“I shall make you a promise,” Jared said.

“If you find a lady I can love as much as my father loved my mother, I shall marry her—and if she has a fortune so much the better….”

“You will look for a wealthy bride?”

“You will look for one for me,” Jared said, and his expression was once again inscrutable. “Present the right lady and I will marry her.”

“Oh…” Hester looked at him. He seemed to be serious for once. She did not know why she felt reluctant to agree, but he was clearly waiting for her answer. “I shall try….”

“Good,” Jared said, settling back and closing his eyes.

Hester frowned. How annoying he was! They were just beginning to get to know one another and now he was refusing to talk to her. And after he had thrown her into confusion by kissing her in such a way that it made her pulse race. He really was too bad! She bit her bottom lip, feeling at odds with herself. She should be pleased that he had almost given his word to stay and marry an heiress if she could find the right one, but somehow she had an awful sinking sensation inside.

The Unknown Heir

Harlequin® Historical

MILLS & BOON

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Author Note

This is a special year for authors, readers and lovers of romance. Harlequin is sixty years old, and this is certainly a cause for celebration. No other publisher has consistently given us the high-quality romance fiction we have come to expect and love from Harlequin.

As an author, I am thrilled to write for a large international company that retains its family atmosphere. Regency stories continue to flourish, and in this anniversary year I am proud to be contributing The Unknown Heir. I hope you will continue to enjoy my books throughout this year and the years to come.

I really appreciate my readers and love to hear what you think of my books. You can find out more about me at my Web site, www.lindasole.co.uk.

The Unknown Heir
Anne Herries

ANNE HERRIES

Award-winning author Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire, England. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books—although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment and to give pleasure to her readers. She invites readers to contact her on her Web site: www.lindasole.co.uk.

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

Hester Sheldon placed the vase of perfect chrysanthemums on a table in front of the parlour window, gazing out at the sodden grass and dripping trees that fronted the beautiful old house. Shelbourne had been built in the reign of Queen Anne and had all the grace and beauty of its period, though it was looking faded and had suffered some fire damage recently. Hester loved her home, but of late a dark cloud seemed to hang over them, for the family had been deeply affected by the death of her stepfather some months previously. The tragedy had quite possibly led to the Duke of Shelbourne’s illness, and it was these things that made the house she adored seem so empty at times.

‘Miss Hester?’

She turned as the housekeeper came into the room, prepared to deal with whatever might be asked of her since the burden of the estate had fallen on her shoulders these past weeks. Lady Sheldon had been delicate since the death of her husband, and the duke was unable to do more than advise her from his bedchamber.

‘Yes, Mrs Mills? Is there something wrong?’

‘His Grace has asked that you go up to him as soon as you have a minute, miss.’

‘Yes, of course. I shall go now,’ Hester said. ‘And my compliments to Cook, Mrs Mills. The beef was excellent last night. Grandfather particularly remarked on it.’

‘I am sure she will be pleased to hear that, miss.’

Mrs Mills stood back for Hester to leave the room, shaking her head as she went into the hall and up the stairs. It was hardly fair the way they all expected Miss Sheldon to do everything these days. Not that she was a girl, as she had passed her twenty-sixth birthday, and it was unlikely that she would marry, which was, in Mrs Mills’s opinion, a proper shame.

Hester was smiling as she went quickly along the landing to the stairs leading to the top floor of the west wing, which held the duke’s private apartments. He seldom left them these days, because his illness had taken the strength from his legs and he had to be carried down the stairs—something he did not enjoy. She knocked and was admitted by the duke’s valet, who smiled at her.

‘How is he this morning, Simmons?’

‘Oh, much the same as usual, miss. He will be all the better for seeing you.’

Hester went through the duke’s private parlour into his bedchamber as he had not yet been allowed to get up for more than an hour or so a day. She had been anxious that he might have suffered a relapse, but he actually looked a little more healthy, which brought a smile to her face.

‘What can I do for you, Grandfather?’

Although not a blood relation, she had always been encouraged to think of him as her grandfather. The child of her mother’s first husband, who had sadly died soon after she was born, Hester had been adopted by Lord Sheldon and given his name when her mother remarried. She had loved him as the only father she had ever known, and the duke was in all respects but one her beloved grandfather.

‘Nothing for the moment,’ he said. ‘I wanted to tell you that I have sent for the heir. If he agrees to come, it may make a difference to both Lady Sheldon and you, Hester.’

‘Yes, of course. We might have to retire to the dower house, perhaps.’

‘Not while I live,’ the duke replied. ‘But it is all in the air at the moment. As you know, I made inquiries about him and they were favourable. He seems to be in possession of a fortune…Heaven knows, we could do with some of that money here, girl!’

‘Yes, sir—but he may not wish to use his fortune to help restore this house or the estate.’

‘Well, I have persuaded Birch to go out there,’ the duke told her and frowned. ‘He must be told of his duty to the family. He may not be presentable, of course—but I dare say you could knock him into shape for us, Hester?’

‘I am not sure I understand you, Grandfather.’

‘He will need to learn English manners. I have no idea what sort of schools they have out there these days, but I dare say he may have some rough edges. His father was a riverboat gambler, as I understand it, though he must have done all right for himself.’

‘I am willing to offer my help if he wishes for it, of course,’ Hester said, looking doubtful. ‘But he is Amelia’s son and she will surely have taught him his manners.’

‘Perhaps,’ the duke said. The mention of his favourite child’s name made him frown. She had run away to marry the man of her choice against his wishes and it had taken him a long time to forgive her. ‘Well, see what you can do for him if he comes, Hester—of course, he may not…’

‘If he does not wish to live here, he might give up his right to the title, sir.’

‘And then there would be only Mr Grant to deal with,’ the duke said and sighed. ‘Why weren’t you a boy and born to my son, Hester? If I had the money, I would break the entail and leave this place to you. You love it and none of my sons ever cared a hoot about the estate—and as for my half-brother’s grandson…’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘I should turn in my grave if he became master here. He is a pompous idiot!’

Hester laughed softly. ‘Do not upset yourself, dearest. You know that I have no right to inherit. Besides, this American heir may be everything you could wish for, especially if he has a fortune.’

‘Well, Birch will sound him out. He cannot leave for America until a week or so after Christmas, but we must hope that his journey will be successful. I wrote to the heir as soon as your father died, but he has not answered my letters.’

Hester was silent. She knew that the duke was hoping that the heir would come over to take his rightful place as the next in line for the title, but she could not truly see what he could gain from it, particularly if he was already in possession of a fortune.

‘I hope he comes for your sake, dearest,’ she said. ‘But if he doesn’t, we shall manage. We always do…’

‘We manage,’ the duke said and thumped the bed. ‘If I had my legs again, I would sort things out, but as it is I am helpless. If you ever decide to get married, this place will go to the devil.’

‘Well, I have no intention of it,’ Hester reassured him. ‘I shall not leave you, dearest Grandfather. If the heir comes…’ She left the sentence unfinished, because as yet they could not know whether or not the heir would wish to leave his home. ‘We must wait and see what happens.’

‘You—the heir to an English duke?’ Red Clinton threw back his head and laughed deep in his throat. ‘Don’t make me laugh, Jared. You are kidding me, aren’t you?’

Jared looked at his cousin, a lazy smile playing over his sensuous mouth. ‘It sounds crazy, I know, but my mother ran off with my father when her family rejected the marriage. Pa didn’t have much going for him then…’

He glanced round the richly furnished room above the gambling club he owned in New Orleans. It had been his father’s legacy to him when he died, all that remained of the fortune Jack Clinton had amassed when he was younger. Jared’s father had built a home fitting for the daughter of an English duke after making his fortune gambling on the riverboats that plied the Mississippi River, but it had been sold when she died, most of the money lost the way it had come. Jack Clinton’s heart had been buried with his wife, and he had become reckless, neglecting his son, drinking and gambling carelessly until all he had left was a gambling saloon. After his death of a heart attack, Jared had taken what he’d inherited, swearing that he would never end the way his father had, and had since increased his wealth many times over. He was now much richer than his father had ever been, respected and admired by the highest in New Orleans society; he had recently been approached to enter politics by some of the elders of the city.

‘I thought the family refused to have anything to do with her after she ran away with your father,’ Red said. ‘Why have they decided they want you now—after all these years? Isn’t there anyone else?’

‘It seems not. There were three sons and about four grandsons as I recall. A heck of a lot of people must have died for the title to come down to me.’

‘Hell!’ Red swore half a dozen times and pulled a wry face. ‘What are you gonna do? You live like a king here—why would you want to go and live in some draughty old mansion that’s probably about ready to fall down over your head?’ He tipped his head to one side, the left eyebrow raised in inquiry. ‘Or is the family dripping in gold?’

