

  Elaine and Miss Flyte descended to the library to wait for Adam. He had mentioned coming earlier than necessary in order to discuss a matter of business with her. What business had to wait until right before a ball she did not know. But if Adam asked her to appear in sackcloth and wait upon the garden wall for him, she would.

  He had been so cheerful earlier that day, speaking to her of the ball as though he already knew that she would count it a successful evening. Miss Flyte had sat in the room with them, pretending not to hear while she e
mbroidered an apron for her younger sister. When Adam took his leave, he had even whispered “I love you” to her, and those three words had carried her through the rest of the day.

  No matter what happened, Adam loved her. He wanted to marry her.

  How could she let him do such a thing when neither of them knew what might happen next? Yet she longed to tell him to announce their betrothal, to have the banns read for all to hear. Adam, her wonderful Adam, belonged at her side as she belonged at his. She had already written to Tuttle-Kirk, without telling Adam she did so, to determine what their marriage would mean for the will and if a paper such as Adam mentioned really needed to be signed. She trusted Adam would never take advantage of her or the inheritance left her by his uncle.

  "You are strangling your fan, Miss Chapple,” her companion noted, amusement in her voice. “Would you like me to hold it?”

  Elaine looked down at the lovely, lacey, impractical accessory and released it quickly. She opened it, inspecting the fan for injury, tears, or breaks. Thankfully, it appeared unharmed. “I will try to manage it,” she said, laying the fan down upon a table. “Poor little fan.”

  The door to the library opened and Graham strode in, executing one of his perfect bows. “Mr. Gillensford has arrived.” Adam stepped in as the butler announced, bowing to the ladies in the room.

  Oh, he looked handsomer than ever in formal evening wear. The sparkling blue stick-in in his cravat matched the deep blue of his waistcoat, and the black coat defined his stature perfectly. His hair had that windblown look he favored, and she rather wished she could touch it either to make a greater mess of it or to smooth it out. Maybe someday she would.

  His eyes took her in, lingering on her hair, and then he came forward with one hand outstretched. “Elaine, you are always beautiful. Tonight, you are enchanting.” She put her gloved hand in his, feeling her cheeks grow hot beneath his admiring gaze. He led her back to her seat upon the couch, and only then did she notice in his other hand a sheaf of papers.

  “Thank you, Adam.” She smoothed out the lacey overlay and tried to will away the blush.

  Adam bowed to Miss Flyte, greeting her kindly and complimenting how lovely she appeared, too. Miss Flyte curtsied and retook her chair as Adam settled next to Elaine.

  “I have something for you,” he said, settling the papers upon his lap. “I think most men would have sent something—ribbons for your hair, perhaps a piece of jewelry—but this is better. At least, I hope it is.” He chuckled at himself and Elaine reached out, touching him lightly on the arm.

  “You do not have to give me anything, Adam.” His love was more than enough, more than anything she could ever hope or wish for.

  He chuckled. “Good, because what this is—it is something you will have to look over and decide whether or not you want to do it, with your own funds. All I am really giving you is an idea.” He handed her the papers and she leaned toward the table with the lamp upon it. Though the room was well lit for the evening, the extra light helped her to read.

  She frowned and wondered if she held the right paper in her hands. “A lease on a house in Ipswich. A large house, practically in the countryside.” She glanced at him, but he only nodded toward the rest of the stack she held. Elaine shuffled the papers and started reading again.

  “‘A proposal to the town fathers,’” she read aloud, “‘that a school be established by Miss Elaine Chapple of Orford, for the betterment of the local children’s education.’ Adam, what does this mean? The churches in Ipswich have Sunday schools.”

  “This is not a Sunday school. This is a school for children like your little button girl you worry so often about,” he told her quietly. “A school for learning to read and write and learning a trade. You can hire tutors and teachers of any subject and feed the children at least one hearty meal a day. You have the funds to run the school entirely on your own, but I know you would find help.

  “Elaine.” He said her name softly, as though it were precious to him. “People have but to know you and they want to be better versions of themselves.”

  Heart and soul rejoiced when Adam admitted his love for her, and somehow every time she spoke to him, she loved him more. Presenting her with such an incredible plan, thoughtful and generous, made him still more perfect in her eyes.

  A tear fell onto her cheek and she hastily wiped it away, smiling as she did. Adam’s touch upon her sent warmth coursing through her. “Thank you, Adam. This is a wonderful, wonderful gift. I cannot tell you what it means to me.”

  “It is only an idea,” he said quietly. “And now you will make it your own. I will do everything in my power to help. I promise.”

