by Anne Herries
‘Two of my step-uncles died of a weakness in the chest, as my stepfather did at the end, though he had a long illness…but my brother was healthy. He did not appear to suffer from any hereditary weakness.’
Jared nodded. ‘There were two other grandsons—how did they die?’
‘One of them was killed when his carriage overturned and he was thrown into the road. They say he was driving too fast and under the influence of strong wine; there is talk of him having taken a bet that he could beat another man’s record. The other one died in a duel. He was provoked into it, they say, and the other man fled abroad…but he was a gambler and he lost so much money that, had he lived, I think nothing would have remained to the family.’ She raised her troubled gaze to his. ‘I do not believe in the curse, sir—but there is no doubt that this has been an unlucky family.’
‘Yes, undoubtedly.’ He frowned, wondering whether to tell her what had happened to him a few nights previously. It seemed probable that someone had paid to have him killed, though his informant might have been lying to save his own skin. Yet there was no connection that he could see, no clear indication that someone had deliberately set out to get rid of everyone who stood between him and the dukedom. And therefore no need to upset her by telling her something that might distress her. ‘It is a tragic story, Miss Sheldon, and your family has suffered tragedy too often—but it seems to me that most died of natural causes or through their own folly. Your brother’s death remains a mystery. I cannot tell you what happened to scare his horse. It was simply a tragedy.’
‘Yes, of course you are right,’ Hester agreed. ‘I know that it is foolish to dwell on these things. Nothing will bring John back, and my stepfather was ill for a long time. He caught a chill, which lingered and eventually turned to pneumonia; there was no mystery concerning his death, for Mama and I nursed him ourselves.’
Jared nodded. It did seem unlikely that anyone could have been gradually killing off members of the duke’s family, though one or two of the accidents might bear investigation. Some of the deaths might be too far in the past to discover the truth, but he would ask his agent to see what he could discover about the duel and that carriage accident. If both men had been provoked deliberately…
Jared decided to keep an open mind. If the attack on his person turned out to be nothing more than a rogue seizing his opportunity, he would forget the whole idea, but if not…it meant that someone might have to answer for more than one death.
‘I should put all thought of the curse from my mind if I were you, Miss Sheldon,’ he said and smiled at her. ‘I do not think your troubles are being caused by an Egyptian chalice that went missing a long time ago.’
‘No, of course not,’ she said. ‘I told you it was a foolish tale, and now we should join Mama, for she will be thinking you have got lost and we do not want to keep Cook waiting.’
Hester took the pins from her hair and shook it loose, looking at herself in the mirror for a moment as she started to brush it. She had been wearing her hair loose in the portrait the duke had commissioned when she was sixteen, but she had put it back out of the way when she was helping to nurse her stepfather and she had never bothered with it since. Her own appearance had seemed unimportant during the time of her mourning.
Oh, what did it matter? Hester got to her feet. She would be silly to let herself dream simply because she was beginning to like the heir rather a lot—perhaps too much. He had flirted with her outrageously in the carriage, saying things he really ought not, and kissing her.
She allowed herself to smile. She had fought the temptation to think about that kiss all evening, as there was no doubt that the more she saw of Mr Clinton the more she liked him. Oh, she ought to think of him as the Viscount Sheldon, of course, for her grandfather would insist on the title for his heir, but somehow she could not think of him as anything but the Mr Clinton who had played such an outrageous joke on her at their first meeting.
She perfectly understood his reasons now that she knew him better. It was obvious that his mother had meant a great deal to him, and he was angry at the way she had been treated—and at the implications in the lawyer’s letter. No wonder he had been offended at the idea that she would teach him how to behave in society. He did not behave as an English gentleman would, perhaps. He was outspoken and he did not try to wrap things up in clean linen, but then neither did the duke; they were more alike than either of them realised. However, Mr Clinton’s manners needed no direction; he was, in fact, refreshing, like a breath of air blowing through the stale corridors of convention. His normal accent was different, but acceptable, and there were sometimes words he used that had different meanings in England, but as yet he had said nothing out of place in Lady Sheldon’s hearing. Indeed, as they spoke for a few minutes before retiring, she had told her daughter that she thought he was utterly charming.