‘I very much doubt it,’ Jared said. He grinned, looking much like his more handsome cousin for a moment. They were both tall, strong men with broad shoulders, slim hips and the athletic look of men who had passed out of West Point with first-class honours. Both were rich men, both attractive in their own way, though of the two Red was the most striking, his hair a flaming torch as a ray of sunshine touched it. Jared’s hair was a darker shade of auburn, his features harsher and less attractive when in repose. Only when he smiled was it noticeable that the two were cousins. ‘The lawyer’s letter was all about the honour of the family name. Apparently, it is my duty to go over there and set things to rights.’

‘You mean they’ve got wind that you’re as rich as Croesus and they want some of it,’ Red drawled, his top lip curling in disgust. ‘You’re a fool if you do it, Jared.’

Jared nodded because his cousin was echoing the thoughts that had been running through his head for the past week since the latest letter arrived.

‘What’s more, they seem to imagine I need a lesson in manners,’ he said. ‘They are sending someone to talk to me and take me back on the ship to England. I have been advised that I should leave the purchase of any new clothes I might need until I get there. Apparently, a female cousin is going to teach me what to wear and how to behave in society.’

‘Well, dang my hide!’ Red exclaimed, a huge grin spreading over his face. ‘Think you’re an ignorant hillbilly, do they?’

‘Well, the lawyer didn’t quite say that, but that’s about the size of it,’ Jared agreed, amused by his cousin’s unaccustomed language. ‘He is coming today. I was wondering where to receive him.’

‘What do you mean?’ Red asked, puzzled. He glanced around the large room, which was furnished with the finest French furniture from the Empire period and contained treasures that a lot of Jared’s neighbours would give their eye-teeth to own. ‘You’ve plenty of property you could choose to receive him in. Why not this place? One look should disabuse their agent of any erroneous ideas they happen to have formed of your education and standing in American society.’

‘Yes, I dare say it would,’ Jared said, a wicked glint in his eyes. They were somewhere between green and blue in colour and at that moment the expression in them was both deep and mysterious. ‘But it makes me angry when I think of the way the old man treated my mother. He was a martinet by all accounts and he could afford to ignore her, because he had all those sons and grandsons. It must have given him some grief to realise that I was the only one left to him.’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Red drawled. Knowing his cousin well from the time they spent at military academy together, he knew that some devilish plan was lurking behind that look. ‘Going to tell me any time this week? Only I’ve got a pretty girl waiting for me to show this afternoon.’

‘You know that shack down by the river?’

‘The warehouse you bought last week?’ Red’s eyes narrowed. ‘You were going to pull it down and build new, as I recall.’

‘Fortunately, I haven’t got around to it,’ Jared said. ‘Do you think your lady love would mind if you were a little late for your important meeting, Red? Only you can do me a favour if you will.’

‘No problem,’ his cousin said. ‘Sue Ellen looks beautiful when she’s angry. She may shoot me on sight, but I guess I’ll take the chance.’ He raised his brows. ‘So what is the plan?’

‘I’m going to meet Mr Birch there in the river shack,’ Jared said. ‘I’ll dig out some of Pa’s old working clothes and give him a fright. Since he’s expecting me to be ignorant and disgusting, I may as well give him what he wants.’

‘Good,’ Red said and grinned broadly, loving the plan. ‘Where do I come in?’

‘Well, I think they may have done their research,’ Jared said. ‘But they made a big mistake. You see, I’m a no-good gambler, like my father, and last month I lost everything to you.’ He smiled at his cousin. ‘Think you can do that for me?’

‘Yes,’ Red said and laughed. ‘I reckon that will teach those aristocratic relatives of yours a lesson—but what then? You won’t actually go over there, will you?’

‘Well, that depends,’ Jared said. ‘I’m curious to see what happened to all those sons and grandsons, but I’m still thinking about it.’

‘Well, take your time making up your mind,’ Red told him. ‘If they have sent someone all this way, they want something—and they need it desperately.’

‘Yes,’ Jared agreed, his eyes narrowed, angry. ‘I am certain they do.’

‘Thank you for coming to me before you see Grandfather, Mr Birch,’ Hester said when she greeted him in the parlour at Shelbourne. It was spring, some months since her grandfather had first told her of his intention to send for the heir, and Mr Birch’s recent letter had shocked them. ‘Your letter upset him and I have wondered if the heir can possibly be as terrible as you suggested. Grandfather’s reports all indicated that he was wealthy and reasonably well educated. Didn’t he go to an exclusive military academy?’

‘It appears that he was thrown out halfway through his training, because of his drinking and gambling,’ Mr Birch said and sighed. He had worked for the Duke of Shelbourne since he first became a lawyer and his loyalty was unswerving. ‘It is the cousin—Mr Roderick Clinton—who has all the money, and he is really quite a gentleman, even if he does use some odd words occasionally. Now that would have been easy enough for you to correct, Miss Sheldon—but I fear Mr Jared Clinton is beyond your help. He lives in the most appalling shack and his clothes…’ He shuddered at the memory and the appalling smell that had clung to the heir apparent when they first met. Only his duty had kept him from turning tail in the first instance. ‘I managed to get him looking fairly decent for the journey to London, but he refuses to buy anything further, even though I assured him the duke has opened an account for him at Coutts Bank. It seems that he did have money until recently and lost it at the tables when drunk. He told me that he has to learn to control his bad habits before he can take anything from the duke.’

‘Well, at least he seems to be aware of his duty to Grandfather,’ Hester said, her sigh even deeper and more heartfelt than her lawyer’s if that were possible. Her glossy dark hair was drawn back in a severe knot at the back of her head, which did nothing for her features. She was, however, elegantly dressed, though the colours she chose were usually of a subdued hue. There had been so many tragedies over the past few years, including the death of her stepfather and half-brother John, and she had grown resigned to remaining at Shelbourne House to comfort her mother and Grandfather, neither of whom cared to go into society these days. ‘I suppose that is something. And since most of my step-uncles and cousins were gamblers, I suppose we cannot look for our American heir to be an exception. I was afraid it was too good to be true when the report came saying that he was industrious, honourable and clever.’

‘If only you had been born a man,’ Mr Birch said. ‘You are everything that this family needs, Miss Sheldon. I have always thought the female line had all the common sense in this family.’

‘You forget that I am no blood relation to the duke,’ Hester told him. ‘I love Shelbourne as if he were my true grandfather, and he loves me, but that is as far as it goes.’

‘Yes, I had forgotten for the moment, but I am sure that no one could have a more loving granddaughter, Miss Sheldon.’

‘I wish that there was some way in which I could protect Grandfather,’ Hester said. ‘The male line of this family are cursed, Mr Birch. For years I believed that the old story was a myth, just a foolish tale, as my step-uncles were profligate gamblers and drinkers—but since Papa died and then there was John…’ Her voice broke as the grief welled inside her.

‘It is just a tale,’ her lawyer assured her. ‘It is true that the family has been unfortunate for the past few years. Your stepfather’s brothers all carried the illness passed down through their mother, Miss Sheldon—an inflammation of the lungs, which often proves fatal.’

‘Yes, perhaps you are right.’ Hester sighed. ‘Grandfather had such hopes for the new heir. It seems he is doomed to disappointment.’

‘Well, he seems healthy enough. He is a gambler and he told me himself that he drinks more than he ought, but he seems disposed towards his duty because he did not drink more than a glass of wine at dinner on the voyage, and he refrained from gambling. His speech is a little…’ Mr Birch hesitated, wondering how best to prepare her. ‘American, I think is the best way to describe it…but I dare say you might be able to do something about that, and you could direct him to the right tailors, Miss Sheldon. You have always had perfect taste and he could do no better than to listen to you.’

‘If he will listen,’ Hester said doubtfully. ‘I have not found gentlemen normally accommodating in that respect. Papa certainly never listened to Mama on any subject—and if he had, he might never have lost so much money at the card tables. And then you know he might not have started drinking so much, taken that fever and died as he did, but when John died it broke his heart. He was never the same again after that because he knew he could not have another son. Mama’s health would not have permitted it, you see.’

‘Most unfortunate,’ Mr Birch agreed, nodding in sympathy. ‘You can only try, Miss Sheldon. What little there is left of the estate depends on the heir at least making an effort to bring the family fortunes about. If we can make him respectable, we can marry him to an heiress.’

‘And then what?’ Hester asked. ‘Mama was an heiress, but Papa gambled all her money away as well as his own. She has only the settlement her father insisted on when she married him and that is scarcely enough to clothe us both decently. But, as you say, a rich marriage is the only solution. Grandfather is determined on a ball to introduce him into society.’

‘Not yet, Miss Sheldon,’ her lawyer begged with a little shudder. ‘If he were seen in good society as he is…all chance of his finding an heiress would be gone.’

‘Is he really so awful?’ Hester said, wrinkling her brow. ‘I was not born when my aunt ran away with her American gambler, but I have heard that she was an intelligent, beautiful lady.’ How could her son be the ignorant, coarse man the lawyer had described? Surely there was some mystery here? ‘I think I should see him before Grandfather does, Mr Birch. I shall come back to London with you and stay with my godmother. Perhaps I can at least make him look presentable before he comes here.’

