Richard soon decided he’d done his duty. Leaving Emma with her grandmother and Jamie, who’d also joined them, he set out for Manton’s on Davies Street. He could certainly do with the practice; being too slow to even take a shot at the would-be assassin had demonstrated how rusty his reflexes were.
Deciding it would be safe enough to venture out on his own in broad daylight, he set off. Untroubled with thoughts of assassins, he concentrated on Emma and his confused feelings for her. What was he going to do? His body was telling him one thing while his more cautious mind was warning him off becoming entangled. He was definitely attracted to Emma, of that there was no doubt, but she would cause havoc in his life. Would he be able to deal with that? Besides, she’d declared that she would never marry… could he even change her mind? Whatever happened, he needed first to solve the mystery of who had a grudge against the family. He’d made a promise, and it was one he was going to keep.
After a pleasing hour or so practising his shots, Richard felt better. Returning his pistols to their box, he looked up to see Francis Heslop, also about to leave.
‘Good day, Heslop. Fancy seeing you here.’
Francis hesitated, then smiled.
‘Oh, it’s you, Easterby. Good to see you.’
Richard, eager to make the most of the opportunity, strolled over.
‘What luck that we should meet.’ Richard’s eyes rested inquiringly on the rather magnificent carved wooden case under Heslop’s arm.
Heslop, seeing his look, answered, ‘His Grace insisted I learn to shoot, so I thought I might as well try out these beauties.’ He lifted the lid. Inside were two exquisite flintlock duelling pistols.
Richard sucked his cheeks in. ‘They certainly are beauties. They look French. Such craftsmanship.’
‘Yes, that’s right, by Boutet. Wheatley gave them to me last year,’ Heslop answered, his face flushed. ‘I thought it was about time I learned how to fire them. Not that I’m expecting to be called out, you understand. No jealous husbands chasing me.’ He slanted an amused eye up at Richard. ‘They are rather nice, aren’t they?’
‘They are indeed. Wheatley must think very highly of you.’
Heslop’s eyes slid away. ‘Yes, erm… he’s a very generous man.’
Richard, knowing he’d rattled Heslop, decided a change of subject was in order.
‘What do you say to a bite to eat? I know somewhere close by that serves quite tolerable food.’ Heslop seemed to waver, so Richard pushed a bit more. ‘Go on, what do you say? I could do with some male company.’ To his relief, Heslop nodded.
‘Oh, all right then. Why not?’
The two men strolled the short distance from Manton’s to Grosvenor Street and the Mount Coffee House and Tavern. Seated in a pleasant dining room, they ordered the soup, alamode beef, and salad, to be washed down with a bottle of claret.
Richard, wary of alerting suspicion, kept the conversation light, or as light as conversation could be in such troubled times. They discussed the war being waged on the continent and the disaster of the previous year’s Walcheren expedition.
‘Do you ever think about purchasing a commission?’ Richard asked.
Heslop shook his head.
‘No, that life is not for me. I don’t think I could kill anyone, not even in anger.’ He wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘It’s true I sometimes feel guilty about not actively defending my country from the Corsican and his madness, but my work for Wheatley means I’m helping the war effort in a small way.’
‘Really? How?’ Richard couldn’t disguise his disbelief.
Heslop reddened. ‘Many of the crops grown on the duke’s estates are sold at a low price to the army, and of course he employs vast numbers of people. Many are families of men who’ve gone away to fight.’ There was a hint of fervour in his eyes. ‘We’ve got to keep things running smoothly at home so that the men who do fight for king and country know they have something to come back to. Though I think the government could do more for the families left behind and invalided soldiers. Some of the stories one hears are quite shocking. Then of course there’s the hidden war against Napoleon…’ Heslop’s mouth closed sharply.
Richard wondered what he’d been about to say.
Heslop cleared his throat. ‘My apologies. I don’t usually rant on, and I generally keep my opinions to myself.’ He twirled the stem of his empty glass between his fingers, then looked directly at Richard. ‘Look, Easterby, I’m not very brave and I generally prefer a quiet life. But I feel I can talk to you. You see, Nate’s accusation is true. I do keep myself apart from society because I can’t deal with the cut direct that I often get when Wheatley isn’t with me. Apart from Nate, you and Mr Cullen are nearly the only individuals who do acknowledge me, and for that, I thank you.’
