The Unknown Heir. Anne Herries
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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