  She took in a shaky breath and would have kissed him out of pure happiness, but she remembered Miss Flyte, and the ball. If only they were already married, matters would be so much simpler.

  “May I have the honor of standing up with you for the first set, Miss Chapple?” Adam asked, a smile on his lips that plainly said he already knew her answer.

  “Yes, Mr. Gillensford. But if you do not want to miss the first set, we had better be on our way.” She pressed his hand and leaned in to kiss his cheek, trusting Miss Flyte to pretend she did not see.

  * * *

  Escorting the woman he loved to the ball, Adam could only sit and regard her with wonder in the dim interior of the carriage. She sat with her companion, quiet and contemplative, directly across from him. The gown she wore was stunning, but it did not matter what she wore; Elaine Chapple was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, in body and spirit, and no gown could improve upon what was already quite perfect.

  The moment Adam walked into the Carringtons’ ballroom, Elaine on one arm and Miss Flyte on the other, Philippa appeared at his side. She had come with their mother, of course, who had refused to speak to Adam about the possibility of his joining them. His sister did not wait to even greet them properly before she took Elaine’s free arm in her own.

  “Miss Chapple, had I not known this ball was in honor of a happily engaged couple, I would have thought it was in your honor,” she said quietly, her words pouring out in a rush. “At every attempt my mother brings up your name, there are the most glowing accounts of your reputation.”

  Elaine’s cheeks turned pink and her lips formed a small “o” in her surprise. “That cannot be. I do not know everyone here.” She glanced about, as though expecting a room full of strangers.

  Did she not know how her simple kindnesses changed the lives of those around her? The natural curiosity of the neighborhood meant that people sought out word about the new woman in their midst, that they asked one another what they knew, and somehow the gossip had not been full of cruel speculation.

  The servants had done their part, and Elaine treated everyone she encountered amiably.

  Lord Carrington called for the attention of all present. “Tonight we have come together to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of my daughter, Lady Elizabeth, to Mr. Bertram.” As he went on to thank everyone for their attendance upon the happy couple, Elaine moved closer to Adam to whisper to him.

  “I am absolutely terrified.”

  Adam gave her his most reassuring smile, bending to speak softly to her. “You should not be, my dearest Elaine. I am here with you, and I love you.”

  Her eyes gleamed up at him, almost silver in the bright flickering lights of the ballroom.

  The engaged couple appeared at the top of the room to lead the dance. A minuet, as was proper, even if most present thought it outdated. Miss Flyte stepped away with Philippa, allowing Adam to lead Elaine to the floor.

  Standing across from her, Adam marveled that he had somehow found her favor, even after beginning their acquaintance in such strange circumstances. If he could have spoken to his uncle one more time, he would have thanked the old man for bringing Elaine to Orford, to Tertium Park, and to Adam. When the day came to read their banns at last, to announce to all the world that they belonged to one another, Adam would be happier than he de
served.

  The dance began, and Elaine’s expression turned to one of concentration. She made no mistakes, moving in time with the rest of the ladies, pointing her slippered foot at the right moments and weaving through the line. When they joined hands, Adam tightened his hold on her fingers just enough to signal his encouragement.

  Midway through the dance, halfway down their line, Elaine finally started to smile. Adam returned one of his own to her. When the musicians finished, the next dance called, she had relaxed a great deal more.

  The people around them had started to notice, too.

  “Who is your partner, Mr. Gillensford?” the gentleman to his right asked quietly. “Is that Miss Chapple?”

  As she crossed hands and steps, Elaine’s happiness apparent to all, Adam heard more than one word of approval as the people in the line identified her. Elaine must have as well. Her cheeks pinked and her eyes lowered from time to time.

  When the set was at an end, Adam began to lead her from the floor. He was waylaid at once by gentlemen seeking an introduction. Although unsurprised, introducing her as a friend rather than his betrothed smarted.

  “It is an honor, Miss Chapple. You dance quite beautifully. Would you do me the honor of joining with me in the next set?”

  Similar phrases were spoken each time Elaine was returned to Adam as the bachelors of the neighborhood came to know her. Each time Elaine would blush and accept.

  “You see what you have done,” a voice said at his side. Adam did not need to look to know his mother had found her way to him. “Any one of these men might court her and wed her for that fortune. It could have been yours, Adam.”

  Rather than upset him, his mother’s bitterness amused him. He would wed Elaine, and not a penny of her inheritance would be his. Perhaps he would have what his uncle left him in investments, perhaps not. Tuttle-Kirk would be consulted. But the money did not matter so much anymore.