Richard waved his hand. ‘No need for thanks.’ This wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
Heslop poured himself another glass and sipped it slowly. From the faraway look in his eyes, he seemed lost in his thoughts.
Richard, despite his initial suspicions, had been moved by Heslop’s words. Here was no vindictive, vicious character. But to be certain… Richard smiled to himself. He had an idea. It would be risky and could get him into trouble with Emma. In fact, it would certainly get him into trouble, but he convinced himself that she’d agree to his subterfuge, particularly if it bore fruit.
Richard leaned forward and, in a confidential tone, said, ‘Well, talking about a quiet life, may I share my news with you?’
Heslop looked up and met his eyes. ‘Go on.’
‘I’m hoping shortly to be betrothed. It’s about time I settled down and established myself as a family man. You may wish me good luck.’
Heslop’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘I say, that sounds serious. So, you haven’t asked her yet? Who is the lady?’
Richard thought Heslop sounded genuinely pleased – or was he just a very good actor?
‘The lady? Oh, she’s a distant cousin.’ Richard shrugged. ‘We only met recently, but I think we’ll rub along together pretty well.’
For some reason, the words were not far off the truth. There was no denying the physical effect she had on him. Could he learn to live with an independent-minded female? And could she be persuaded to change her mind about marriage?
‘And what is her name, if I may inquire?’
‘Emma Smith. Her family hails from Oxfordshire.’
Heslop shook his head. ‘No, I don’t know the family, but I’m sure she must be someone special to have attracted your interest.’ Heslop raised his glass and smiled. ‘I wish you success in your quest for the lady’s hand.’ Heslop shifted in his seat. ‘As we’re exchanging confidences, I think I ought to tell you something. Something that even Nate is not aware of.’
Richard’s pulse quickened. Was he going to hear a confession?
‘That sounds ominous. What is it?’ Richard’s light-hearted tone and pasted-on smile belied his tension.
Clasping his hands tightly together beneath his chin, Heslop started to speak. ‘Well… you know I told you that I am illegitimate?’
Richard nodded. ‘I told you before, Heslop, it makes no difference to me.’
‘But what you don’t know’ – Heslop had the look of a man facing the scaffold – ‘is that I’m related to you,’ he blurted out at last. ‘I… I realised when Nate introduced us, but… well, it’s embarrassing.’ His gaze dropped to the table.
Richard kept his tone neutral, but the blood was pounding in his ears. ‘Do continue.’
There was now a bitter edge to Heslop’s voice. ‘My father was Frederick Smythe, son of your predecessor. When Nate said your name, well, it was a shock.’ Heslop ran a hand through his hair. ‘You see, my mother was innocent. Frederick Smythe ruined her. He denied he was my sire.’
‘How can you be sure he was your father?’
‘My mother did not lie. Ever.’
The fury in Heslop’s voice shook Richard. He held up his hand in a placatory gesture.
‘I apologise. I’ve no reason to doubt your mother. But you must understand, I know nothing of her or indeed my predecessor’s family.’
Inwardly, Richard was at first jubilant. Heslop’s admission confirmed that if anyone had a motive for revenge it was he. Then doubts crept in. It didn’t seem right. If Heslop was the culprit, he’d surely be trying to hide his relationship. Nothing was making sense.
Heslop was still speaking of his mother. ‘She wouldn’t have lied to me. She only told me this on her deathbed.’ He grabbed Richard’s arm. ‘Who would tell untruths on their deathbed, about to meet their Maker, I ask you? Her uncle confirmed her story when I confronted him. The scandal sent her father to an early grave.’ Heslop sighed. ‘It seems lots of people had their suspicions but never said anything to me.’ He lifted his dejected eyes to meet Richard’s. ‘I thought it only fair to let you know in case you wish now to cut the connection.’