‘I think that is a good idea,’ Mr Birch said. ‘I was hesitant to suggest it—but since you have done so, I can only applaud your devotion to duty.’

‘Duty?’ Hester shook her head. ‘In truth, I care little for what becomes of the heir, sir. I wish only to make Grandfather’s last few months as easy as possible. I know he blames himself for what has happened to the family, and I would find a way of giving him peace of mind if it is possible.’

‘Your generosity of spirit is everything that one could wish for in a daughter,’ the lawyer said. ‘Your mother and grandfather must rely on you for so much, Miss Sheldon. It is a little unfair on you that they entertain so little these days.’

‘I have been given so much love,’ Hester replied with a serene smile. ‘I did have my Season before Papa died, you know. I did not take and I fear it is too late to think of marriage now. I am content with my life as it is, sir.’

Mr Birch sighed inwardly, for he knew that an intelligent woman such as Miss Sheldon undoubtedly must be wasted in that mausoleum of a house. However, he knew her too well to imagine she would ever think of disobliging her mother or the duke, and was therefore doomed to remain a spinster.

‘So, the prodigal son is not everything you had hoped,’ Lady Sarah Ireland said, casting a critical eye over her goddaughter. She thought it a great pity that Hester had not married when she was younger, because she was a charming, sensible girl and deserved a home of her own. She was at the beck and call of the duke, who had grown selfish in his old age, Lady Ireland believed. In truth, she had never liked Shelbourne, but she did like Hester, who was related to her through Hester’s real father, and she had tried to persuade Hester to come and live with her in London more than once. ‘Well, I dare say you can teach him some society manners, Hester, but it is a pity about the money. It would hardly have mattered how he speaks if he still had a fortune.’

Hester shook her head at the elderly lady, of whom she was very fond. ‘That remark was a little cynical, dearest Godmother, but I know you meant it well. In society, most things are forgiven one if there is a large enough fortune.’ She sighed and glanced at herself in the great oval mirror that hung on the wall of Lady Ireland’s elegant salon. ‘As you are aware, Grandfather still has the house and the land, possibly because his sons died before they could force him to sell, but there is very little money. Had the heir not gambled his money away, he might have helped restore the house. The west wing needs a large amount of money spent on it if it is to be restored to its former glory.’

‘Yes, for it was sadly damaged by fire last year, was it not?’ Lady Ireland frowned. ‘It was fortunate for the duke that you were there and happened to have gone down for a book.’

‘Yes, that was fortunate,’ Hester said, her smooth brow wrinkling. ‘I smelled the smoke and roused the servants. It was contained to the ground floor, but had it really caught hold…’ A shiver ran through her, for she knew that they might all have died in their beds, but particularly the duke, whose apartments were immediately above where the fire had started.

‘Have you ever discovered how it happened?’ Lady Ireland asked. ‘Was it merely a careless servant or…?’

‘I wish that I could answer you,’ Hester replied, looking anxious. ‘I cannot think it was started deliberately, for who would do such a thing? If Grandfather had died…’

‘But the heir was at that time living in America, was he not? I dare say he had not been told he was the heir, for your father had been dead only a few weeks, and the duke waited some months before sending for him, I believe?’

‘Yes.’ Hester furrowed her brow. ‘Grandfather did make some inquiries regarding the entail. I think if it were possible he might have had it legally broken, but it proved too expensive. You see, there is actually another heir. That meant he would have had to settle two claims rather than one, for Mr Stephen Grant would have had a claim if the heir died. Grandfather gave up then, for it would have beggared the estate to pay them both.’

‘Is that so?’ Lady Ireland raised her brows. ‘I did not realise that the duke had any other relations. I thought it was just you, your mother and the American heir.’

‘Grandfather had a half-brother, the son of his father’s second wife,’ Hester said. ‘They quarrelled many years ago and he lost touch with Philip. He was vaguely aware that Philip and his wife had a daughter, but the families did not visit, and he knew nothing of Philip’s grandson until recently, when he sent a polite note asking if he might call.’

Lady Ireland frowned. ‘And did he call? Have you met him, Hester? What manner of man is he?’

‘Oh, quite the gentleman,’ Hester told her. ‘I think Grandfather found him acceptable, if a little irritating.’

‘Irritating?’

‘Mr Stephen Grant is a man of the cloth,’ Hester said. ‘He is everything that is proper in a gentleman, ma’am—and he is entitled to call himself by one of the lesser family titles, as Grandfather reminded him, but he considers it inappropriate for a man of his calling, and prefers to be just Mr Grant.’

‘Is there any fortune in the family?’

‘Very little. I believe he has a small trust fund set up by his father, before he died, but his grandfather was disowned by the family at one time, and I understand that what money there was may have been lost at the gaming tables. Mr Grant despises gamblers.’

‘He sounds a more sound character than the heir,’ Lady Ireland remarked. ‘What did the duke have to say?’

‘He said Mr Grant was a prig and a fool,’ Hester said, her lips curving into a naughty smile. At that moment she looked younger than her years, and, in the eyes of her fond godmother, very pretty. ‘At that time, he was pleased with the reports of the American heir.’

‘Ah…’ Her godmother nodded. ‘It is a shame that Mr Clinton did not match up to the initial reports, for the family needs some good blood—a man who might have put a stop to the rot. However, you must cut your coat from the cloth you have, Hester. When did you say you were to meet him?’

‘Very shortly,’ Hester told her. ‘Mr Birch is bringing him here this afternoon for tea.’

‘Oh, so we shall see for ourselves what manner of man he is,’ Lady Ireland said. ‘I do hope he at least looks presentable, Hester—but I fear you will have your work cut out before you can present him to society.’

Jared Clinton stared at himself in the elegant wall mirror in the bedchamber of the exclusive hotel. He disliked what he saw, for the coat was ill fitting and not to the standard he was accustomed to wearing. His linen was decent, but it lacked quality and felt uncomfortable. For two pins he would have given up this charade and unpacked the clothes he had, unknown to Mr Birch, brought with him. However, the lawyer’s disapproving manner at their first meeting had angered him sufficiently that he was determined to carry the masquerade through. Besides, he had no intention of shelling out a fortune in order to prop up some crumbling mansion for a family who had once disowned his mother.

Who the hell did these people think they were? He had been given a lecture about what he owed to the duke and to the family name. Apparently, there was some old dragon who was prepared to teach him some manners, which the lawyer had made clear were sadly lacking. He needed to acquire some town bronze before he could be introduced to society as the duke’s heir. Jared had begun this deception as something to amuse himself and his cousin, with no intention of obliging the lawyer by coming over to England. However, his childhood memories of a beautiful English lady, who had sung songs to him and told him about the wonderful house she had grown up in, had somehow come to the fore and made him curious to see his birthright for himself.

‘Surely, you won’t really go over?’ Red had been incredulous. ‘You know it’s only the money they want, don’t you? You might fool some crusty old lawyer for a short while, but you’ll never be able to keep it up—and why should you? There’s nothing for you over there, Jared.’

‘Nothing but the satisfaction of seeing that arrogant devil beg for my help,’ Jared replied, a gleam in his eyes. ‘He disowned my mother because she ran off to marry my father. I think the duke owes me an apology for what he did to her, if nothing more.’

‘You won’t decide to stay there?’ his cousin asked. ‘You have all this here—and we need you. I need you, Jared.’

‘Now that is funny,’ Jared replied, grinning. ‘You need me telling you what to do like a hole in the head. If you had nothing of your own, I would point out the advantages of my selling up here—you could buy the property and increase your own holdings in the business.’

‘Damn it! I don’t want that and you know it,’ Red said, an angry glint in his own eyes now. ‘I have more land and property than I need already. Folk round here have been expecting you to run for Congress—this year senator, in a couple of years who knows. You could be the next president.’

Jared laughed. ‘Not my game, cousin. True, I’ve had a certain amount to say about the way things are run here, but I am content to keep my efforts at a local level. However you—you could go a long way.’

Red shook his head. ‘Well, I suppose if you are determined to go, you must, but take care of yourself. You won’t have me to watch your back over there.’

‘If I feel the need, I’ll write,’ Jared said drily. ‘I don’t expect to stay long. I just want to take a look and see how things lie.’

‘I wouldn’t want to be writing your obituary,’ his cousin said, suddenly serious. ‘You said there was some mystery about the way all your male relatives died over there, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. I asked the lawyer about that, but he wasn’t having any of it—natural causes and a couple of accidents—but I shall keep an open mind on that one.’

‘You do that,’ Red said, ‘and, if you need me, I’ll come.’

‘The cavalry to the rescue?’ Jared chuckled deep in his throat. ‘We had some good times, cousin. Keep an eye on this place for me—and if anything happens to me, you are my executor.’

