Lord Cavendish Returns

by King, Rebecca

  “This is Mrs Sanders, my housekeeper.”

  “Has anything changed around this place?”

  “No, I am afraid not. I am glad that you are here, Harper, because there is something you need to know,” Angus sighed when they had been furnished with tea and the most sumptuous fruit cake Harper had ever tasted.

  “Go on.”

  “Joseph wrote to you a year or so back, but we never got word that you received our message.”

  Harper shook his head. “I move around a lot because of the kind of work I do.” He waited long enough for Mrs Sanders to head outside to peg the washing out. Once the woman was out of ear-shot, he leaned forward and gave Angus a brief outline of the dangerous work he undertook for the War Office and the Star Elite.

  “That explains it then, but I have to tell you that we were starting to wonder just what we would have to do to get you to at least talk to us.”

  “I am sorry. You know that when I left here I joined the army and was sent abroad. When I did come back to English shores, I was given the choice that I could either to be sent back to the battlefields or could work with the War Office.” His lips twisted wryly. “I elected for the War Office. Unfortunately, my work requires me to adopt disguises and work undercover. I have to keep moving around and be very careful about what I do. Just a simple letter home could mean fatal consequences for you and Robert and Joseph. I couldn’t risk it.”

  Angus nodded his understanding. “The thing is, Harper, when father passed away he revealed a few things to us that have a significant impact on all of us.”

  Harper froze and lifted his steady gaze to his brother. He knew now that if it was proven that his mother was Lady Cavendish, or whatever the hell her name was, he was not related to the man seated opposite, and that saddened him greatly. “Go on.”

  “Father said that this house wasn’t his.”

  “Not his?” Harper knew what was coming. The fruit cake he had consumed suddenly felt like a piece of led in his stomach and he carefully placed the remains back on the plate at his elbow.

  “He was an ex-soldier, as you know, and struggled to make a living because of his injuries. He couldn’t afford to purchase this place. Apparently, someone else owns the house. Father and mother just lived here.”

  “Who owns it then?”

  “Well, now? You do.”

  “What?”

  “I said that you do.” Angus rubbed a weary hand down his face and studied the changes the years away had brought upon Harper. The enthusiastic adolescent he had grown up with had been replaced with a weary soldier who had become a rather forbidding man. In his youth, Harper had been a chatterbox; in his maturity, he had clearly learnt to choose his words wisely.

  “Who owned it when we lived here then?”

  “It was somebody down in London. Some sort of trust of some kind. Father made it clear that the house had been placed in trust for you, and was yours as soon as you came of age. It was supposed to have become yours when you were five and twenty, but you went into the army and nobody knew how to find you.”

  Harper always regretted not being at home when his father passed away, and looked sadly at his brother.

  Angus seemed to read his brother’s thoughts and smiled in commiseration. “He understood, you know. He was worried sick, but damned proud of what you were doing.”

  “So the family lived here, rent free, because I owned the house and would receive it when I was old enough.”

  Angus nodded.

  “Do you have the name of the trust, or the solicitor, who gave you the information?” Harper knew what the paper Angus fetched out of a box on the mantle would say. The small card that was handed to him held the words; Harry Johnson, Solicitors of Law, London, emblazoned across it. Harper dropped it onto the table as though it had just burned his fingers and studied it with a deep sense of foreboding.

  “The fact is, Harper, I have only stayed at the house to look after it. We didn’t know how to get hold of you or if you would ever be back. When father passed, we all received a sizeable portion of his wealth. Because he hadn’t had to pay any rent or purchase a house, he had amassed a small fortune from his pension, and the money he received after his parent’s deaths. This money was divided between all of us when he passed. Robert used his to purchase the blacksmith business. Joseph purchased his farm, and I set up my practice here. Unfortunately, most of my patients live in Moldton, and they have to travel to come and see me. During the winter, some of them cannot make it and I have to go to them. It is extremely difficult to get to everybody I need to see and it is becoming more and more evident that I need to live in Moldton. I just didn’t want to see this place fall into wrack and ruin. Joseph has to be at his farm because of the livestock, and Robert’s customers call upon him at all hours of the day and night. My practice could be set up anywhere, so I elected to stay here and run my practice from here until we could find you and encourage you to come home long enough to decide what to do with the place.”

  Harper rubbed a weary hand down his face. While he was extremely pleased that the house was going to remain his, he felt a sickening sense of dread settle over him that he was not going to like the outcome of his search through the parish records for his birth details.

  “Something bothers you,” Angus declared gently. “What is it?”

  “I think I know why the house has been left in trust to me,” Harper sighed. There was something calm and approachable about Angus. His eldest brother had always been the most thoughtful of the four boys and Harper had always confided in Angus more than Joseph and Robert. As a result, he had no hesitation taking him into his confidence now.

  In that moment, Robert appeared in the doorway. When Robert had been furnished with tea and cake, and Mrs Sanders dispatched to collect some provisions from the store, Harper closed the kitchen door and took a seat at the table.

  “Have you ever heard of the Cavendish brothers?”