‘Mr Birch’s letter was completely misleading,’ she told Hester. ‘I dare say he is a gambler and he may have been down on his luck, but then your papa gambled—not as recklessly as your Uncle Thomas, but more than I felt right in the circumstances. The heir may be a gambler, but he is charming.’
‘I do not think we should hold the gambling against him, Mama. It is unfortunate that Mr Clinton lost his money, but it may not have been as much as Grandfather had heard. These tales become exaggerated in the telling.’
‘Yes, of course, dearest. Besides, it really is of no concern to us. While the duke lives he will only receive an allowance and after that…’
‘I should not like to think that the estate might need to be sold,’ Hester said. ‘But it will not be our affair, Mama.’
‘He said something rather remarkable to me earlier,’ her mother said, a little sigh on her lips. ‘He said that this house would always be a home for us if we wished it and that we must not think of leaving unless we wished—even after the duke…I thought that very handsome of him, Hester.’
‘Indeed, it was kind, but it would not be comfortable once he is married, Mama. You have been used to being the mistress here.’
‘As to that, I rather think that you are more the mistress of this house than I could ever be,’ her mother told her. ‘You know that it is beyond me. I never expected to live here. Your stepfather was never supposed to inherit. He had his own small estate, which is mine, of course, though it would have been John’s if…’ Her sigh deepened. ‘But we shall not dwell on these things. I have no wish to live there or here as it happens. I have told you that I shall retire to Bath when the time comes. I think I shall ask the Viscount to look at my estate for me. He will tell me what to do about it, for I am not sure that my bailiffs are managing it as well as they ought.’
‘Do you think you should trouble him, Mama?’
‘Oh, I do not think he would find it a trouble,’ Lady Sheldon replied. ‘I think him rather astute in matters of business. We were talking when you went up to say goodnight to your grandfather earlier this evening, and he seems a sensible man to me. When I mentioned my small estate, he promised he would see what could be done to make it less of a worry to me.’
‘That was kind of him.’ Hester frowned. ‘What makes you think him astute in such matters?’
‘Oh, he spoke of land management, and of the cost of restoring the house, which he seems to think may not be as horrendous as we imagine. He says he intends to have a builder in to see what it would take to restore the fire damage.’
‘Does he have Grandfather’s permission?’
‘I dare say he would need it to set the work in hand, but he told me he would speak to the duke about it tomorrow.’
‘I am not sure we could afford it.’
‘Well, I have no idea about these things,’ Lady Sheldon said. ‘And he did tell me that it was only a preliminary examination to discover what needed doing.’
‘Yes, but…’ Hester had not questioned her mother further. Mr Clinton had said nothing to her of these matters, but she would ask him about it the next day. ‘Goodnight, M
ama.’
‘Goodnight, dearest.’ Her mother kissed her cheek. ‘I am glad to have you home—and the viscount likes you, my love.’
‘Did he say so?’
‘No, but one can always tell.’
Hester frowned as her mother drifted away down the hall and went into her own room, intrigued by these new developments. It looked as if the heir had decided he might stay. She was still thoughtful as she finished brushing her hair and got up to go to bed. She paused to glance out of the window into the garden. There was a crescent moon and the sky was quite light, shedding its silvery glow on trees, bushes and lawns. She saw something in the shrubbery. Was it a man standing there, gazing up at the house? She could not be certain as she had seen only a shadow and when she looked harder, she could no longer pick it out; it had disappeared, perhaps a figment of her imagination.