‘That’s a heck of a consolation!’ Red said. ‘What am I going to do if you don’t come back? I can’t run your empire alone, cousin. Besides, it would interfere with my pleasures.’

The memory made Jared smile. His cousin was also his best friend and he could not help wishing he were here, though he knew it was foolish to feel so apprehensive about the meeting with his mother’s relatives. He had an odd feeling that he was being drawn into something he would regret. Perhaps it would have been better to stay at home and ignore his grandfather’s demands. But he had never been a quitter and he wasn’t about to start now.

Some of the tension had drained out of Jared by the time he went downstairs to the hotel reception area. He was just in time to see the lawyer walk in the door, noticing his quick frown of disapproval. It made Jared smile inwardly. The odd feeling of unease had passed, his natural resilience bouncing back. He was going to enjoy himself this afternoon; he hadn’t met a female he couldn’t charm yet, be she sixteen or ninety-six. He didn’t think this Miss Hester Sheldon would be an exception.

Hester stood up as she heard footsteps in the hall outside her godmother’s salon. She walked over to the window, glancing out at the gardens, which were in full bloom with spring flowers, for some reason unaccountably nervous. She had made light of the whole thing to Lady Ireland, but truthfully she knew it was very important that the heir should be presentable. Unless he could charm himself into the good graces of one of this season’s heiresses, it was likely that the duke would have to begin selling off some of the land—or, worse still, the west wing might have to be closed off and abandoned until the money could be found to restore it. And what her godmother had no idea of was how much she had come to love Shelbourne, even though it could never be hers.

‘Mr Birch and Viscount Sheldon, madam.’

Hester heard the announcement, but did not turn immediately. She did not know why she was so reluctant all of a sudden, but it might have been her fear of disappointment.

‘Well, ain’t this a real pretty place, ma’am,’ a voice with a pronounced southern twang said behind her. ‘I’m right pleased to meet you, Miss Sheldon, though I ain’t rightly sure what I’m supposed to call you, ma’am. Are you a cousin?’

‘I fear you have mistaken me for my goddaughter,’ Lady Ireland said in what sounded like cut-glass accents to Hester’s practised ear. ‘Hester, my dear. I believe this is your cousin.’

Hester turned, a shock running through her as she looked into eyes that were at that particular moment more green than blue, his hair a rich shade of auburn, his skin darker than she would have expected in a man with that colouring. He was tall, broad shouldered with a face that looked lived in, a squared chin and deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He must be in his late thirties, older than she had imagined, though of course his mother was just seventeen when she ran away from her home.

Hester would normally have explained that she was not a true cousin, but for some reason her throat had dried and she had difficulty in speaking at all. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but somehow it wasn’t this man with his air of self-assurance that accorded ill with the clothes he was wearing. He looked good as he was—dressed decently, he would be magnificent, and that was due to his build, because some of the fops who patronised the best tailors in London would never look one-tenth as good as he did at this moment. She cleared her throat, going forward to offer her hand.

‘I am not sure what Mr Birch told you about us, my lord,’ she said. ‘You actually have several titles to choose from should you wish to change yours—but Grandfather thought it might be too daunting if you found yourself being called the Marquis of Shelby, which you could be if you chose, so he has given you the title that was once Papa’s.’

‘If you don’t mind, ma’am, I prefer to be known as Jared Clinton. I’ve never considered myself a member of the English aristocracy.’

‘No, perhaps not,’ Hester said, taking a grip on herself. Her pulses were racing, which was foolish because she was always in complete control of herself when in company. To lose her composure now would be ridiculous. ‘I must welcome you to London, sir. The duke is looking forward to meeting you and presenting you to his friends as the heir. I dare say Mr Birch has told you that an account has been set up for you here in town. You might wish to purchase a few clothes—the kind of thing you would be expected to wear in society. If you should wish for it, I shall be delighted to help you purchase your new wardrobe.’

‘Well, I reckon that’s right nice of you, ma’am,’ Jared said, a glint in his eyes. She was standing in sunlight and he could not see her face clearly, but she was dressed well. He had been prepared to treat gently the elderly lady he imagined had been dragged from her bathchair to rescue him, but what was he supposed to learn from a girl like this? ‘But I wouldn’t want to be a trouble to you, dragging you all over town—unless you can put up with a hillbilly like me? I ain’t never been to London before and I cain’t wait to see the sights. Red is just going to hog my ear when I get back, wanting to know everything I seen in this little old town.’

‘It would be my pleasure to accompany you—at least to those places where a lady is permitted to visit. I am not sure whether we could find someone who would put you up for a decent club, but after Grandfather has seen you, I dare say he will ask one of his friends to do the necessary.’

‘Hog damn, if that ain’t right decent of you, cousin.’

‘One thing,’ Hester said, frowning slightly. ‘That phrase you just used would not be accepted in polite circles. If you wish to be accepted by the best people, it might be as well to moderate your language, if you can.’

‘What phrase would that be, Miss Sheldon?’ Jared asked, his eyes wide and innocent.

‘I imagine she meant hog damn,’ Lady Ireland intercepted. ‘Please come and sit down, sir. I have rung for tea.’

‘That’s the milky stuff they keep sending me at the hotel,’ Jared said. ‘If you don’t mind, ma’am, I would rather not. Coffee, if you please, or something stronger.’

‘Madeira, then,’ Lady Ireland replied promptly. ‘You may not know the wine, sir, but I assure you it is much drunk by gentlemen of taste.’

Jared thought of his well-stocked wine cellar at home, which held some of the finest wines from France and other countries, but held the biting retort back, knowing that he had invited this kind of thing by pretending to be something he was not.

‘You are too kind, ma’am. I was thinking maybe I’d try some of your cute English ale, but this…what did you call it—Madeira?—that will do just fine.’

He became aware that his cousin was staring at him. She had walked out of the sunshine now and he was able to see her face properly for the first time. He realised that she was not quite as young as he had thought her—perhaps twenty-four or-five, but as yet unmarried, for her finger was ringless. He wondered why, because she was not unattractive. Not pretty, but pleasant to look at, he thought, her hair a soft brown and her eyes what some people called hazel.

‘Will you not sit down, sir?’ Lady Ireland inquired as Hester took a seat on the small sofa. ‘How do you like what you’ve seen of England so far?’

‘It rains a lot,’ Jared answered, deliberately obtuse. ‘I cain’t say as I’ve been far as yet, ma’am, but what I’ve seen is kind of cute.’ He winced at his own drawl and wondered what his mother would say if she could hear him. He sounded like one of the uneducated young men who came to his cousin’s estate looking for work from time to time.

‘Cute? I dare say that is meant to be a compliment,’ Lady Ireland said, looking down her long nose at him. ‘I think what you meant to say is that you haven’t had time to see a great deal, but you like what you have seen so far.’

‘Yes, ma’am, you could say that,’ Jared replied. He got to his feet instantly as a young maid came in carrying a heavy tray. ‘May I help you with that, miss?’

‘Oh, sir, my lord…’ The girl looked flustered as she set the tray on the stand beside her mistress. ‘So kind…’ She met his gaze and blushed, a little smile on her lips as she hurried from the room, clearly embarrassed by his attentions.

‘You do not need to stand up for a servant,’ Lady Ireland told him. ‘And you do not offer to help her with her work. I dare say you are not aware of it, Lord Sheldon, but it isn’t done in polite society.’

‘Where I come from, a gentleman always stands for a lady,’ Jared replied without thinking. ‘And that tray looked heavy. At home my father would have expected his son to help if the tray was too heavy for a servant. He believed in equality for all.’

‘You are in England now…’

‘I don’t think it matters,’ Hester said, because she had seen the flash of anger in the heir’s eyes. She was rather pleased that he had shown himself to have good manners, even if his politeness was misplaced. ‘Mr Clinton erred on the right side, Godmother.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose he did,’ Lady Ireland agreed, looking at her in surprise. ‘I was merely trying to help. I should not like you to suffer a severe set-down, sir. You will find that many society hostesses would give you the cut direct if you used some of the words you have here today—and they will snigger behind their fans if you jump to your feet every time a maid brings in a tray.’

‘They may do as they please, ma’am,’ Jared replied, a note of steel in his voice. ‘A lady is a lady where I come from—and that little girl was struggling with that tray.’

‘As it happens, I agree with you. She should never have attempted it. I shall have a word with my butler. He ought to have come himself or sent two maids. Madeira, sir? I believe you will find it agreeable. Please help yourself from the decanter. Mr Birch, will you have tea or join his lordship in a glass of Madeira?’

‘If I may, I should enjoy a glass of wine,’ the lawyer said. He had been standing silently, watching the American heir with a puzzled frown. He had noticed it once or twice before—that unpleasant twang disappeared when the viscount was roused to anger or passion. Could it possibly be assumed? But why would he do that? Surely he would wish to make a good impression on his English relatives? Unless…Mr Birch decided that the viscount would bear further investigation. It might just be that the American had been having a joke at his expense. Oh, dear, how very embarrassing that would be: the duke did not suffer fools gladly!

