The Scarred Heir

by Denise Patrick

  “Why is that?”

  She turned her eyes forward and watched a squirrel scamper across their path and up a tree.

  “Because, until I turn twenty-one and make my own will, that’s how my father indicated his wealth should be divided. Once I turn twenty-one, my father assumed that I would create a will of my own—or be married.”

  “I see.”

  They continued on in silence. A rowdy group of boys ran by and Max slipped his arm around her waist, holding her close to his side until they were past. When he let her go, she noticed he was favoring his injured leg.

  “Should we return? I do not want you to do too much on that leg.”

  He smiled at her as they came to an empty bench beside the river.

  “I will be fine, but I wouldn’t mind if we sat for a bit. Jumping out of windows is not the sort of exercise recommended for healing gunshot wounds.”

  They sat and he stretched his legs out before him.

  “I’m certain that’s why my uncle wanted me to marry your brother. And why they were going to split my inheritance. I still don’t understand why your brother would agree to such a plan,” she returned to their discussion.

  “I don’t either. If the SA of David’s book is truly your uncle, he obviously has something dire on David to get him to pay blackmail and coerce him into marriage too.”

  Curiosity compelled her to ask, “Is he paying my uncle very much?”

  “If I read it correctly, about one hundred pounds a month. It may not seem like much when compared to the Calderbrooke fortune, but when you realize David has been paying that amount for more than two years, it is a small fortune in and of itself.”

  Stunned, she looked up at him. “More than two years?”

  He nodded. “I’m guessing your uncle did his homework, and trapping David was carefully planned.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “David has no need of your fortune. But your home is another story. Is Statler Hall entailed?”

  “No. But what has that to do with all this?”

  “I’m thinking it’s what David stood to gain.” He reached up and ran a hand through his hair and down across his neck. The motion ruffled his hair, making him seem softer. “The land Statler Hall sits on used to be part of Calder Lodge. A few generations ago one of the earls nearly bankrupted the earldom with his gambling and risky investments. He sold parcels of the land to raise cash, only keeping the Lodge itself and a small piece of land it sat on. Once the trust was established and solvent, his son began to buy back those pieces of property. Statler Hall is the only piece left that hasn’t been repurchased.”

  “So that’s why…now, I understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “My father told me he’d received offers for the Hall, but hadn’t considered selling it. He said once I married, if I didn’t plan to live there, I should consider it myself. I wonder if your father has tried to purchase the Hall in the past and been rebuffed.” A flock of birds were startled from a nearby tree, their calls ringing in the air as they flew away. “It never occurred to me that Lord Royden might be interested in my home rather than my father’s fortune.”

  “I suspect you weren’t supposed to know.”

  “How will you go about finding out what he is being blackmailed about?”

  He tilted his head and looked down at her. “I’m not sure. I have my man, Dodson, doing some digging for me. I’ll see what he comes up with.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand to her. “In the meantime, we will try to carry on as usual, but be careful of where we go.”

  As she put her hand in his, a spark of electricity raced up her arm. For a moment she stood looking up at him, wondering what he would do if she gave in to the pull she felt and stepped close enough to rest her head against his chest. Then he turned with her hand in the crook of his arm, and the moment was lost.

  Chapter Nine

  It was only the pain in his leg that kept Max from giving in to the impulse to pull Sarah into his arms and kiss her. Turning away from the invitation in her eyes was one of the most difficult actions he’d ever taken. The last thing he wanted was for her to realize how much he wanted her. She’d only consider him a fortune hunter—and she’d be right.

  What had he to offer her, anyway? Nothing. He was only a second son with an admittedly generous allowance. Until he’d purchased a commission, he and David had lived in each other’s pockets. It was no surprise to him that David could get away with pretending to be both of them. It was likely very few people remembered there were two of them. And those they’d gone to school with probably hadn’t given them much thought. Neither he nor David had made any close friends. He’d done nothing with his life, except nearly get himself killed at Waterloo.

  He glanced down at the woman walking beside him. What had possessed David to allow himself to be sucked into her uncle’s greed? She was drawn to him. Knowing that, he wondered why David hadn’t courted her on his own. Max did not doubt David could have had her and left her uncle behind. No coercion would have been needed. Or would it?

  Could she really tell them apart as she’d intimated to her solicitor? Or had that been a story to explain his presence with her now? Were he and David so different now that strangers could tell them apart? He knew if anyone noticed the scar on his neck, they could use that to tell them apart, but could she do so otherwise? If the circumstances were different and he and David had courted her, could she have kept them separate? And which one would she have chosen?

  Dusk had fallen by the time they reached the hackney. His thigh throbbed as he helped Sarah inside and joined her with a heavy sigh of relief.

  “You have done too much on that leg.”

  The scold was wrapped in concern, immediately lifting his spirits.

  “When we get back, you must have it wrapped in a warm towel and prop it up for the rest of the night. A little laudanum will help you sleep.”

