The Inheritance

by Joan Johnston

  Nicholas couldn’t keep his eyes off Daisy as she crossed to the other leather chair in front of the desk and sat down. He knew a great deal of the rigidity in her carriage was due to the whalebone corset she wore, but that couldn’t account for the regal tilt of her chin or the frost in her green eyes. She perched on the edge of the chair in a different brightly colored gown from the one she had worn that morning, looking like nothing so much as an exotic green and yellow bird about to take flight.

  Somehow he knew she wouldn’t flee. Her resolve was evident in the set of her jaw, in the tightly clenched hands in her lap, and in the flash of mutiny in her eyes.

  “You may continue, Phipps,” he said.

  “As I was saying, Your Grace, you’ll need the cooperation of your tenants to achieve any kind of success in such a monumental undertaking. I mean, to restructure the entire workings of the estate, it’s an almost overwhelming task, and nearly unprecedented, I might add. I asked Her Grace to be here this afternoon because I believe she can be of assistance to you.”

  “I don’t want her help,” Nicholas said flatly.

  “Good,” Daisy retorted, rising immediately. “Then I’ll excuse myself.”

  Phipps rose and blocked Daisy’s path, but he had to keep backing up to avoid coming in contact with her, which would have been an outrageous breach of decorum. “Please, Your Grace, don’t make a hasty decision. Think of the tenants. They’ll be the ones who’ll suffer if His Grace fails. And he surely will, without your help.”

  They were halfway to the door when Daisy stopped in her tracks. She kept her hands clasped before her, though she desperately wanted to put them to her temples to stop the pounding in her head. “Surely you’re exaggerating,” she said to Phipps.

  “I’m not,” Phipps replied. “Not at all.”

  “I’d like to know what you think she can do that I can’t,” Nicholas snapped. He came around his desk and joined the couple at the center of the Aubusson carpet. “Who’s in charge here, anyway?”

  “You are, Your Grace.” Phipps swallowed audibly. “But Her Grace has been managing the estate for the past year, and the tenants have learned to trust her and respect her decisions.

  “In short, Her Grace has earned the goodwill of the tenants. To be perfectly frank, they love her, and if I may be so bold, Your Grace, they will do anything for her. Even endure the sort of upheaval this change is bound to cause.”

  “Are you saying they wouldn’t obey the current duke as they would the previous duchess?” Nicholas inquired.

  “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, you are a foreigner.”

  “My father grew up in this house. My parents lived here after they were married. I was born in a bedroom upstairs,” Nicholas said in an ominous voice.

  Phipps flushed painfully. “But your father banished—”

  “Am I the duke here, or not?”

  “You are, Your Grace,” Phipps conceded.

  “What I believe Phipps is trying to say,” Daisy interceded, “is that your absence has put you in an awkward situation.”

  “You’re telling me,” Nicholas muttered.

  “Would you excuse us, Phipps,” Daisy said. “I would like to speak to His Grace privately. We’ll call you when we need you again.”

  Phipps looked anxiously from Daisy to the duke and back again. “Are you certain—”

  “I’m not going to ravish her, Phipps,” Nicholas snarled. “Now get out of here and leave us alone.”

  “Very well, Your Grace.” Phipps showed his disapproval through his icy tone, but he left the room without a backward glance.

  “Now, Daisy,” Nicholas said, crossing to the door and leaning against it, crossing one booted ankle over the other, effectively blocking her escape. “What did you want to say to me?”

  Daisy turned to face him. “Phipps is right,” she said, getting directly to the point. “You’re going to have difficulty managing the tenants on your own. At least in the near future. I’m willing to help.” Her fingers curled until her knuckles were white. “However, there is a price for my services.”

  Nicholas remained in his lazy pose against the door, but he was anything but relaxed. “Oh?” He felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew about mercenary women. He was surprised Daisy hadn’t shown her true colors before. He felt more comfortable now that she had taken off her false mask of innocence and vulnerability. She was just another conniving, calculating bitch. Like all the women he had ever known.