‘Yes, of course,’ Lady Ireland said, smiling at him. ‘Do please sit down, sir. I had forgotten you for a moment, but you are welcome to join us. Hester, my dear, you would like tea, of course?’

‘Yes, Godmother,’ Hester replied, a slight smile on her lips. The heir had spirit, she thought with satisfaction. He might wear dreadful clothes and come out with some very strange phrases, but all in all, he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the lawyer had painted him. ‘I shall join you in a cup of tea.’ She refrained from saying that she often shared a glass of Madeira with her grandfather when they were alone.

She was about to get up to receive her cup from her godmother, but Mr Clinton anticipated her. He was already on his feet, pouring the wine for Mr Birch and himself, but he left his own glass standing to pass her the tea. She noticed that he lifted his coat tails when he sat down, and the way he held his glass—and she noticed that his nails were short and very clean.

Something wasn’t quite right here, Hester thought. Mr Birch had spoken of the heir as being ill mannered, badly educated and uncouth—but that did not describe the man now sitting on her godmother’s chair. He had chosen a substantial, square-seated, Chippendale elbow chair, which was one of the few up to his weight, and he looked very much at home. She had also noticed that his accent was missing when he asked the maid if he might help her. Why?

Why would he possibly be pretending to be something he wasn’t? Hester’s curiosity was aroused. If he had been an ill-educated man pretending to be a gentleman, she would have assumed it was because he wanted to impress his relatives and make sure of his inheritance when the duke died—but why pretend to be an ignorant oaf when he was, in fact, a gentleman?

Hester had no idea, but the slip had made her suspicious. If he were honest, he would not have tried to deceive them, therefore he must be up to something. She decided not to demand the truth at once. She would go along with his masquerade for the moment and see where it led them.

‘You must call for me in the morning, sir,’ she said, giving him a smile that was as innocent as it was false. ‘We must begin to collect your wardrobe and I am sure we shall be pleased to show you something of the city—shall we not, Godmother?’

‘I sure don’t want to drag Lady Ireland all over the place,’ Jared said, giving her a smile that set Hester’s heart racing. ‘Would it be proper for you to accompany me without your godmother’s escort?’

‘Well…’ Hester saw a gleam in his eyes and realised he was testing her. ‘If I were a young girl, I should say not, for we hardly know one another, but since I am nearly seven and twenty—and we are cousins—I see no harm in it, sir.’

He grinned at her then, and Hester’s heart jerked. She knew he was feeling very pleased with himself and wondered just what she had let herself in for, but it would not have suited her pride to withdraw.

‘I think we shall begin with a visit to Lock’s,’ she told him. ‘The one thing a gentleman cannot do without is a supply of good hats.’ She glanced down at his boots, which her expert eye recognised immediately as having been made by an expensive bootmaker, even if they had seen better days. She knew at once that her suspicions were correct. He was acting a part—but why?

‘I bow to your superior judgement,’ Jared replied without a trace of the awful accent. Hester looked into his eyes and knew that she had walked straight into his trap.

Chapter Two

‘Well, what did you think of him?’ Lady Ireland asked after their guest had left them. ‘His clothes were awful, of course, but that isn’t too much of a problem for you, Hester. He has an unfortunate habit of speech, but I dare say you may cure him of it in time—’ She broke off as she saw the gleam of laughter in her goddaughter’s eyes. ‘What is so funny?’

‘Did you not see through his act, dearest?’ Hester asked. ‘I am certain that that awful accent is assumed. He is pretending to be something he isn’t, though I cannot say why he should wish to deceive us.’

‘Pretending to be something he isn’t…’ Lady Ireland frowned. ‘Well, yes, I can see why you think it, because in some ways he was very much the gentleman.’ A look of annoyance entered her eyes. ‘That is so ridiculous! Why would he do such a thing?’

‘I am not sure,’ Hester said, ‘but I believe he has some personal agenda of his own and I dare say we shall discover it in time.’

‘Why did you not challenge him if you thought it?’ Lady Ireland was annoyed. ‘I consider it to be most rude of him.’

‘Yes, in a way,’ Hester said. ‘If he means it as a jest, then I suppose it is quite amusing—but if there is something more sinister…’

‘Sinister?’ Her godmother frowned. ‘What reason could he possibly have that might be sinister?’

‘He cannot know that Grandfather’s health is precarious,’ Hester replied. ‘He need only wait a few months, a year or so at most—but perhaps he thinks there is more money waiting for him to inherit.’

‘Oh, no! You cannot possibly think he…’ Lady Ireland looked shocked. ‘He did not appear to be a greedy, grasping sort of man, despite his odd manners. I believe he may be playing a practical joke on you, Hester, though I cannot see why he should wish to do such a foolish thing.’

‘If it turns out merely to be a jest, I shall be relieved,’ Hester said. She looked her godmother in the eyes. ‘I have never been sure that my brother’s death was an accident, and the fire last year may have been deliberate. If I am right and someone did try to kill Grandfather…’

‘But surely…’ Lady Ireland frowned at her. ‘It could not have been Mr Clinton. He was in America.’

‘We do not know that for sure. Besides, I dare say that he could have paid someone to do it.’

‘No, no,’ her godmother said. ‘I cannot think so harshly of him, Hester. Even with that accent and those strange expressions, I quite liked him. I am usually thought to be a good judge of character, my dear.’

‘Yes, I liked him too,’ Hester said, a rueful smile on her soft mouth. ‘But I shan’t if he has come here to upset Grandfather!’

‘You must not pass judgement too soon, Hester.’ Lady Ireland smiled at her. ‘Now, let us think of something else if you please. We are going to a soirée this evening, and I think I shall rest for an hour before I change. What do you plan to do, dearest?’

‘I believe I shall change in an hour or so,’ Hester told her. ‘In the meantime, there is a letter I wish to write.’

‘Then I shall leave you to amuse yourself.’ Lady Ireland got to her feet. ‘Do not be too anxious for your grandfather, my love. I think you will find that he is still able to take most things in his stride.’

Hester nodded, looking thoughtful. She went over to the pretty little writing desk that stood by the windows and sat down, taking paper from the top drawer and a quill from the enamelled tray. She dipped the nib in the ink and began to write, then stopped and frowned, screwing up the paper. She had thought she might write to Mr Grant, because he had seemed a very honest, sensible man when he came to visit, but something made her change her mind.

She frowned over her fresh sheet of paper. Lady Ireland was very kind, but she was not a gentleman, and Hester felt that she needed the support of a male relative. There was only one man she knew who might help her—her mother’s cousin by marriage, Mr Richard Knighton.

Mr Knighton was a man of three and forty. Hester knew him well as he was the only male relative she had on her mother’s side, and he had always taken an interest in her—at least he had been kind to her for the past few years. Mr Knighton was unmarried, an attractive, personable man, and she knew she would see him that evening. She returned the paper to the desk drawer and stood up. She would go into the garden for a few minutes, because she needed to think.

Jared looked at the evening clothes the hotel valet had prepared for him. He had spoken to the manager, asking him where he might find a gentleman’s club that would accept him as a temporary member, somewhere he could spend an hour or two in company, and perhaps play a hand of cards if he chose. He was not a hardened gambler like his father, but he could enjoy a game of skill occasionally. He actually enjoyed a busy social life and had many friends both at home and abroad.

As a young man he had travelled to Europe, widening his experiences of the world and sowing his wild oats. At seven and thirty, he looked his years and perhaps more, for his face had the craggy appearance of a man who loved working outdoors. Despite his huge fortune, Jared was never happier than when he working hard at some physical task, and often chopped wood for the kitchen stove at his home. Yet he could add a long list of figures in his head without use of pen or paper, and he was well read in the classics and history, as well as taking a keen interest in the sciences. His one besetting sin was that he became bored easily, and he was already bored with staying in his hotel room. He wished that Red had been with him. Together, they would have found something to amuse themselves. As yet he had been disinclined to go far at night, for he was not one to drink alone, but his patience was at an end, and he could no longer remain cooped up like this—nor would he! So the hotel manager had recommended a gaming club at his request.

‘It is not the quality of White’s or Brooks’s, sir,’ he explained politely. The manager of the Cavendish was no fool and he was of the opinion that clothes did not always indicate a man’s true worth, and a few gold guineas in his hand had told him that his guest was richer than he might appear. ‘But it is frequented by gentlemen looking for something more…exciting. One word of warning, however—be careful not to play too deep, because there are a few sharks waiting for the unwary.’

‘I thank you for your warning, though it is not necessary,’ Jared said. ‘My father was a gambling man on the Mississippi, sir, and he taught me a few tricks.’

‘I thought you might be an American, sir,’ the manager said, nodding his satisfaction. ‘You have a slight accent, though it is not always discernible.’

‘I dare say you have guests from all over the world,’ Jared said. ‘Perhaps even a titled gentleman now and then?’

