The Scarred Heir

by Denise Patrick

  “How is he, by the way?”

  David shrugged. “Better, I think. At least that’s why I came back to London in the first place. The country has nothing on the delights of Town.”

  Geoffrey put back his head and laughed out loud. “You have never made a truer statement.”

  David watched his friend’s tall, lanky frame move with his horse, hoping he’d diverted his attention from the events of the night before.

  So, Jarvey was dead. His plant in the solicitor’s office hadn’t been able to confirm it, but Geoffrey had without knowing it. Jarvey had been too well paid to let his quarry escape. Had Max been with his friend, Lion, when Jarvey accosted him?

  For a brief moment, David allowed himself to feel relief that Max was back. But only for a moment before reality intruded. He couldn’t afford to be soft, or maudlin. There was too much at stake.

  He turned from his friend, staring off across the green expanse of the park, his thoughts in the past. None of this would have happened if Max’s friend hadn’t started digging around in affairs that were none of his business. He should have just gotten rid of Lion when he first learned about the inquiries. But, he’d thought them harmless. After all, Lion knew nothing about Millie.

  Of course, none of the events of the last five years would have happened at all if Millie hadn’t taunted him. If she hadn’t started putting on airs, thinking herself above the whore she was. And if she had kept her knowledge to herself. It was all her fault. She deserved to die for all the misery she’d caused since then.

  It wasn’t David’s fault Max spurned her advances. She shouldn’t have even been in the house that night. But when he’d discovered her leaving the house and tried to comfort her, she’d turned on him. His gut still churned at the way she’d looked at him, the names she’d called him, the sound of her laughter mocking him.

  You’ll never be the man your brother is.

  At that moment something inside him snapped. He’d only meant to shake her. To tell her he was better than his brother. He was the heir. The future Earl of Calderbrooke. He didn’t want to be his brother. He didn’t need to be his brother. But when the fury passed, she lay dead in the grass.

  He shook his head. No use dwelling on it now. He’d made his choices that long ago night. There was no place to go except forward, no matter how much he wished he could go back.

  Not far from the park, Max walked through the early morning fog trying to clear his head. He’d purposely walked in the opposite direction of the park in the hope of not seeing anyone out for a morning ride. The last thing he wanted was to cross paths with someone he or David knew. Instead he walked east on Pall Mall then along the Strand until he came to the new bridge. Paying the toll, he walked to the center of the bridge where he stopped and leaned against the edge, staring down at the murky water of the Thames.

  He’d gained little sleep the night before. Thoughts of Millie and David haunted him. He still had no idea why David might have killed Millie. Nor did he understand why David would allow himself to be blackmailed over it. And if that was the reason David was being blackmailed, how had Sarah’s uncle learned of it?

  A pigeon landed on the bridge not far from him and he looked over at it. It cocked its head, as if expecting something.

  “I haven’t any bread,” he told it. When it merely continued to watch him, he addressed it. “Perhaps you know what this is all about? You’ve probably been to the house. Listened in at the window, perhaps? You probably know what David’s about. It’s unfortunate you can’t talk.”

  He shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. The bird flew off.

  “Reduced to talking to the birds now. Perhaps I ought to just go and offer myself up at Bedlam.”

  Straightening, he turned and watched a hackney pass by, then headed back the way he’d come. He had no answers. Hell, he didn’t even know the questions. Maybe it was time to go have a talk with David. The only question needed answering for that was whether he should take Sarah along.

  As he turned onto The Strand, a young man was walking toward him. He paid little attention, except to note the young man’s brightly hued clothing, until the man addressed him.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  Startled, he responded automatically. “Good morning.” He had not intended to stop, but the young dandy continued speaking.

  “We missed you last evening.”

  He stared as his mind raced for an appropriate reply. “I was detained unexpectedly.”

  Obviously a young gentleman, he inclined his head in acknowledgment before offering, “I had to leave early myself. Not that I expect you to remember me.”

  Max knew he’d never laid eyes on this young man before and was relieved to be handed an opening. “I must confess I do not.”

  “I told Peter you wouldn’t, but it’s not important.” He gave Max a warm smile. “Perhaps the next time you come, I will introduce myself.”

  “I would appreciate that.” Saved the necessity of asking the dandy his name, Max gave him a nod and added, “Until then.”

  The young man returned the nod and continued on his way. Max watched him walk away, wondering why he’d felt uncomfortable in the young man’s presence. He shook himself. It was likely just the shock of being engaged in conversation with a person he’d never met before who acted as if he knew him. It had happened all the time at Oxford. But somehow he knew this morning’s interaction was different. Not only did the young man seem a bit young to be part of David’s circle of friends—he couldn’t be more than twenty—but there was something overly familiar about his manner. If he could put his finger on it, he just might have a clue to what David was up to.

  He turned and continued on his way. Perhaps he really ought to just confront David and tackle the problem head on. A smile curled his lips at the possibility. But first, he’d wait and see who Dodson saw leaving the townhouse. It was best to have as many pieces of the puzzle as possible before acting.