Had their visitor gone into the garden to smoke a cigar? She knew that he did smoke them, for sometimes a faint scent of it hung about him, but it was not strong and she rather liked it. However, he had not smoked that evening, and he had not excused himself in order to do so. Perhaps he had waited until the ladies had retired. And yet…the figure had not been his, if she had seen a man at all. Mr Clinton would not loiter in the shrubbery and stare up at her room. She felt it instinctively and shivered suddenly. If it hadn’t been him, who was it? Not a servant. She was sure of that, for the silhouette she felt she had seen was of a gentleman, staring intently at the house—at her window.
‘No, you are imagining things,’ Hester told herself, and yet she fastened her window securely and drew the curtains before getting into bed and blowing out her candle. ‘It was merely a trick of the moonlight.’
Outside in the garden, the man continued to stare at the house after Hester’s candle had gone out. He frowned as he waited in the shadows. He had not expected her to look out and he wondered if she had seen him. If she had, she might wonder what he was doing here—but he believed he had reacted quickly enough. Even if she had caught a glimpse of someone, it was unlikely to have been enough for her to recognise him.
He did not want her to be aware of his presence just yet. He had not had time to decide what to do about recent developments; he must wait and watch before making his next move.
Chapter Five
Hester woke early and dressed in her riding habit, going down to the stables, as was her custom when in the country. She enjoyed a good canter before breakfast; it blew away the cobwebs of sleep and made her feel full of energy and hungry. The head groom came forward to meet her, greeting her with a smile. She was popular with everyone and always had a word for those who served her.
‘Good morning, Jones,’ she said. ‘I hope your son is better now?’
‘Yes, miss,’ the groom said. ‘The doctor said it’s just teething problems and gave Mrs Jones something to rub on his gums.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ she said and slipped her hand in her pocket. ‘I brought some sweets for your eldest boy, to thank him for the lovely flowers he picked for me before I went away.’
‘Thank you, miss, Tommy will enjoy those,’ he said and slipped her offering into his coat pocket. ‘Will Poppy do for you this morning, miss—the Viscount took Fire Dancer out for a gallop. I did mention that you sometimes rode him, but he seemed to think the horse would suit him.’
‘Yes, I was going to ask for Poppy anyway,’ Hester said. ‘Fire Dancer must be a little fresh, for he hasn’t been out much since he had that colic—is he properly over it?’
‘Oh, yes, miss, and Lord Sheldon has good hands. I don’t think you need worry.’
‘No, I shan’t,’ Hester agreed. She allowed him to give her a hand up as one of the younger grooms brought out her mare. Fire Dancer had been her stepfather’s favourite mount and Hester knew the stallion did not get as much exercise as he needed, because he would not tolerate anyone but Mr Jones or herself in the saddle. However, she had a feeling that the new viscount knew his way around horses, and if the head groom had allowed him to take out Fire Dancer, he must agree. She looked at Jones. ‘Stand back, lad. I am ready.’
‘You won’t take a groom with you, miss?’
‘I do not think it necessary,’ Hester said. ‘I shall not leave the estate and I doubt Poppy will throw me; she doesn’t have it in her nature.’
She set off at a canter, leaving the yard and racing across an open stretch of undulating grassland towards the lake. It was her favourite ride, because there were stretches of open land that were perfect for letting the horse have its head if she felt the urge to gallop. However, this morning she was perfectly content to canter, relishing the feeling of freedom and the gentle sting of the wind in her face. The duke had had some landscaping done when he was younger and beyond the lake there was a pleasant wood, which looked picturesque in the early morning sunshine. It was as she approached the near side of the lake that she saw the man on a horse at the far side. She knew at once that it was the heir and she was considering whether she should ride that way to join him when she heard the shot. It seemed to come from the trees and its immediate effect was to spook Fire Dancer.
Hester watched in horror as she saw the way the stallion shied and bucked, finally rearing up as it shrilled its terror. Oh, Jared would be killed! It would be like losing her brother all over again! The shock could kill her grandfather and she would find it unbearable.