‘Oh, yes, quite often. They come here when they wish to be discreet, sir.’

‘Would you have heard of Lady Ireland—or Miss Hester Sheldon?’

‘I know the name of Sheldon, sir, though not the lady herself. I believe Viscount Sheldon may have been her father. He used to visit us occasionally, though the poor man has been dead some months now. I believe the old duke is unwell himself—Shelbourne, they call him as the head of the family. Tragic really—it must be hard to outlive all those sons and grandsons.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Jared replied. ‘Thank you, you have been helpful.’

Jared’s expression was thoughtful as he began to dress for the evening. The manager had not elaborated on the tragic deaths of his male relatives, but Jared had a feeling that there might be more to the story of tragedy in the family than was commonly known. Yet, as far as he could tell from what Mr Birch had told him, there wasn’t much money in the family—at least by his standards. A couple of hundred acres of land and an ancient pile—surely not enough to kill off a succession of rivals?

Maybe they had all died from natural causes or from accidents. It was possible, of course—simply an unlucky family. He would take things as they came, keep his eyes and ears open just in case—but this evening he intended to enjoy himself. It was good to be wearing his own things again, to feel the superb fit of beautifully tailored clothes.

He wondered if he should put Miss Sheldon out of her misery and turn up decently dressed the next morning, but a little imp on his shoulder prompted him to leave her in the dark for a bit longer. Besides, he might just buy himself a few things while he was here; he had been using an English tailor for years, though he usually did his ordering in New York.

Of course it wasn’t his first visit to London, though he hadn’t told Mr Birch that—he had visited several times, the last just over a year previously. He hadn’t stayed long, because he had been en route to Paris to sort out a problem with some business interests he had there. Not many people knew it, but he owned a chain of exclusive hotels, including ones in Paris and London, as well as several in America. He had chosen not to stay at his London hotel, because the staff knew him well, and it would not fit with his present image.

A smile played over Jared’s rather sensual mouth. Compared to his cousin he might not be considered handsome, but he had something that appealed to ladies of all ages. He liked them and they knew it, which was why he could usually take his pick when he wished for female company. He had known many beautiful women, and counted some of them amongst his past mistresses, but there was something out of the ordinary about Miss Sheldon. He had to admit that her taste in dress was impeccable, though he would have liked to see her in brighter colours. Her gown that afternoon had been a soft dove grey, which suited her well, cut on simple lines, but with an elegance that told him it had been fashioned by an expert. She had been wearing a large and exquisite cameo set in gold at her bodice, but no other jewellery. It was strange that a girl like that, clearly intelligent and of good birth, should not be married or even engaged. Perhaps she was not inclined to marry, he thought, dismissing her from his mind as he went out to the cab the manager had summoned for him.

He would not think about her again this evening. He wanted male company, a glass or two of good wine and perhaps a pleasant game of cards…

‘You are just the person I wanted to see,’ Hester told Richard Knighton at about the same moment as Jared was setting out on his quest for some entertainment. ‘I have a problem and I need someone to listen.’

‘Delighted,’ Knighton said, bestowing a smile of considerable warmth on her. ‘Do you wish to retire to somewhere quieter—or shall I call on you at home?’

‘I am staying with my godmother,’ Hester told him. ‘The London house has been closed since Papa died, as you know. I think it may be opened again soon, but it depends on the heir.’

‘Ah, yes, I believe your mama mentioned him in her last letter.’ Richard Knighton’s grey eyes narrowed as he looked at her. ‘You are surely not worried that he will displace you in the duke’s affections? He would never see you left penniless.’

‘No, it is not that,’ Hester replied. ‘Both Mama and I have a small allowance, and we could live in the dower house, though Mama says that if anything happens to the duke she will retire to Bath. She has friends who live there and we visit once a year, as you know.’

His gaze narrowed. ‘You know that both your mother and you would be welcome to stay at my country home should you feel a need, Hester.’

‘How kind you are,’ she replied. ‘I think I should come to you if I were in trouble, Richard—but I do not anticipate it. My godmother would love me to live with her, and Mama has many kind friends—but no, it is Grandfather I worry for, not myself.’

Richard’s brow arched. ‘I know his health is precarious, but there is no immediate concern, I believe?’

‘No, at least I hope not,’ she said. ‘But I am afraid the American heir may not be…honest.’

‘In what way?’

‘Oh, I cannot tell you now, for my godmother is beckoning me to her,’ Hester said. ‘Will you call tomorrow for tea?’

‘I should like that very much,’ Knighton said and, taking her hand, bowed over it. ‘And now I must leave you to the company of your friends, for I have another appointment. Expect me tomorrow, my dear. I shall look forward to it, as I always do.’

Hester nodded, watching as he walked away. She was glad she had chosen her mother’s cousin as her confidant rather than Mr Stephen Grant. Mr Knighton was a man in his middle years and she felt at ease with him. Indeed, he had always been kind to them and, since her stepfather’s death, had visited more frequently. She believed she could talk to him about the things that were worrying her.

It was late when Lady Ireland called for her carriage to take them home. She had met several of her close friends that evening, and, seeing that her goddaughter was in good company, had lingered beyond her normal hour. She glanced at Hester in the dim light inside the carriage.

‘Did you enjoy yourself this evening, my dear?’

‘Yes, it was a pleasant evening,’ Hester replied. ‘I always enjoy myself when I stay with you. I met several friends.’

‘I saw you talking to Mr Carlton and Sir John Fraser,’ Lady Ireland said. ‘Sir John is such a pleasant gentleman, do you not think so?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Hester said. ‘But so are Mr Carlton and Lord Havers.’

‘Ah, yes, Lord Havers. The gossips say that he is about to propose to Miss Castle.’

‘Yes, I have heard that, but I do not know if it is true,’ Hester said. She glanced at her godmother in the poor light. ‘It matters little one way or the other, because I do not wish to be married.’

‘I have never understood that,’ Lady Ireland said. ‘Would you not enjoy being the mistress of your own home? Surely you must wish for a husband—and children?’

‘Perhaps, I am not sure,’ Hester told her and wrinkled her smooth brow. ‘Had I been asked when I was eighteen, I might have said yes, but I have become settled in my ways. Mama cannot be bothered with the running of a large house these days. Papa’s death left her feeling…delicate. Grandfather still orders the estate as much as he can, of course, but he leaves the house to me. It would be ungrateful of me to desert them, do you not agree?’

‘As it happens, I do not agree,’ her godmother told her. ‘Your grandfather has enough servants to see to his comfort—and your mama could well do her share if she tried.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Hester agreed and laughed softly. ‘But you see, I enjoy looking after them, and the house and the servants. It really isn’t a trouble to me.’ She glanced out of the window as they passed by a house from which a great deal of light was to be seen streaming into the street. It was, she supposed, one of the fashionable gaming houses that gentlemen liked to frequent. At that moment a gentleman was on the point of leaving, standing for a second or two in the full light of lanterns and a torch one of the links boys was holding aloft. She saw his face clearly, and noted the fact that he was fashionably dressed before the carriage swept by. ‘Was that—?’ She broke off as her godmother turned to her inquiringly. ‘Did you see that gentleman just now?’

‘Which particular gentleman?’ Lady Ireland asked. ‘We passed a rather noisy group of them a moment ago. Coming, I dare say, from that club we passed just now.’

‘I thought it was Mr Clinton,’ Hester said and frowned. ‘It was a little odd.’

‘He does look a little odd,’ Lady Ireland admitted. ‘But, as I said earlier, once you take him in hand he will do, Hester. I imagine he will pay for dressing.’

‘Yes,’ Hester agreed. She decided against telling her godmother that the man she had just seen needed no help from her. If it had been the heir—and she had seen him so briefly that she could not be certain—it meant that he was playing a deep game, as she had suspected. Was there something sinister about him? A shiver ran down her spine as she thought about the various accidents that had happened to the Sheldon family over the past few years. Supposing they were not accidents, but deliberate acts to bring about the situation that now existed? Could the American heir have been behind some of the accidents that had befallen her family?

Jared left the Carrick Club and began to walk in the direction of a hackney cab that had drawn up a short distance from the club. It was a pleasant night, the sky lit by a sprinkling of stars, and he might have been inclined to walk had he been certain of his way. As he was not well acquainted with this part of town, he thought it might be best to take advantage of the cabs that waited for paying passengers. His head was clear for he had drunk no more than a glass or two of wine, and he had spent an enjoyable few hours playing piquet for a few hundred guineas with some gentlemen he had met at the club, winning just slightly more than he lost. He was deep in thought, undecided whether to go on with his masquerade the next day, and it was only an ingrained instinct that warned him at the last moment.

Turning suddenly, he found himself confronted by a burly rogue armed with a stout cudgel. The man’s arm was raised, as if he had been about to strike from behind. Jared acted to save himself, flinging himself at the rogue and catching his arm in a powerful grip that caused the other man to cry out in pain. Seconds later, the rogue found himself suddenly twisted off his feet and thrown head over heels, landing on his back on the hard pavement. He stared up at Jared, a dazed expression on his face as he struggled to understand what had happened to him.