  His lips curled in contempt. “How much do you want for your … services? A quarter of the estate? Half?”

  She had the grace to blush. “I don’t want money.”

  He raised a dark brow but said nothing.

  “I want you to marry me.”

  Nicholas laughed, a harsh, raucous sound.

  Daisy hurried to speak before he could refuse her. “It can be a marriage of convenience.” She felt a sharp pang at the loss, and the long years of loneliness, she would suffer if he agreed to a marriage without intimacy. “Even so, our marriage would be an obvious sign to the tenants that I accept you and approve of what you’re doing. We can approach them together as husband and wife, urging them to make the changes necessary for the benefit of everyone.”

  “And when I sell Severn Manor and return to America? What then?”

  Daisy met his mocking gaze. “I would stay here. In the dower house, which you would deed to me.”

  “Why?” Nicholas demanded.

  “What?”

  “Why are you willing to sacrifice yourself so nobly?” he asked in a derisive voice. “Because it would be just that, wouldn’t it, Daisy? A sacrifice?”

  “As I said, it can be a marriage of convenience. In which case, I would sacrifice nothing.”

  He shook his head.

  “You won’t marry me?”

  “Not on the terms you’ve stated.”

  “On what terms, then?”

  “I would want to get full value for my sacrifice,” Nicholas said. “I would want to have a wife who was a wife.”

  “I’m not sure that would be a good idea, Your Grace,” Daisy said hesitantly. She wasn’t sure which would eventually cause her more pain, the real marriage or the false one.

  “Then we’re at a stalemate,” Nicholas said. “Shall I call Phipps back in? If I have to take a loss, that’s what I’ll do. I can’t see the back of this place fast enough!”

  “You’re really going to sell Severn Manor?” Daisy asked in an agonized voice.

  “As quickly as I can, for as much as I can get.”

  “No. Don’t sell just yet. I’ll … I’ll marry you on any terms you ask.”

  “You realize you’re only postponing the inevitable,” he said.

  “Yes,” Daisy said in a voice that quivered with emotion.

  “Very well, then. We’re agreed. We’ll marry.”

  Daisy nodded, her chin so high her neck was stretched tight. That would explain her inability to swallow, or to speak. But there was one more thing she needed to say to him before she was through. One more painful revelation that needed to be made.

  “I can’t have children,” she said.

  He raised a brow, but otherwise his expression didn’t change. “It isn’t necessary for you to produce any. I have an heir. In fact, under the circumstances, I would say your barrenness is a decided advantage.”

  Daisy paled. “I’ve never thought so,” she whispered.

  Nicholas caught himself wanting to comfort her again. Damn the woman! She was too vulnerable for his peace of mind. He forced himself to stay where he was. “I’ll call Phipps back in. He can make all the arrangements.”

  Later that night, as Daisy stared at the white lace curtains that framed her canopied bed, she wondered how she had allowed herself to get into such a predicament.

  She had maneuvered the duke into offering for her, as Priss had suggested she ought. So why did she feel as though she had been the one manipulated? Why had Nicholas agreed to such a pact
? What was he going to get out of it?

  She knew the answer to that question. He was going to get the only thing he wanted from her: the privilege of her company in bed. Nicholas didn’t know it yet, but he had made a terrible bargain. Fortunately, there was no way he could escape once the vows were read between them. She would be his wife. And he would be bound to her for better or worse.

  He just didn’t know the worst yet.

  But she hadn’t gotten such a bargain, either. She hadn’t avoided the sale of Severn Manor by agreeing to marry the duke, only postponed it.

  Unless she could use the little time she had with him to change his mind. Daisy hadn’t missed the duke’s savage response to Phipps about having been born at Severn Manor. Now that she thought about it, Tony had mentioned how the three cousins had spent their summers together. Which meant Nicholas must have some fond memories of his time at Severn Manor.