At first all she could feel was dismay because she was not near enough to be of any assistance, but then as she watched the tussle between man and horse, she was lost in admiration. She began to realise that the new viscount was certainly not a novice when it came to controlling temperamental horses. Indeed, he showed an impressive display of coolness. He held his seat despite Fire Dancer’s attempts to dislodge him, and after a few minutes the horse began to settle, until at last he was merely tossing his head and snorting, his front hooves pawing the ground. When he had him quiet, Jared slid from his back and went round to his head, holding him firmly by the bridle and soothing him; he appeared to be talking to Fire Dancer and then he did something that seemed a little strange. Was he kissing the horse? Hester’s gaze narrowed…No, he seemed to be breathing into its nostrils and talking. Whatever it was, it had a calming effect. A few moments later, he had remounted. Hester waved and rode around the perimeter towards him. Jared came to meet her. As she got closer, she saw that his expression was grim.
‘Oh, well done, sir. You managed him brilliantly. Did I hear a shot just before Fire Dancer tried to throw you?’
‘It came from the direction of the woods,’ Jared said. ‘I felt the ball whistle past my cheek. A fraction closer and I should have been hit.’
Hester stared at him in shock. ‘No! I had no idea. I thought it must have been a poacher in the woods.’ Her eyes narrowed in dismay as his words sank in. ‘You don’t think it was deliberate?’ She read the answer in his face. He did think it had been a deliberate attempt on his life. ‘But why…Who would want to kill you? Hardly anyone knows you are here.’
They sat close together, gentling the horses, Hester trying to come to terms with what he had just told her. If the shot had been meant for him, someone who did know he was staying here must have fired it.
‘It isn’t the first time,’ Jared said. ‘A clumsy attempt to rob and kill me was made in London as I left a gambling club. I didn’t tell you, because I wasn’t sure that it was anything more than a chance attack, even though the rogue told me he had been paid to do it. I thought he might have been lying to save his own neck, but now I must think again. It seems someone wants me dead.’
Hester’s face was very pale. She felt a little sick and her stomach was churning. ‘Because you are the heir?’
‘I am keeping an open mind for the moment,’ he said. He seemed so calm and she followed his example. Clearly he did not intend to make a fuss over his brush with death. ‘What you told me about your brother—I believed it was quite possibly just a simple accident—but what would you have thought had
I fallen and broken my neck and the horse went off in a wild gallop and possibly injured itself?’
‘I might have wondered if you had found Fire Dancer too much for you to handle, though I ride him myself and he is well behaved as a rule.’ Her manner was as controlled as his own, though her throat felt tight and she wanted to scream her rage aloud. How dare someone do this outrageous thing?
‘But the horse was new to me and you could not know if I was up to handling him, therefore there would have been doubt—which would be a clever way of disposing of me without arousing too much suspicion, I think.’
‘Yes…’ Hester looked at him intently. It seemed so fantastic to speak of these things, but she must hold her nerve, as it was obvious that he expected her to remain calm. ‘It does seem plausible, even likely…but who would want you dead?’
‘I have no idea. Unless the gentleman you spoke of in London…Mr Stephen Grant.’
‘He would inherit,’ Hester agreed. ‘Yes, I know the suspicion must fall on him, but I do not think…’ She shook her head. ‘I would not have thought it possible that he would even consider it, Mr Clinton, but I heard the shot myself and I saw what happened. It was a miracle you were not thrown at the very least.’
‘Why do you consider Mr Grant above suspicion? Is it because he is a man of the cloth?’
‘In part,’ Hester agreed. They were walking the horses side by side; to a casual onlooker it must seem that nothing untoward had happened. ‘But I do not think him an ambitious man…somehow he would not fit the part as you do.’
‘You think I fit the duke’s shoes?’ Jared’s brows rose. ‘Good grief! You surprise me, Miss Sheldon.’
‘I surprise myself,’ she said and laughed softly. Some of the tension had drained away in the face of his coolness. She found herself thinking that he would be capable of handling anything. ‘At first I thought I should not like you in my grandfather’s place, sir, but I have discovered that you have many attributes that would bring distinction to the part.’