‘Now, why would I do that? Your quarrel is with Frederick Smythe, is it not?’
Heslop lifted his hands in a gesture of despair. ‘Yes, my quarrel would have been with Frederick, that wretch, but it’s too late now. I was too much of a coward to confront him. I’ve never forgiven myself.’ He paused to take a sip from his glass. ‘I failed my mother. I wanted so badly to hear Frederick Smythe admit his sin, to acknowledge me.’ He swallowed hard. ‘That’s all I ever wanted.’ Heslop slumped back into his seat, shoulders hunched and head lowered.
It was at that point that Richard knew for sure that the man across the table was no murderer.
‘Courage, Heslop. You’ve not failed your mother. Look at the life you’ve made for yourself. She’d be proud of you, I’m sure,’ he said bracingly.
Heslop roused himself and tried to chuckle. ‘Sorry for that. Must be the wine talking. I don’t usually blub.’
‘Nonsense, my friend. You obviously still feel very deeply about the injustice. By the way, how old were you when you discovered the truth?’
‘No more than sixteen years.’
‘Well then, what could a mere boy of sixteen years have done?’
Heslop nodded. ‘I know. That’s what Wheatley said to me.’ He smiled to himself.
Richard hesitated before asking, ‘Wheatley knows of your background?’
‘Yes, I told him some years ago.’ Heslop had regained some of his composure now and answered easily. ‘We’d become quite close, even though he is my employer, so it seemed natural to confide my past to him. He has been all that is kind to me.’
Richard guessed there was more to the story but decided to leave it there for now. He held his wine glass up to the light. ‘Nice claret, don’t you think? Westbrook seems to be able to get his hands on the finest French wines, despite our present troubles.’
‘I daresay he has his contacts,’ said Heslop. ‘I understand that the War Office is concerned about the number of people who deal with the French, even when we are at war.’
Richard guessed that Heslop was rather more well acquainted with the War Office than he was letting on. So he let Heslop’s comment pass and asked instead, ‘What did Wheatley think to Frederick Smythe’s unfortunate accident and the disappearance of the other Smythe brother and his family?’
Heslop sucked in a breath. ‘When I brought it to his attention, he said, “It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving fellow.” I assumed he only knew of him because of what I’d disclosed about my parentage, but I suppose he could have known Frederick at Eton. When I later told him of the viscount’s death, he told me not to concern myself, even though he knew the man was my grandfather.’
Heslop paused to take a drink, then wiped his mouth before speaking again.
‘Anyway, you’re Viscount Easterby now, so you’ve gained something by their deaths, have you not?’ His mouth snapped shut and he bit his lip. ‘My apologies… I didn’t mean to imply anything. Frederick’s death was a riding accident. And the other son – he was killed by bandits in Greece. They were accidents, misfortune.’ Heslop’s face clouded. ‘Weren’t they?’
Richard glared back at him. It took a moment to subdue his urge to land Heslop a facer. ‘Just to be clear, Heslop, I was unaware of my connection to the Smythe family until my solicitor informed me of the fact a very short time ago.’ Richard spoke through clenched teeth. ‘However, I’m very much of the mind that Frederick’s death was not an accident, nor was the disappearance of the younger brother and his family.’ Heslop’s face paled as Richard continued talking. ‘In fact, I strongly believe that someone has a grudge against the family. Since it was announced that I’d succeeded to the title, there have been several attempts on my life.’ Richard smiled grimly. ‘Fortunately, as you can see, all unsuccessful.’
Comprehension dawned in Heslop’s eyes. ‘My God, you think it’s me. Is that why you’ve taken the trouble to befriend me? Good Lord, I don’t believe it.’ Heslop rose out of his seat, his face a mixture of horror and disappointment.
Richard, out of patience, leaned over and grasped Heslop’s arm, tugging him back down.
‘Sit down, man,’ he hissed. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t believe you’re behind the attacks.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘But you have to admit, you have a motive. You have told me as much.’