  “Aren’t they some sort of aristocracy in Leicestershire somewhere? They own huge estates; I think one has a sheep farm around Cumbria way.”

  “That’s right. I don’t know too much about them myself either, but I have recently had a visit from them.”

  That was putting it mildly, he thought wryly, but didn’t see any point in raising their ire by giving them details of his kidnap.

  “They claim that my mother is their mother, and wasn’t Agnes.”

  Robert and Angus looked at each other and then turned back to Harper.

  “That’s why the house was put into trust for you,” Angus declared flatly.

  Robert held a hand up. “Wait a minute, are you saying that you are related to the Cavendish brothers?”

  “I would be their half-brother if I had the proof, yes.” Harper sighed deeply and wished the tea was brandy. “I need to check the parish records to see if my birth was registered there. I hope to God that Agnes is listed as my birth mother.”

  “What will you do if there is no record of your birth here?” Robert asked with a frown.

  “If not, then I need to go to London and pay a visit to the solicitor and find out what happened.” He flipped the small card over with his forefinger and watched the elaborate script disappear from view. He hated even to even see the name, much less consider the fact that the man might be his father.

  “You need to go and see Arrabella,” Robert announced with an emphatic nod of his head. “Have you seen Joseph yet?”

  “No, I was headed that way next.”

  “Wait a minute,” Angus interrupted loudly. “What do you plan to do with the house? I mean, it is yours after all. Now that you are here, I need to move to my practice in Moldton.”

  “Do you have a practice there already?”

  “I do, but I haven’t been living there. I have had to live here so that I can look after this place. Now that you are here, I am off to Moldton. The house is yours.” One long finger suddenly appeared under Harper nose and made his brows lift in surprise. “However
, I would warn you that if you intend to sell, Robert or I want first refusal on it.”

  “I am not going to sell it,” Harper replied quietly. He adored the house. It was the only place he had ever really felt he could call home and, he was rather pleased to admit, it still felt like home. “It’s mine and I am going to keep it.”

  “Thank God for that,” Robert growled with relief.

  “Can we take it that you are looking to return here to live?”

  “I am not sure. I have my work in the War Office, as you know. I just don’t know if it is feasible to do the work I normally do while living here.”

  “I take it that you won’t be staying with me now?” Robert asked wryly. He didn’t mind in the least, and fervently hoped that if Harper was able to make himself comfortable in the old family home. At least Angus had managed to speak to Harper sooner rather than later, and was on hand to push Harper to take over the property now that it was his.

  “Sorry I didn’t tell you about this place earlier,” Robert sighed. “I just didn’t know what to say. It was such a darned surprise to see you standing in my workshop that I just couldn’t think of anything other than making you feel at home.”

  “It’s alright Robert. I understand.” He did. God knows, they had all contacted him over the last few years, on numerous occasions, to ask him to return, even for a brief stay. Now that he was here, there was little chance that he was just going to ride away in the next couple of days and vanish for several more years.

  “I am off to sort out my house at Moldton,” Angus declared firmly and dropped a bunch of keys on the kitchen table in front of Harper.

  “What do you need in the way of furniture?”

  “It’s all sorted out. The practice in Moldton is all ready to go. Unless you need me here, I will set about moving the rest of my things over there when I head over to my afternoon consultations.”

  “I feel as though I am throwing you out,” Harper grumped and studied the ironwork on the table.

  “Rubbish. I am overjoyed you are back and will pop by for a chat once you are settled. I am just glad to be able to get my own life sorted out now,” Angus argued.

  Harper lifted his brows and watched Angus hurry through the house. The steady thumps of Angus’ feet on the stairs left Robert and Harper still seated at the table in quiet contemplation.

  “What do you plan to do now?” Robert really hoped that Harper was going to stay now, but seriously doubted that they were going to be that lucky. He seemed an entirely different man to the one who had left; a stranger almost, and Robert wasn’t quite sure what to make of the changes.

  “I will stay here for a while and see if I can find the paperwork that I need. If Agnes is not my mother, then I need to find out who the hell is and decide what I am going to do about it.” It didn’t feel right to mention the estate and entailment that awaited him. He was by far the very last person who wanted or needed them, and had no intention whatsoever of ever using them so, right now, they were of little consequence.

  “There is a fortune awaiting you in the bank in Skipton. Go by there when you have a moment, there are some things you need to sign.”

  Harper nodded. He couldn’t say much because he was not sure what he should be feeling. “Right now, I think that the first port of call has to be the vicarage. I really need to get that information so I can decide what to do.” He looked Robert straight in the eye. “About a lot of things.”

  “Well, if you need me for anything you know where I am,” Robert announced as he stood up and pushed his chair under the table.

  “Does Joseph know?”

  “About the house? Yes, he was there when father told us. About you being back? Not yet.”

  “I will go and see him next.”

  Robert held his hands up and shook his head. “He now owns old man Giles’ farm up on the far side of Waddle.”

  “I remember it,” Harper sighed.