  Sarah didn’t see Max until the afternoon. She’d slept in that morning after her fretful night, but the day still dragged as she waited for word. She’d debated whether to send a note around to Mr. Payne telling him about the informant in his office, but decided that was the kind of news better delivered in person.

  Her instincts told her the solicitor could be trusted, but she was uneasy about relying on them. Last night those selfsame instincts would have had her throwing herself at Max.

  Standing at the window of the sitting room, looking down at the small garden in the rear of the hotel, she wondered where Max was when the door opened behind her.

  She turned, expecting Annie. “Tea time al—Oh!”

  Max closed the door and crossed the room. She had to take a deep breath and force herself to continue to breathe as she watched him approach. The black superfine stretched across broad shoulders like a second layer of skin. His hair was trimmed neatly and brushed back from his forehead. A waistcoat the same color as his coat contrasted with the white linen of his shirt and cravat. If it weren’t for the less formal trousers and boots he wore, she would have thought he was dressed for an evening out on the town.

  He grinned. “I’ve been told before that clothes make a man, but I’m not sure I believed it until your reaction.”

  She was saved from replying by the arrival of Annie with tea. As she directed Annie to a low table to lay it out, her eyes kept straying back to Max lounging against the window. She would never mistake him for his brother, but dressed as he was, the ton surely would. He’d always had a commanding presence, but in his new finery, “peer of the realm” was stamped all over him.

  Taking a deep breath, she faced him as Annie left.

  “She must have known you were coming.” Relief poured through her when her voice did not echo the trembling of her limbs. “She brought two cups and plenty of sandwiches and biscuits.”

  He joined her, sitting in one of the two chairs across the table from the settee she perched upon, his injured leg stretch
ed out before him.

  “I apologize for leaving you alone all day.” There was an odd timbre to his voice and she looked up from pouring tea. “I got caught up trying to decide what to do, and then made a trip back to my father’s solicitors to ask some questions.”

  “Did you get any answers?” She added two lumps of sugar to the cup of tea then handed it to him. Their fingers brushed as he accepted it and she nearly jumped off her seat at the jolt of electricity that sizzled up her arm.

  “Some, but certainly not all.” He settled back in his chair and took a sip, watching her pour and prepare her own cup.

  Gratified her hands held steady, she picked up her own cup and took a sip. The warm liquid helped to calm her, and she settled back against the cushions of the settee.

  “I was mistaken for David masquerading as me this morning. It was a very odd feeling.” He took another sip of his tea in contemplative silence. “It was more than just that I had no idea who the young man was, but he addressed me as ‘sir’ not ‘my lord’ as would have been proper had he been addressing David.”

  There was an uneasiness about him suddenly. She couldn’t put her finger upon it exactly, but his discomfort regarding the morning encounter was plain.

  “Despite that there is still much to learn, for now I am considering leaving town.” He put down his cup and saucer and looked directly at her. “What would you say to either confronting David or a trip to France?”

  Shock kept her silent a moment too long.

  “I suspect we’ll have to confront him sooner or later, but my vote would be for later—at least until after we sort out your father’s situation.” He continued as if talking to himself. “Of course, that brings with it its own set of problems, but I think we can manage.”

  She shook her head as she set down her cup and saucer. Why was she surprised they were thinking the same thing, or close to it?

  “No?” Max’s incredulous question interrupted her musings. “You do not want to go to France to find your father?”

  Flustered, she stammered, “No, I mean, yes. Yes, of course I want to go.” She selected a biscuit and took a bite.

  “When will your new wardrobe be finished?”

  He studied her as she swallowed.

  “The entire wardrobe, not for at least a fortnight, but Madame promised me the bare essentials by Friday. Just a few dresses. If we leave before the rest are finished, I can have them delivered to Statler Hall or Calderbrooke.”

  He nodded. “And that leads to my next question. Would you like to visit Statler Hall before we leave? If not, I would feel better knowing your wardrobe was safe at Calderbrooke than at your home if we have no idea who is still there. If, as Mr. Payne said, your aunt and uncle are asserting you are dead, they may have taken up residence there.”

  “I–It never occurred to me.” Indecision swamped her. She wanted to try to find her father, but the thought that her uncle might be living in her home… A sigh escaped.

  “I thought to return to Calderbrooke before we leave. I could apprise my father of the situation and let him know where we are going.”

  She nodded in understanding. “That is good. After your last trip to France, you ought to tell him yourself why you’re leaving.”

  “Dr. Clayborne wanted to look at my leg too. I never got around to letting him before we came to Town. Also, I could check for a letter from my friend, Marceau, although it hasn’t been very long since I wrote to him.”

  “Marceau?”

  “A friend in France. I wrote him from Calderbrooke and asked him to try to find your father. Knowing we might not make it there in less than a month, I thought enough time had been wasted.” The sheepish smile that appeared melted her heart. “I was hoping I’d have news for you before we headed for France.”

