“I wish I knew,” Max replied to Sarah an hour later over dinner. “Very little of this is making sense. If David actually killed Millie, which I’m thinking is true, did he only blame me in order to get me to leave the country so he could assume my identity? And why would he want to assume my identity when his own is much more desirable?”
“Perhaps to him it isn’t?”
“What isn’t?”
“His own identity.” Sarah took a bite of roast lamb. “If he truly doesn’t want to marry, then perhaps assuming your identity is his way of assuring that the mothers of the ton are less interested in him.”
Max chewed his own bite of lamb thoughtfully. “You may be right. I wonder if your uncle is blackmailing him over his own identity. Perhaps David is willing to pay him to keep quiet for now, but once he decides to re-assume his own identity, he will refuse to pay any longer.”
“I don’t remember him being quite that devious.” She took a sip of her wine. “I’m not sure I would have thought he’d kill anyone either. Perhaps I’m just a terrible judge of character.”
The wine left her lips stained red and Max had to squelch the urge to reach across the table and sample the wine from them. He’d thought of little except her all day. When he made the decision to retrieve the deed from the townhouse earlier, he hadn’t expected to learn what he’d sent Dodson to discover. Now that he had, his choices were suddenly limited.
Confronting David seemed the best option. On the other hand, he didn’t want Sarah caught in the middle and left to the mercy of her uncle. Despite Mr. Payne’s assurance that her uncle was not truly her guardian, Max was certain the law would consider him so until her father was located. He planned to ask that specific question at the first opportunity.
“David taunted your uncle with his knowledge of your whereabouts. If the same clerk is spying for your uncle, tomorrow might bring an unpleasant surprise.”
“Do you suppose my uncle will try to force me to go with him?”
“It can only happen if he finds you. What say you we move to another hotel for our last night in Town? If not for the delivery of dresses you expect tomorrow, and that I need to see my father’s solicitor one more time, we could just leave.”
“Perhaps we could leave after luncheon, provided my clothes have arrived and you’ve taken care of your business.”
“Did you not want to see Mr. Payne again?”
“No, I don’t need to. And if I left for Calderbrooke instead of Statler Hall, the clerk wouldn’t know where I am. I could write to Mr. Payne once we are back at Calderbrooke. I should like him to know I plan to go to France since I will need funds.”
Max waved his hand. “We will worry about funds when we return. It might be better not to have Mr. Payne know where you are. Remember what he said happened to the last person who went to France in search of your father.”
She paused, a forkful of potato halfway to her mouth, then put the fork down.
“I had forgotten.” She sat back in her chair, her hands falling into her lap.
Max wished he hadn’t reminded her that someone obviously not only wanted her father dead, but also seemed to want no one to know what had happened to him. Nor did he want to remind her that it might be her own uncle. He gave himself a mental shake. He couldn’t let her forget the possibility. At least one person had already lost his life trying to uncover the truth. As far as he was concerned, it was his responsibility to see that she wasn’t next.
“Miss? Miss, come quick.”
Annie’s agitated voice pulled Sarah from the novel she’d been enjoying.
“What’s amiss, Annie?”
“Dodson says to hide you. He says a nob is comin’ to find you an’ you ain’t s’posed to be found.”
Sarah frowned at the nearly incomprehensible explanation as she followed the maid into her room. “What do you mean, I’m not to be found?”
“Dodson says the master had him watchin’ while he’s gone an’ he’s s’posed to hide you if the man came.”
Light dawned. Her uncle. “Where should I go?”
“You ken stay in here an’ I’ll tell him you went out.”
Sarah shook her head. “He won’t take your word for it.” Thinking quickly, she motioned Annie toward the other door. “Where are the back stairs?”
Clutching her book, Sarah watched Annie check the hall first before motioning her to follow. Hurrying down the stairs behind her maid, Sarah cursed herself for a coward. If she wasn’t so close to actually going to France in search of her father, she might have stayed to confront him. Not having Max with her made her less sure of herself.
“There’s a small room back here where some o’ the ladies’ maids eat. I don’t think anyone will be there right now. You can wait there.”
The room was small and dim, but clean. The odor of stale food met her, but it wasn’t strong enough to be offensive. After Annie left, Sarah sat near the small window and re-opened her book. Unfortunately, not even the trials of poor Elinor Dashwood could hold her attention as with each footfall outside the door, she expected her uncle to appear.
The minutes crawled by, each one longer than the last. Worry for Annie took root. Would her uncle threaten the maid? Would he harm her? What if he refused to accept Annie’s word that she wasn’t there? How would she know if Annie didn’t come back for her?
Annie said Dodson had been looking out for her uncle. Had Dodson gone to find Max when her uncle showed up? What would Max do if he returned and she wasn’t there?
Sarah shook her head. Too many questions. Not enough information.
Twice she got up and crossed to the door. Both times she scolded herself for her impatience. She would wait. Annie would be back soon. The traffic beyond the door ebbed and flowed as servants came and went.