  Robert nodded and waited until Angus was on his way to Moldton before he took his leave and hurried back to his own business. He had no idea what the future held in store for any of them. If he was honest, he was far more shaken than he wanted to acknowledge upon hearing the news that Harper may not be his brother after all, and didn’t quite know what to say to the man.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Arrabella opened the gate carefully and studied the broad shoulders of the man who was trying to enter the church. She was fairly certain that he was not from around these parts because she most definitely would have remembered him. Even from behind, he had a certain presence about him; an untamed wildness that made her want to keep her distance.

  Don’t be a goose, she mentally chided herself. He is trying to go into the church, not break out of prison, get a hold of yourself.

  “Can I help you?” She winced at the timidity of her voice and straightened her spine before he turned to face her.

  Harper turned toward the soft voice and felt something in his chest lurch alarmingly at the sight of her. She was stunning; simply stunning. By far the prettiest woman he had ever seen in his life. Her beautiful blue eyes studied him thoughtfully and, had it not been for the basket of flowers she held tightly in her fingers, he would have thought she was an angel sent from heaven. From the distance of the narrow church path, it was difficult to see how old she was but he placed her roughly around four and twenty. Immediately, he set to wonder if she was married but then discounted his curiosity as ridiculous. Of course she was married; women like the vision before him were usually snapped up as soon as they came of age. He visibly jerked when he realised he was staring at her.

  “I am looking for Arrabella,” he declared softly, and fervently hoped it was her. His wish was granted when she nodded.

  “I am Arrabella. How can I help you?” Arrabella felt somewhat at a loss to know what to think as she watched him walk toward her. She was strangely disconcerted to have to tip her head backward to look up at him; he was so tall, and so powerful that instinctively wanted to take a step away from him. Although he had been cordial and polite when he had spoken to her, she was fairly confident that her initial impression had been correct; he was dangerous. There was a stern air of command about him that made her feel almost pinned to the spot by those wonderful green eyes of his, and vaguely threatened by the sheer magnetism of him.

  Still, she was no timid country miss and refused to be cowed by a handsome stranger. If only she could ignore the faint flutter of awareness that jumbled her thoughts, she would hopefully get through the next few minutes without looking like a tongue-tied idiot.

  Harper coughed to clear the obstruction in his throat and tried to remember why the hell he was standing outside a church. He usually only ever went near one to attend a funeral.

  “Sorry,” he muttered and gave himself a mental shake as he stopped in front of her. “Daydreaming.”

  Yes, about her, now get control of yourself you dunderhead or she will think you are a total idiot, Harper silently chided himself.

  “I understand from Robert and Angus Lawton that you are the person who could help me in my quest,” Harper murmured quietly. For some reason, he felt as though he had to be gentle around this woman so that he didn’t scare her off. It was suddenly very important that he not do anything to cause her alarm and make her run away, and he was fairly certain that it had nothing to do with his need for her help in locating the parish records he needed.

  “Quest?” Arrabella wondered what kind of quest the man before her could be on that needed her input, but couldn’t find the words to put together to ask him. Was she the one who had sighed? Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she fervently hoped that he couldn’t read what was going through her mind.

  “Pardon?” Lord, she had the thickest lashes he had ever seen on anyone.

  “Pardon?” Arrabella blinked at him and tried to focus her thoughts. He must think she was vacant. She gave herself a mental shake, broke her gaze away from his and blinked carefully down at the basket in her han
d. Why was she carrying them? Oh, that was it; she was going to change the flowers at the altar. She realised then the man was still waiting for her to answer him. As much as she tried to avoid it, she felt her gaze being drawn back to his anyway, and soon found herself ensnared by that hypnotic green gaze that seemed to rob her of all thought.

  As the minutes ticked by, neither of them seemed willing, or able, to break the silence that had settled over them. It was only when Mr Cower ambled past and called a cheery greeting that Arrabella was drawn out of her daze. Determined to keep her mind off his stunning good looks, she took a deep breath while she tried to remember where they were.

  “You said that you were on a quest and needed my help,” Arrabella reported carefully and hoped against hope that she hadn’t got it all wrong.

  “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Something inside Harper seemed to click and he suddenly realised that he was making a complete arse of himself. “Sorry, I was miles away.” He held out his hand and offered her his most winning smile. “My name is Harper Lawton.”

  Arrabella stared at the huge hand he held out to her. She didn’t want to touch it but it would be horribly impolite of her if she didn’t. When her palm met the warmth of his she knew she should have ignored his pro-offered gesture of greeting. As soon as their palms touched a sudden jolt of awareness flew through her that was so strong that it made her audibly gasp. Her eyes flew to his and she read the understanding there. He had felt it too, she was sure of it. Her suspicions were proven correct when the smile slowly left his face and he studied her with a rather bemused expression of - something; she couldn’t quite make out what it was, but it was darned unnerving.

  “Lawton?” She gasped, and tried to recall where she had heard that name before. “You are Doctor Lawton’s brother?”

  “Yes, I am, and Robert Lawton, the blacksmith, and Joseph Lawton, the farmer.”