  Chapter Ten

  Max slipped through the garden gate of the Calderbrooke townhouse as dusk was settling over the city. He hoped that if anyone saw him, they would assume he was David even if they might wonder why David was entering his home from the alley. He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the rear door and stole inside. There was no light in the library, but that was the least of his worries as he crossed the carpet to the desk. Lighting the brace of candles perched on the edge might dispel the gloom. Unfortunately it might also bring unwanted intrusions. His leg protested as he slowly lowered himself to the floor.

  The setting sun provided just enough light. It didn’t take him long to find the deed again and secret it inside his coat pocket, before turning to leave as he’d done before. Luck had been on his side this time, but it didn’t remain as long as he wished.

  He was standing behind the desk, debating whether to go through the other drawers when he heard the front door open and footsteps on the tile outside the door approaching quickly. Only a few moments more and he would have been gone. Now he was trapped. The alcove was his only hope and he turned and scurried up the ladder, ignoring the shooting pain in his leg. Flattening himself on the floor as far back in the alcove as he could get, he hoped whoever it was wasn’t here for a long social call.

  “I tell you, Andallen, I’m not going to continue this much longer.” David’s angry voice carried across the library. Light flared as candles were obviously lit.

  “Is that any way to speak to an old friend?”

  Max didn’t recognize the gruff voice that answered his brother.

  “Don’t try to gammon me,” David spat. “Friends don’t blackmail friends.”

  Andallen’s voice took on a dramatic air. “You wound me, my lord. Blackmail? Such a dark word for merely a sale between friends.”

  “Don’t call me that,” David snarled. “I’ve told you before. In Town, I’m just Max, a mere Mister.”

  Andallen snorted. “I don’t know why you insist on shunning your title while in Town.”

  “My brother’s business is none of yours.” Max could almost envision David glaring at the other man in the silence. “As for our alleged sale, you may have your little collection back at any time with my blessing. They are on the shelf behind you.”

  Max wished he could see what they were talking about, but he didn’t dare move.

  “I think I shall leave them where they are,” came the reply. “They may come in handy one day. Perhaps your brother will find them useful.” The skepticism in his tone was clear.

  David’s chuckle was light, unconcerned. “Whether you believe my brother exists or not is not my concern. He has his uses.”

  “You’ll never find a bride that way.”

  “Don’t.”

  David’s discomfort was obvious in the terse reply.

  “Oh, I forgot. You don’t want a bride.” Andallen’s voice turned dark and ugly. “I nearly forgot your poor performance two years ago.”

  There was the clinking of crystal as someone poured a drink.

  David’s laughter was the furthest thing from humorous Max had ever heard, and the malice in his voice was clear as he continued, “One of the most entertaining mornings of my life, watching you get thwarted by a mere slip of a woman.”

  “If I remember, you lost that morning as well.”

  “Not nearly as much as you. And you forget. It’s difficult to lose something I never wanted.” There was silence, then David continued in a patently false, but curious, tone. “Tell me, Sir Samuel. Have you found your wayward niece yet?”

  “No, but I no longer need to. I plan to petition the court to declare her as dead as her father.”

  David’s chuckle this time was filled with vindictive humor.

  “I think not.” A drawer opened then closed with a snap. “Here’s your money.”

  “What concern of it is yours whether I have my niece declared dead?”

  “Nothing, any longer. Except that I happen to know her whereabouts. And, my dear friend, she is very much alive.”

  “What?”

  David laughed out loud at Andallen’s shocked question.

  “How did you find her? And wh
ere is she?”

  “Oh, I think I will keep that information to myself for a while. Perhaps until late June. If I remember correctly, she comes of age in June, hmmm?”

  Max shifted slightly, flexing his leg. Flattened on his side with the wall against his back, he held himself stiffly so as to make no sound but his leg was beginning to complain. He hoped David only planned to taunt Sarah’s uncle and not actually tell him where she was. He might have to make himself known and do something drastic if that happened. As it was obvious Andallen didn’t believe there really were two of them, he didn’t want to reveal himself just yet.

  “Now take your money and get out. I grow weary of this game. We both have something on each other, and while your information might be more scurrilous, don’t forget I pay you because I choose to. One of these months I may decide to stop.”

  Max dearly wanted to see the two men’s faces, to see if David was bluffing or deadly serious. That knowledge would help him decide his next move. Regrettably, he didn’t dare try to look over the edge.

  Heavy footsteps on the carpet then the opening and closing of the door told Max Andallen was gone. He remained where he was, uncertain whether he was alone or if David still remained below. The squeak of the chair behind the desk gave him his answer.

  “Soon, I think,” David’s tired voice floated up to Max. “I’ll have to get rid of you too, Andallen. I suspect it will be the only way.”

  There was a light knock on the door, which opened at David’s call.

  “Cook has prepared a light repast, Master Max,” the butler informed David. “Would you like it served here?”

  “No, Griffin, I’ll have it in my rooms as usual.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Moments later, the candles were snuffed and the door shut with a soft click. This time Max was certain he was alone. Sitting up, he massaged his leg and stared into the darkness for a long time as the conversation replayed itself in his head.

  Whatever hold Andallen thought he had on David, it wasn’t very strong. So, why would David willingly pay blackmail?