  Was it possible to revive those memories? Was it possible to make Nicholas care again about a heritage that had been lost to him for most of his life?

  Why not?

  Daisy listened to the little voice inside that said all things were possible. She knew from her adventures over the past year that she was capable of a great deal. Could she also work a miracle with Nicholas Calloway? Could she teach the duke to love Severn Manor again?

  He must have loved it once, she reasoned. Who could live here and not love it? He had been born here, had lived here the first eight summers of his life. Surely she could revive those halcyon days for him.

  If she was going to go that far, she might as well go all the way and revive in him—instill in him—a sense of responsibility toward the people of Severn Manor.

  But how?

  Perhaps there was some way she could make the problems of Severn’s tenants real to him. Perhaps if she introduced him to some of them, they would become persons, rather than faceless names. Surely he wouldn’t be able to ignore them then. But who should she take him to see? And how was she going to get him to go?

  Daisy spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning and thinking. She arose the next morning with a plan firm in her mind. She would do it. By the time she was finished, not only would Nicholas love Severn Manor, but the people of Severn Manor would honor and revere him. In her head, it was all so simple. All that remained was to accomplish the impossible.

  Nicholas spent an equally sleepless night—once he got to bed. When he answered the knock on his door after he had retired, he found his son standing before him.

  “Come in, Colin. What brings you here this hour of the night?”

  Colin hadn’t yet learned to hide his emotions, and Nicholas easily perceived his son was upset. Yet the boy didn’t immediately launch into speech. He crossed the room and stood at the window, staring out into the darkness. Nicholas stayed by the door, waiting patiently, knowing that Colin would be more likely to reveal his problem if he wasn’t pushed into doing it.

  “How soon are we leaving here, Pa?” Colin asked.

  Nicholas smiled. “We just got here, Colin. Are you homesick already?”

  Colin turned and Nicholas saw the tension in his son’s face and body. “I’m not homesick at all.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t fit in here, Pa.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I never once thought of myself as being any different because you weren’t married to my mother,” Colin said seriously. “That sort of thing matters here.”

  Nicholas hissed in a breath. “The circumstances of your birth don’t make you different from anyone else.”

  “But I’ve been treated differently because of it.”

  “By whom?”

  “It doesn’t really matter, Pa.”

  “It does to me,” Nicholas said in a dangerous voice. “I asked a question, Colin. Who treated you differently?”

  The whole story came pouring out. How Colin had met the most beautiful girl in the world. How they had gone walking in the gardens of Rockland Park. How he had felt his heart was going to pound out of his chest when she looked up at him. How they had returned to the drawing room, and he had been confronted by the earl, Lady Roanna’s father, and been told in no uncertain terms to keep his distance.

  “Because I’m a bastard, Pa.”

  Nicholas’s lips flattened. “I’ll speak to the earl, Colin.”

  “Would you, Pa? I wouldn’t ask except I want to see Lady Roanna again. At first I figured to see her no matter what her father said. Then I started thinking maybe she wouldn’t agree to see me if her father didn’t allow it. It would be easier all around if the earl changed his mind.”

  “You’re that smitten with her?” Nicholas asked.

  Color rose in Colin’s cheeks, but he met his father’s gaze. “I never met a woman like her, Pa. She’s … my heart … I can’t breathe when I’m around her, my chest is so tight. I want to protect her and … and hold her.”

  “I see.” Nicholas couldn’t keep the frown from his face. He had known the day would come when his son fell in love for the first time. Strangely, he hadn’t infected Colin with his disdain for women. Not that he hadn’t warned his son that a woman wasn’t to be trusted, but that admonition had fallen on deaf ears. Colin trusted everybody. That was Simp’s doing, Nicholas knew. For every bad thing Nicholas had to say about women, Simp had come up with a story of something good.

  Nicholas saw his son headed for heartbreak and wanted to step in to stop the disaster before it occurred. Colin was too young to be thinking about marriage, and young ladies like the earl’s daughter thought of nothing else. He cursed the circumstances that kept them in England. The easiest way to resolve the problem was to go home to America. But that simply wasn’t possible.