  He leaned his head back as the conveyance began to move, and closed his eyes. Rustling noises and a slight rocking of the hack caused him to open his eyes in time to see her move into the seat beside him. Eyes he could barely see in the darkened interior looked up at him.

  “Are you all right?”

  He shifted on the hard seat and pain radiated through his leg. “Yes,” he lied. “I’ll be fine. As you say, staying off it tonight will help.”

  The flash of white in the darkness told him she smiled. A clean fragrance reached out to him, wafted around him, enveloped him. He took a deep breath.

  “But you won’t take any laudanum.”

  Her breath brushed his jaw. All it would take was a small shift in position, and slight lowering of his head. The memory of her softness and her response was never far from the surface. Now it rose to tease him. To taunt him with the reminder that he’d wanted more. Needed more.

  Turn away. Look out the window.

  The strident voice was ignored as he bent his head. Just one touch, he promised himself. Just one. Enough to find out whether his memory was playing tricks on him.

  His throat tightened, cutting off his air. The lightheaded sensation he’d experienced before returned. In the darkness, he could tell nothing except her face was tilted toward his. Was she waiting for him? His pulse doubled.

  The hack stopped with a lurch and a hard rap on the top startled him. He jerked back, hitting his head against the side.

  “Max?” Her voice was breathless. “Are you hurt?” She reached up to him, but her hand contacted with his temple and her fingers threaded through his hair.

  He closed his eyes and bit back a groan. “I’m fine.” He managed to capture her questing fingers just as the driver opened the door.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t trust himself to say more. Scrambling out quicker than was necessary, he glanced down to assure himself his leg wasn’t actually on fire before he turned to assist Sarah from the vehicle.

  She hovered around him as he paid the
driver, her nervousness almost tangible.

  “Do you need some help?” she asked as the hack pulled away. “You can lean on me, if—”

  “Sarah.” He was holding on to his composure by a mere thread.

  Grabbing her hand, he hurried her through the lobby and up the staircase. Once in their suite, he dropped into an overstuffed chair before the fireplace, put his head back and, once again, closed his eyes. Waterloo hadn’t killed him. The highwayman hadn’t killed him. The wound in his leg hadn’t killed him. But Sarah just might.

  “Yer brother’s got it out fer you. He knows yer back in England.”

  Max accepted the warmed cloth from his man and wrapped it around his leg.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Dodson was straightening the items on top of the dresser.

  “I followed a man who left the townhouse this afternoon. The one what left right after you.”

  Max sat up and turned to look at the small man. “You saw me?”

  Dodson grinned. “Yep. I woulda said sumpin’ but you got away too fast. Thought mebbe you didn’t want the chap ta see you. So I followed him instead.”

  “And?” Max picked up his snifter and took a sip of brandy.

  “That highwayman wasn’t no accident. Name was Jarvey. He wuz s’posed to off you.”

  The brandy lodged in his throat. “What?” The burn caused by its return caused him to cough.

  Dodson took the snifter out of his hand and pounded him on the back until he was only wheezing. Through watery eyes, he looked up at his valet.

  “Are you certain?”

  The man only nodded. He handed Max his brandy back.

  “Why?”

  “Dunno.”

  Max took a large swig of the liquor. The burning path into his stomach helped to focus his thoughts and clear his head. Dodson removed the cloth from his leg and replaced it with another. The warmth on his wound was soothing, the pain lessening as it seeped into his muscles.

  “Why in the hell would David want me dead? I don’t have anything he doesn’t have—and more.”

  “Dunno.” The manservant was now tidying clothing and putting them in the clothespress. “I wuz gonna follow him tonight and see whut I could find out.”

  “What kind of crowd does he run with?”

  “The regular, I s’pose.” Dodson stuck his head inside then emerged a few moments later and closed the door.

  “Come over here and sit,” Max snapped. Dodson’s revelations had made him irritable and all he wanted to do was question his batman about his brother.

  Dodson did as he was told and looked at him.

  “He has some of the same friends you had at school. They go to gambling halls, brothels, all the usual places I guess young swells frequent. Sometimes they go to Templeton Manor.” The short silence was oppressing and Max took another drink then put the empty balloon glass down.

  “Why does that name sound familiar to me?”

  “Cuz that’s your estate. It wuz given ta you fer bein’ a hero.”

  Max slumped in his chair. “I’ve gotten soft and forgetful.” But he knew it was more than that. He hadn’t really thought about returning to England, so he’d deliberately blocked things he could no longer enjoy from his memory. Templeton Manor was such a place. What did he need with an English estate when he couldn’t return?

  Except now he had. And he had Lion to thank for it.

  Dodson splashed a little more brandy in his glass then put the decanter away.

  “So whut does you want me ta do now?”

  Max sat up. “This afternoon I found a book of payments in David’s desk. There’s another due in two days. There were only initials—SA—so I’d like you to watch the house and see who shows up. I’m thinking SA is Sir Samuel Andallen.”

  Dodson nodded. “I’ll find out whut I kin.”