‘What did yer do that fer?’ he asked in an aggrieved tone. ‘I weren’t doin’ no ’arm.’

‘I suppose you were not about to crack me over the head in the hope of stealing my purse?’

‘Fair go,’ the man whined as he struggled to his feet. ‘I were only tryin’ to earn an honest crust, me lord.’

‘I do not think the watch would consider assault and robbery an honest way to earn your living, rogue.’ Jared’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. He had pulled a small pistol from his greatcoat pocket and held it cocked and ready. ‘Or perhaps it wasn’t money you were after?’

‘He said I could keep whatever I found in your pockets,’ the man stated, eyeing Jared’s pistol nervously. ‘You ain’t goin’ ter shoot me, are yer?’

‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,’ Jared said coldly. ‘If you try to escape custody, I would be well within my rights to shoot you in the leg. Such wounds turn bad in prison and you might die there, alone and untended.’

‘I might be of use to yer, me lord,’ the man said, beads of sweat on his brow as he looked into Jared’s eyes, because he didn’t doubt that he would shoot if provoked. ‘I could tell yer somethin’ that might save yer life.’

‘Indeed?’ Jared’s brows arched. ‘Why should I believe anything you say?’

‘It weren’t yer purse he wanted,’ the man said with a crafty leer. ‘He wants yer dead, me lord.’

‘Who wants me dead?’

‘I don’t rightly know his name, sir—but I could tell yer where he lives when he’s in town. He thought ’e had me fooled, but Harris Tyler knows a thing or two about fooling hisself.’

‘You are saying that someone paid you to crack me over the head?’

‘That be the truth of it, me lord. He said he didn’t care how I did it, but I was to kill yer ternight.’

‘And how did you know who you were to kill?’ Jared wasn’t sure whether to believe his tale. ‘Where did you meet this man?’

‘A gentleman, he were, me lord, just like you. He came looking fer me at the Crown and King in Cheapside; it’s where I hang out, see—and he told me there were twenty guineas in it if I done you in.’

‘He gave you my name?’

‘No, me lord, just took me to your hotel. We followed you here, sir. He told me to wait until you came out, as you’d likely be two parts to the wind and easy prey.’

‘He did, did he?’ Jared frowned. ‘Did he give you your money, rogue?’

‘No, sir. He said he would come to the Crown and King termorrow at eight of the evenin’, and give it me then.’

‘And yet you know where he lives?’

‘I know where he went after he left me ’ere,’ the man said. ‘I followed ’im, see—I like to know things about a cove who offers me money to do murder—but I can’t swear to it that it were ’is house. There were others comin’ and goin’.’

‘Possibly a house party,’ Jared said. ‘Well, Tyler, if that is your name. I think you had better take me to the house, and then we’ll see. As you said, it is possible that you might be of use to me, but we should get one thing clear from the start. I may use you, and I may pay you if you serve me well—but I make a bad enemy. I would not advise you to get any ideas about double crossing me.’

A shudder went down Harris Tyler’s spine as he looked into the icy eyes of his former victim. ‘If I’d known what manner of man yer were, me lord, I wouldn’t ’ave tried nothin’…cross me ’eart and swear to die.’

Jared smiled. ‘I doubt you have a heart, Tyler—but if you don’t want to die, keep faith with me.’

‘It’s me missus and the little ’uns,’ Tyler whined. ‘Sick she’s been and no money for the doctor.’

‘And I was born yesterday,’ Jared replied in a pleasant tone that belied the threat beneath. ‘I’m giving you one chance, Tyler—and you can start by telling me anything you can about this man, and by showing me where this house is.’

‘Well, sir, I did notice one thing when his head was turned from me, sir. He has a small scar behind his left ear. You can’t see it most of the time, but his hair was tied with a bow, and when he turned his head I saw it for a moment.’

‘A scar behind his left ear?’ Jared studied his face. Was he inventing the scar—had he invented the whole story? For the moment he would go along with it, because there were only a handful of people who knew he was in London. A rogue attacking him in the hope of robbing him was one thing, but a mysterious man who had paid for him to be murdered was quite another.

Hester sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair. It was thick and reached to the small of her back when she let it loose from the strict confines to which she habitually consigned it. With her hair loosely waving, and in the soft light of the candles, Hester looked younger than she was, a wistful expression in her eyes as she stared unseeingly at her reflection.

It was very strange that she had been on the point of writing to Mr Grant earlier that day, she thought, and wondered what had brought him to town. She had discovered his letter waiting for her in the hall on their return that evening. It was a very proper letter, informing her that he was in town for a matter of a few days and would be happy to be of service to her in any way he could. She had only to send for him, because he was staying at the Carrick and would call on her before he left town. She would reply to it in the morning, but for the moment she was not certain what she ought to say to him. Would it be proper of her to discuss her worries concerning the heir?

She had no such doubts about talking to Mr Knighton, because she trusted him to keep her confidence, and she had known him for most of her life. She did not know Mr Grant well, and though he seemed sincere, he might not be the best person to speak to about Mr Clinton. After all, should anything happen to the American, he would be the next in line to inherit. Mr Knighton, on the other hand, had nothing to gain from such a tragic occurrence.

Hester closed her eyes, determined to put it all from her mind. Lying here worrying would not help her. She would spend the morning with the American heir. If he continued with his masquerade, she would ask him why he was trying to deceive her.

Hester was ready and waiting when Jared arrived the next morning. She noticed that he had abandoned the ill-fitting clothes he had been wearing the previous day. His coat was a little shabby, but she could not doubt that it had been tailored by an expert; his boots were old, but discernibly of good quality, and his breeches fitted him well. His shoulders were broad, his body lean and strong looking, his face attractive rather than handsome. She decided that her godmother had been right—he would pay for dressing.

‘Well, sir, are you ready to be fitted for the outfits you will need if you are to be introduced into society?’ Her eyes challenged him, meeting his so boldly that he was momentarily startled. He could almost think that she had seen through his disguise—and yet how could she?

‘I am not sure that I can afford to patronise the best tailors,’ he prevaricated, knowing that he might be recognised at some of them.

‘You must have good hats and boots,’ Hester said. ‘Besides, Grandfather has opened an account for you at his bank. You may spend what you wish within reason. He will make you an allowance for other things once you have settled on a proper sum between you, but you must have a decent wardrobe.’

‘Must I?’ Jared’s eyebrows rose. What he had learned from Tyler the previous evening had put him on his mettle. If the man were to be believed, his life was in danger, and that meant he could trust no one—perhaps even this woman might be other than she seemed. ‘Well, I do need a decent hat, so perhaps we should visit the haberdasher you mentioned.’

‘Lock’s are not merely haberdashers,’ Hester reprimanded him with a sparkling look. ‘They are the hat makers, Mr Clinton. No one who is anyone would dream of going anywhere else.’

‘Indeed?’ A look of mockery came to his eyes. ‘I have plenty of good hats at home that did not come from that particular establishment.’

‘Indeed?’ Hester looked at the battered example he had taken off as they met. ‘If that is so, one wonders why you did not bring them with you?’

‘Ah…’ Jared smothered a laugh. She had him there. He had spoken too hastily. ‘Perhaps I should say that I had plenty of hats once.’

‘You were once in the position of being able to live decently, I believe?’ Hester said. ‘Mr Birch gave us only sketchy details, Mr Clinton—but we have been told that you lost everything gambling?’

‘Yes, most of what I had,’ Jared agreed, keeping a bland expression as he lied. ‘I still have a small property back home.’

‘Yes, well, Grandfather isn’t rich either,’ Hester told him. ‘He has some property and the land. Unfortunately, his sons and grandsons were mostly gamblers, including my father.’

‘Do you think it right that I should take the duke’s money for clothes?’ Jared asked, his expression giving nothing away. ‘No point in pretending to be what I ain’t—is there?’

‘I am not at liberty to confide my grandfather’s plans for you,’ Hester said with a frown. ‘I do know that you must be presentable if you are to succeed in the best circles in English society.’

‘I’m not sure I wish to succeed. In fact, I wasn’t planning to stay around long enough to meet your society friends, Miss Sheldon.’

‘Oh but you must,’ Hester cried. ‘If you don’t…Grandfather is relying on you, sir. Surely you want your inheritance? It is not as much as it might have been, but it is still considerable and it might—’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t for me to say.’

‘But you are privy to his plans, aren’t you?’

Hester felt her cheeks becoming warm under his scrutiny. ‘It would be quite wrong of me to disclose anything he may have told me.’

Jared sat down, crossing his long legs in front of him. He gave her a direct look. ‘I have plenty of time, Miss Sheldon.’

‘Really, we must go. I have taken the liberty of making an appointment for you to be fitted. It would be most rude of us to be late.’