  He had another choice besides interference. He could let his son deal with the problem on his own. Most likely, the earl would guard his daughter so closely that Colin would be denied her company. Nicholas could hope that absence would not make the heart grow fonder, that if Colin didn’t see Lady Roanna Warenne he would forget about her.

  He searched his son’s features and scowled at what he found. He knew that look. It had rested upon his own face once upon a time. The boy was besotted. Colin would find a way to see the earl’s daughter. With or without the earl’s permission.

  His son was looking at him with trust and with hope. Colin believed he could do anything. Nicholas wasn’t so sure he would be able to resolve this matter to Colin’s satisfaction. As he was in a position to know, Englishmen could be blindly stubborn when it came to certain social issues. Legitimacy was definitely one of them.

  His son was the one thing he loved in all the world. For Colin’s sake, he was willing to try. Nicholas remembered Charles Warenne, who was now the Earl of Rotherham. He and Tony and Stephen had played together with Charles as boys. He remembered the earl as a daredevil, as a boy as wild as Nicholas himself. It seemed strange to consider his childhood friend in the role of protective father. Perhaps Charles would be willing to ease his restrictions for old time’s sake.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Nicholas said. “The earl may not change his mind even after I speak to him.”

  Colin grinned. “I know you, Pa. When you talk to people, they usually come around. Do it soon, will you, Pa? I need to see Lady Roanna again.”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow,” Nicholas promised.

  “Good night, Pa.”

  “Good night, son.”

  They didn’t touch each other as they parted, not physically, anyway. But Colin met his father’s glance and communicated all the wealth of love and respect he felt. And Nicholas let Colin see his deep affection in return.

  A moment later, the door closed quietly behind Colin.

  Nicholas stripped—he slept naked when he was at home—and slipped into bed. He had forgotten how soft a bed could be. The mattress threatened to swallow him as he slid into its downy softness.

  Nicholas blamed his inability to sleep
on the too-soft bed, but it was his thoughts that kept him awake. They didn’t concern Colin’s problem, nor the tribulations of Severn Manor or its tenants. There was only one star in his sky, and its name was Daisy Windermere.

  Nicholas wondered why he had agreed to marry her when he had vowed years ago—when the one and only proposal he had ever made to a woman had been thrown laughingly back in his face—never to wed. Perhaps it was because this wasn’t a real marriage. But she was going to come to his bed. That was real enough. If he was honest with himself, there was an easy explanation for his aberrant behavior: he wanted her. And because she was a lady, the only way to have her was to marry her.

  Nicholas had taken his share of whores to bed, but he had never gotten involved with a lady. He had seen a few he desired but had never been willing to make the commitment a lady demanded in trade for her virtue. Besides, a lady wanted the desire he felt for the female of the species sugarcoated with words of love and caring. The two women he had loved in his life—his mother and the mother of his son—had each betrayed him. He wasn’t going to give another woman that chance.

  He had agreed to the marriage with Daisy Windermere because it offered him what he wanted—her body—without requiring that he lie to her about loving her, and without the need for him to surrender anything of himself to a female who was bound to prove untrustworthy in the end.

  He would take what he wanted from her and give her what she asked in return. He would work with her to make of Severn Manor the successful enterprise it could be.

  Then he would sell it and return to America. It would not matter that he left a wife in England. She would be happy in her dower house. He would go back to his ranch in Texas and forget about her.

  They would both be getting exactly what they wanted.

  5

  Nicholas awoke in a cold sweat. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart. The dream had come back to haunt him, even here in England. There was no escaping it. He had thought his father’s—Lord Philip’s—death might ease his desperate need to know the truth. Obviously the dream wasn’t going to release him until he sought out answers for the questions that had plagued him over the past twenty-two years. Was he his father’s son? And if not, who was his father?