  “In the meantime, I think I’m going to have to impersonate David if I go out in public. I borrowed clothes from his room at Calderbrooke, but I’m going to need some of my own made up. We are no longer exactly the same size.”

  “I know whut tailor he uses. I’ll take yer measurements and go see him tomorrow.”

  “We may have to come up with an excuse to have him deliver not only the clothes here, but also the bill.”

  “Leave it to me, sir.”

  Max did not reply. Staring into the flames, he wondered if he shouldn’t just return to France and leave David to whatever he was up to. The difficulty was that Sarah was involved and he’d made a promise. There was also his father to worry about. He shook his head. He had no choice now. He had to see whatever it was through. A deep foreboding rose in his chest, squeezing his lungs and stifling his airways. Nothing about this entire situation made him think it could be resolved happily for everyone involved.

  If David had, as Lion suggested and he was now beginning to believe, killed Millie, how far would he go to keep it a secret? And was it the only secret he was keeping?

  Sarah tossed and turned for most of the night. Unable to forget that moment in the hackney when she thought Max was going to kiss her again. And unable to forget how much she’d wanted it to happen.

  She tried closing her eyes and willing herself to sleep, but all that did was create a black velvety backdrop on which Max’s image appeared. Finally, she gave up on sleep and sat up in the bed. The room was as dark as her eyelids, but she could see a small sliver of moonlight through the heavy drapes. She sighed.

  Why now? Why, when she was so close to achieving independence, did she suddenly feel as if it was no longer important? Instead she was entertaining thoughts of Max and the way he made her feel.

  This was not how it was supposed to happen. She was not supposed to fall for another handsome face this close to claiming her life back.

  And what of your father?

  The whisper out of the gloom caused her to suck in a sharp breath. How could she lose sight of her original goal so easily? She still needed to find her father. She could not afford to become too close to Max until she knew what happened to her father. That’s what should be most important right now.

  It’d been over two years. Did she truly believe her father was still alive, or was she just holding on to a false hope? Tears started in her eyes. She couldn’t give up on him now. He was the only reason she wanted her independence. Finding her father was her goal. Only now she was beginning to question her priorities.

  Max had told her he didn’t covet her inheritance, but there was no doubt that if they did marry, he would become a very rich man. He might not be a fortune hunter, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of the ramifications of a match between them.

  She sighed. There were too many sides to the puzzle she’d blundered into. Tomorrow, she’d think through as many of the pieces as she could. Then perhaps she could ask Max about the pieces she didn’t have, and whether he meant it when he told Mr. Payne he would accompany her to France.

  Feeling as if she’d figured out a difficult problem, she snuggled back under the covers and this time managed to drift off to sleep.

  The morning mist was still thick on the ground when the sound of galloping hoofbeats echoed through the trees. Two horses raced along the banks of the river, their riders bent over straining necks, pushing the animals hard. One pulled away as they reached an apparently agreed upon point, then both gradually slowed until they were stopped.

  “Must have been out late last night,” one of the men taunted as the other caught up. “I hope she was worth it.”

  The second one laughed.

  The two companions walked their mounts for a bit before the first one ventured, “I never thought you’d buckle to the tabbies.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’ve never been interested in the petticoat line before.” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “But I suppose every man has to succumb sooner or later. Especially one with a title to carry on.”

  His friend stopped and turned in his saddle. “Wh
at in the bloody hell are you talking about?”

  Taken aback, Major Geoffrey Shafly reined in his mount and turned to face his friend. “You. And the piece I saw you with last evening at the Pulteney.”

  “The what?” His horse pranced under him and David had to consciously release his grip on his reins. “What piece? You mean a woman?”

  “Of course,” Geoffrey replied. “I didn’t see her very well, and you seemed to be in a hurry, so I didn’t bother to call out to you.”

  “I see.”

  Geoffrey laughed. “I would have thought Madame Celeste would have been happy to provide you with one of her girls and a room without the need to take up at the Pulteney. Although…” Speculation laced his voice. “She didn’t seem like one of Celeste’s girls. Looked too well dressed.”

  David said nothing, preferring not to add to his friend’s conjecture, but he was anything but amused.

  “I wanted some privacy. Something I obviously didn’t get, but I would prefer you not speak of this to anyone else.”

  A sly smile curved Geoffrey’s lips. “Don’t want anyone to know, eh?” When David said nothing more, he loosed an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, very well, no mention of your newest light o’ love will cross my lips. I suppose it was inevitable, with the title—”

  David rounded on him, fury tightening his words. “I’ve told you never to speak of that!”

  Geoffrey was immediately contrite. “I beg your pardon. I keep forgetting I’m the only one who knows who you really are.”

  David relaxed then smiled and turned the subject. “I’m thinking about inviting a few friends down to Templeton in about a week. Plans aren’t firm yet, but keep your calendar open.”

  “If it’s anything like the last gathering, I’ll be the first one there.”

  “We can drive down together.” They turned their mounts back the way they’d come. “I’ll send a note to Calderbrooke so they know where to find me if my father takes a turn.”