She opened her book again and tried to immerse herself in the fine prose of Sense and Sensibility to no avail. There was nothing to see outside the small window except shadows as it was tucked beneath an overhang of some sort. The room was bare except for a table, some chairs and a sideboard with dishes stacked on top. Nothing worth exploring.
A sigh escaped and she paced to the door and back. Ten steps to the door. Ten steps back. She stopped and counted slowly to one hundred then continued her pacing.
“Arrrgh, I can’t do this anymore.” Throwing up her hands, she marched over to the chair by the window and snatched up her book.
If she had to face down her uncle, so be it. Hiding was driving her mad. Tensing at the sound of each footstep was making her shoulders ache.
At the top of the stairs, she listened for voices. Hearing none, she slipped into the hall and located the door to her room, thankfully near the back staircase. The door opened on silent hinges and she held her breath as she closed it with a soft snick. Tiptoeing across the carpet, she skirted the large four-poster bed and listened at the door to the sitting room.
Unfortunately, there was nothing to hear. No sounds at all came from beyond the wood panel. She stared at it in consternation then went to a window. Based on the shadows in the small garden below, she guessed it to be a little after noon. Max had been gone all morning—he should be back soon.
She found her green pelisse in the wardrobe and put it on. With her reticule dangling from her wrist, she opened the door to the hall cautiously then stepped into the empty corridor. As she passed the door to the sitting room, she resisted the urge to stop and listen at the door, but hurried by and down the main staircase to the lobby.
Luck was on her side today. Max entered the front doors of the hotel as she was descending the final few steps, his face set in grim lines. Dodson hurried to keep up with his master’s long, determined strides, talking and gesturing in an agitated manner. Relief, and something else, crossed Max’s features when he looked up and noticed her, but it was nothing compared to the sudden tranquility that washed over her as she took in his imposing figure. Sanctuary was never so appealing.
“You are unhurt?” The anxiet
y in his voice soothed her further. “Or did you manage to escape your uncle’s notice?”
“Annie warned me and I slipped down the back stairs,” she replied. “Unfortunately, I don’t know whether he is upstairs or not. Annie never returned to where I was hiding.”
He glanced around the hotel lobby for a moment then gestured toward the dining room. “We cannot stand here. Shall we have lunch?”
Before turning her toward the hotel’s eatery, he gave instructions in a low voice to Dodson, who nodded and quickly headed up the stairs.
“Dodson will see to Annie.” He steered her into the dining room and requested a table near the back, out of sight of the lobby. Once seated, his warm gaze met hers and she had to force herself to speak calmly.
“Did you finish your business this morning?”
“Yes, but you may not be happy with the results.”
“Me? Why?”
The waiter brought them bowls of fragrant soup and her stomach growled. Her cheeks reddened as she spread her napkin across her lap and picked up her spoon.
“I stopped in to see Mr. Payne. I hadn’t planned to, but some impulse prompted me to do so. I’m glad I did.”
“Did he have any more information?”
“No. But he did confirm something I’d suspected.”
He watched her take a spoonful of her soup before picking up his own and dipping in.
“With your father unavailable and you still underage, someone must be considered your guardian. Unfortunately, that someone is your uncle as your nearest male relative.”
“But—”
“He explained that as the reason his father was unwilling to intervene two years ago, despite that he apparently knew your uncle merely coveted your inheritance.”
She put her spoon down. “I don’t understand. If my uncle is my guardian, wouldn’t he have access to my inheritance? I don’t know exactly how these things are done, but I remember reading a sad story once about a young woman whose guardian apparently spent her entire inheritance before she came of age and there was nothing she could do about it.”
He nodded. “It does occasionally happen, but it couldn’t in your case. Your father left specific instructions and a will that only left you a specified amount until you came of age. In addition, Mr. Payne told me he also left instructions that all bills you incurred were to be presented to Mr. Payne for payment. By that, your father effectively ensured that none of your funds would end up in your uncle’s hands, except indirectly.”
“And this is supposed to make me unhappy?”
Max didn’t answer immediately and they remained silent while they finished their soup. Moments later their server removed the soup dishes.
“Not that, but Mr. Payne did inform me that if your uncle found you, he would have the law on his side if he insisted that you reside under his roof.”
The waiter returned with the next course, but Sarah could only stare at Max in dismay as his words sank in.
“Did Mr. Payne have a suggestion of how to best thwart my uncle?”
“Actually, yes, but you may not be pleased with his solution.” Max took a bite of roast beef then washed it down with a sip of wine before continuing. “I thought that taking you back to Calderbrooke would be enough. It probably would as long as your uncle doesn’t learn that you’re with me. Unfortunately, we cannot guarantee that. This morning’s scare is proof of that.”
She took a small bite of her own dish. The meat was tender and well seasoned. At another time and place, she would have eaten with relish and enjoyed the savory meal. Now she merely watched Max in growing alarm.
“I’m assuming you didn’t inform Mr. Payne that there was a spy in his office?”
He shook his head. “I would have if I’d still been there when Dodson caught up with me, but by then I was already on my way back here.”
“What did Mr. Payne suggest? And what makes you think I will be displeased about it?”
He hesitated before he answered in a low voice. “Because I have nothing to offer.”