‘I don’t think I should go anywhere until you tell me exactly what the old man is expecting of me.’

Hester looked at his stubborn face and sighed inwardly. If she had harboured any doubts that he was truly the heir, they fled. She had seen that look in her stepfather’s eyes, and often in the duke himself.

‘It is Grandfather’s hope that you will marry to advantage. The family needs new money to restore it to its proper place in society.’

‘Damn the old devil!’ Jared’s eyes gleamed with sudden anger. ‘So that is why he summoned me and dragged you into this business! He wants me to marry an heiress.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose that is what he wants—what the family needs,’ Hester said reluctantly. ‘You weren’t brought up here and so you may not understand what your heritage means, but it is respect and family values—’ She stopped as she saw his expression. ‘What? Why are you so angry? It is no more than happens in many families of this kind.’

‘Family values?’ Jared said in an icy tone. ‘Where were they when he cut my mother out of his life? She wrote to him when I was born and afterwards. Her letters were never answered—can you imagine how much that hurt her? Do not preach to me about the family, Miss Sheldon. As far as I am concerned, I have no family—at least none in this country.’

Hester stared at him, her face pale. ‘Then why did you come? Why did you raise our hopes? If you had no intention of helping us restore the family fortunes, why not simply tell Birch that you wished to cut the connection?’

Jared got up. He had been wondering about that himself for the past several minutes. He went over to the window, staring out at the garden, his back rigid with anger as he considered his answer.

‘Curiosity, I suppose. I wondered what kind of a man could cut his daughter out of his life simply because she ran away with the man she loved.’

‘Grandfather loved her,’ Hester said, and there was a little sob in her voice, because she knew how badly the duke would take this disappointment. ‘I suppose his pride wouldn’t let him answer her letters, but I know he still loves her.’

‘Sure of that, are you?’ Jared rounded on her, his eyes dark with anger, his mouth set in a thin line. ‘What makes you such an expert? She certainly didn’t know it, if you do.’

‘Grandfather is proud,’ Hester defended him, her face pale, her eyes carrying an unconscious appeal. ‘Sometimes he says and does things that he doesn’t mean—but that does not make him a bad man. He has always been loving and generous to me…’ A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, trickling down her cheek. She tasted its salt, but she made no attempt to brush it away or the others that silently followed. ‘He is an old man, Mr Clinton. He doesn’t have long to live. Please, I beg you, won’t you at least humour him for a while? No one can force you to marry an heiress, but if you would just let Grandfather believe there is hope…for a while…’

Jared was standing over her now, his eyes blazing. He was furious that she could ask such a thing of him. What right had she or any of them to ask anything of him? She had none and he was determined to punish her, to punish them all for what they had done to his mother. Hardly knowing what he did, not thinking at all, he reached out, gripping her by her arms, gazing down at her. He pulled her to her feet. Looking into her eyes, he felt something stir inside him, and, without understanding why, he lowered his head, his mouth touching hers.

He hadn’t meant to kiss her, had not realised how it would feel when he did, the fire that shot through him so unexpected that he reacted instinctively. His mouth possessed hers thoroughly, his tongue seeking access, forcing her to open to him by sheer willpower, slipping inside to explore her sweetness. She tasted like honey and wine, intoxicating. He felt his control slipping. He was inflamed by the taste and scent of her, the way her pliant body seemed to melt against him. She might have rejected him had she chosen, pushed him away, but she didn’t, allowing the kiss to go on for as long as he chose, looking at him in a dazed manner as he finally drew away from her. Her eyes were wide, hazy with passion and startled, as though she had never been kissed—but of course she must have been.

‘I should not have done that,’ he said as sanity returned. ‘I was angry, but my mother’s unhappiness was not of your making.’

Hester touched a finger to her lips. She had made no protest while he kissed her and she made none now. ‘I am very sorry that your mother was unhappy, Mr Clinton. I think Grandfather loved her better than any other of his children, and I know that Papa often spoke of her. I am sure that he did not know her letters had been rejected.’

‘As I said, it wasn’t your fault—but I cannot forget what she suffered.’

‘Was she not happy with her husband and you?’

‘Oh, she was happy most of the time,’ Jared said. ‘She loved Pa and he loved her—but thinking of the past made her cry.’

‘That does not mean she was unhappy,’ Hester said. ‘I cry sometimes when I think of people I love. Especially John. He was my brother and he died in a riding accident when he was sixteen.’ Her eyes darkened with emotion. ‘He was such a good rider. I have never understood how it happened.’

‘You think it might not have been an accident?’ Jared asked, his gaze narrowing as he saw the indecision in her face. ‘You have your suspicions, I think?’

‘Yes…though I have no idea who would want to kill John,’ Hester admitted. ‘He wasn’t even the heir then. Papa was still alive.’

‘I have been told that the Sheldon family is cursed,’ Jared said. ‘I think that is nonsense, don’t you?’

‘Yes…but John believed it,’ Hester said and frowned. ‘He told me the story once. It is very tragic and perhaps there was a curse laid on us many years ago, but I do not believe that it killed them all.’

‘You mean your uncles and cousins? You aren’t sure they died of natural causes either, are you?’

‘I don’t know…’ Hester looked up at him. ‘Who would want them dead?’

‘Someone who could not inherit until they were?’

‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes widened. ‘But you…no, I do not believe it.’

‘But you cannot help wondering, can you?’ Jared said, a glint in his eyes. ‘Has it crossed your mind that I might have had them killed so that I could inherit?’

Hester stared at him, because something of the kind had been in her thoughts, but he was so angry…so proud. Her instinct told her that she ought to trust him; it would be unfair to suspect him of anything so evil.

‘I do not know what to think,’ she said. ‘So many deaths…No! I cannot believe you capable of that, sir. I do know that you have tried to deceive us into thinking you something you are not…that awful accent…’ She gave a choke of laughter. ‘Did you really imagine it would work, Mr Clinton?’

Jared stared at her in stony silence for a moment and then he grinned. ‘Well, damn my eyes if the little girl ain’t rumbled me.’

‘I do not think there is much I can teach you in the way of manners, for your mother will have done that when you were a boy,’ Hester said. ‘But I might be of use to you in other ways—we do have some odd customs here, you know. If you were prepared to give Grandfather a little of your time, I would be pleased to help in any way I could. And there are other things. I could teach you to dance, perhaps?’

‘Maybe,’ Jared said, smothering a desire to laugh. ‘I dare say there are things I need to know about the family.’

‘Anything you wish to know, of course.’

‘Well, you could start by telling me who visited this house last evening.’

‘Last evening?’ Hester frowned. ‘We were out for the evening, but someone did leave his calling card. His name is Mr Stephen Grant—he is a distant relation. Grandfather’s great-nephew I suppose, once removed.’

‘What exactly does that mean?’

‘The duke had a half-brother—the son of his father’s second wife, and Mr Grant is that half-brother’s grandson.’

‘I’m not sure how things work over here,’ Jared said. ‘As things stand, I am the duke’s heir, right—but what happens if I die?’

‘Well, I suppose Mr Grant would inherit everything. He is Grandfather’s only other male relative.’ Hester looked at the way his mouth had thinned. ‘May I ask why?’

‘You may ask, but for the moment I shall not answer,’ Jared said. ‘I’m not sure about anything.’ His brow furrowed. ‘When are we going down to the duke’s estate?’

‘As soon as you have your clothes,’ Hester said. ‘If you wish, of course?’

‘As it happens, I don’t think I have much choice,’ Jared replied, all trace of the twang gone. His expression was serious, his eyes a deep blue-green. ‘I have something to do here, Miss Sheldon. I am not sure where it will take me, and I am not sure of my motives for doing it—but for the moment I am happy to go along with things as you had planned.’

‘You mean you will humour Grandfather for a while?’

‘You could put it that way.’

Hester nodded. ‘In that case, we could go and buy you a new hat—unless you do not think it necessary? And you will need clothes for the ball…dancing shoes, perhaps?’

‘I am perfectly happy to buy a new hat in your company,’ Jared said offering her his arm. ‘I shall make my own arrangements about paying for it—but I expect you to keep that part of it to yourself.’

‘All I ask is that you give us a chance to welcome you to your family, sir.’

‘Is that really all you ask, Miss Sheldon?’ Jared’s smile was challenging. ‘Don’t you really expect me to marry an heiress so that I can repair the damage caused by the fire last year?’

‘You know about that?’ Hester’s smooth brow furrowed. ‘Mr Birch has exceeded his duty.’

‘Mr Birch did not breathe a word other than as he was instructed,’ Jared said. ‘I have my own ways of finding out the truth, as someone else may discover to their peril before too long.’

Hester stared at him, feeling uneasy once more. This man ran very deep, she sensed it, sensed the underlying menace, the core of steel. She knew that there was much more to him than she had ever imagined—and she’d never dreamed he would have kissed her so wonderfully—but could she trust him?

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