Heslop slumped in his seat and put his head in his hands. ‘I swear. It’s not me. I left off being angry with my father a long time ago. I failed my mother, I know that. But I’ve learned to live with it.’ Heslop took a deep breath and raised his head, his chin jutting out defiantly. ‘I saw how Frederick Smythe’s actions destroyed my mother’s life. I wasn’t going to let him destroy mine by clinging on to thoughts of revenge.’ He gave a rueful chuckle. ‘I’ve enough problems without that, God knows.’
‘What problems?’ Richard was intrigued. ‘I might be able to help. Does Wheatley know?’
Heslop nodded. ‘Of course he does.’ He smiled weakly. ‘And no. You can’t help. But thank you for the offer, in any case. Forget I said anything, I beg you.’ Checking his pocket watch, he stood up and stretched out his hand. ‘I have to go. Farewell.’
Richard gripped Heslop’s hand. ‘I meant what I said. If there’s anything I can help you with, let me know.’ He sent him a meaningful look. ‘But you can also help me.’
Heslop arched his eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just keep your ears open. Someone’s taking shots at me, and I don’t like it.’
There was a brief pause as Heslop seemed to consider Richard’s words. ‘I will, you can be sure. Keep safe.’
With that, he turned and left the dining room, leaving Richard alone to ponder the day’s developments. His instincts told him that Francis Heslop was no ruthless killer. The chap was grateful for his friendship and had been open about his connections to the Smythe family. For a man who admitted that he lacked bravery, it had been a morally courageous thing to do.
Richard checked his own pocket watch. It was time to return home and share his discoveries with Emma. With a sinking feeling, he remembered that Heslop now believed that Emma and he were about to be betrothed. Would she go along with the deception? Or would she ring a peal over his head for taking matters into his own hands? He’d soon find out. Lord save him from headstrong women!
Chapter 15
‘What have you got there?’
Startled, Emma looked up to see Richard leaning over the sofa trying to peer at the volume in her lap. She’d been alone in the library, ostensibly to read, but more often than not, her mind had wandered, thinking about how he was spending his day. So far away in her thoughts, she’d not heard him approach.
‘This?’ she said, reddening. ‘It’s the first volu
me of Belinda, the novel you recommended. I thought I’d purchase my own copy.’ Feeling rather flustered, she gabbled on. ‘It’s the most recent edition according to the gentleman in Hatchards. Apparently, there are some plot changes because something in the first two editions gave offence. He didn’t give me any details, so I wonder what it was that was so objectionable. Anyway, I’ve just spent the last quarter hour cutting the pages, and now I’m not sure I want to continue reading it.’ She looked up to see him staring at her, his gaze intense and unsettling. She got the strong impression that he wanted to devour her. ‘What are you staring at? Have I got a smudge on my face?’ She brought a trembling hand up to her cheek. It was getting difficult to breathe.
‘No, you haven’t. Your face is quite… perfect.’ His voice had a husky tone.
‘Pardon?'
Had her ears deceived her? Had he just said her face was perfect? Surely not.
Richard stepped back, turning his face away from her. His voice became gruff.
‘I meant that your face is perfectly clear, of course. No smudges.’ He cleared his throat and moved towards one of the bookcases to straighten a set of volumes that the maid had not replaced correctly when dusting. ‘But… we do need to talk, Emma.’ There was a pause. ‘I’m afraid I have a confession to make.’
Emma spun round.
‘Gracious. What do you mean?’
Richard came to sit next to her. Her heart fluttered as his thigh fleetingly brushed against hers. She drew her skirts together and moved ever so slightly away. To be this close to him was far too unsettling for her nerves. Goodness, it really was getting hot in here.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I’ve left the door ajar, so we are entirely respectable. And we are cousins, so I think the rules are a little more relaxed. But what we discuss should be private.’
Emma subdued her almost overwhelming desire to lean into him and rest her head on his shoulder. It would be nice to have someone one could rely on, especially a gentleman as steady as Richard. Instead, she pulled herself together and waited for him to speak. Had he discovered who was behind the attacks? She wanted to get on with her life, take back her own identity, be independent. Didn’t she?
A Gentleman’s Promise: A Regency Romance (Gentlemen Book 1) Page 16