As the meaning of his words filtered through her confused brain, she discovered she wasn’t as averse to the idea of marrying him as she thought she would be. In fact, the idea caused warmth to suffuse her entire body and she dropped her gaze to her plate.
He reached out and laid a hand over hers. “I’d be little more than a fortune hunter were I to marry you now, no matter the reason.”
How would he react if she told him it didn’t matter? That she’d marry him and not care at all. That even finding her father was beginning to take on a lesser importance to remaining with him. His hand was comforting despite that it set her stomach to fluttering.
“I have an estate,” he continued. “I’ve never been there. Have no idea how large or small it is, although it isn’t far from Calder Lodge.”
She looked up. “Which also means it isn’t far from Statler Hall.”
He smiled. “That too.” He removed his hand and she felt the loss of comfort.
“Would you want to go and see it?” She forced herself to take another bite of her meal.
“Not just yet,” he demurred. “We have a trip to France to take first. I have my solicitor, Mr. Harmsen, making arrangements. Not long after we return to Calderbrooke, he should have them completed and an itinerary sent to me with all the information. Hopefully we will be headed to France in a fortnight.”
The information should have excited her. She was excited. Wasn’t she? Max was following through on his promise. She would find out what happened to her father? Knowing was better than speculating, and she’d know for certain if her own instincts were correct.
So, why did the prospect not fill her with the unbridled joy she expected?
She was not as excited as he expected. In fact, if he were to hazard a guess, he’d swear she was disappointed.
“Have you decided now you do not want to go to France?”
She’d eaten little, merely pushing her food around on the china plate between small bites.
“Of course I want to go. I suspect it is the only way I will know for certain what happened to my father. Yet, I wonder, if he is still alive, why he has not attempted to contact me or Mr. Payne in all this time.”
An excuse. Had the mention of marriage, even indirectly, worried her?
When Mr. Payne told him point blank that the only way to stop her uncle was to marry her now, he’d been thrilled. It was what his father wanted. Hell, it was what he wanted. Yet, practicality had forced him to look at the prospect from her point of view.
He was not a good catch. He had nothing to offer her except an estate he’d never seen. He had no idea if the estate, granted him by the Crown for heroism at Waterloo, even came with funds for its upkeep. His own portion of the Calderbrooke trust was substantial, but nothing compared to his brother’s. Even so, he doubted it would cover the lifestyle most women of their class expected.
His mother had been such. Spoiled and demanding. Threatening and vindictive when she didn’t get her way. How his father lived with her was beyond him. As children, he and David hadn’t experienced that side of her, but they knew it was there. Thankfully he’d seen nothing of his mother’s tendencies in Sarah. Nothing would have induced him to assist her if he had.
He could easily live quietly in the country with only occasional trips to London. After the battlefields of France, crowds no longer provided the camaraderie he’d once enjoyed. Too many of the friends who were once part of that crowd were now gone.
He looked over at the bent head across from him. She was carving up a piece of fruit, slicing it into smaller and smaller pieces, yet eating none.
“Sarah,” he kept his voice gentle. “What’s wrong?”
She looked up at him. He couldn’t put a name to what he saw in her eyes. Confusion? Worry? Distress? A hint of tears? Why wasn’t she pleased?
Her knife and fork clattered to the plate and she put her hands in her lap. He’d never seen her so agitated.
&n
bsp; Suddenly her eyes cleared and she drew herself up straight in her chair. Her lips trembled then firmed as she steeled herself. Her next statement could not have surprised him more.
“I wouldn’t consider you a fortune hunter.”
He couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe her. If he married her now, when she was so vulnerable, what would happen when her father returned? When her world returned to whatever semblance of normalcy she expected. He shook his head.
“Why not?” The insecurity of minutes ago was gone.
“Because I have nothing to offer you except an estate I’ve never even seen. I have an annuity from the family trust that keeps me from the poorhouse, but little else.”
“We would have my—”
“No!” He hadn’t realized how much the thought of living on her expectations bothered him until she voiced it. She flinched as the occupants of nearby tables turned in their direction. He squirmed in his seat and surreptitiously scanned the room. Where was Dodson?
She regrouped and started to say something.
He stood abruptly. “We will finish this discussion upstairs.” If Dodson hadn’t gotten rid of her uncle, he might yet have no other choice, but he would not have this discussion here, in public, where someone might overhear.
Minutes later he ushered her into a blessedly empty sitting room. Dropping her pelisse and reticule into a chair, she crossed to her room and checked inside. He did the same for his room, noting that his trunk sat open beside the bed. Neither servant was present.
Sarah stood in the center of the room, her features pale. Uncertainty hung over her like a cloud. He tried, unsuccessfully, to steel himself. She had to see that marrying him was wrong for now. He had no idea what the future might bring, but at this time it was the wrong choice.
Large blue eyes watched him as he crossed the carpet toward her. He meant to stop before her, far enough away so he couldn’t touch her, but he couldn’t resist the lost look in her eyes. Before he knew it, he was holding her, enjoying the soft curves pressed close, the sweet smell of flowers in her hair.
The Scarred Heir Page 14