Never Turn Away (Kellington Book Six)

by Driscoll, Maureen

  “That was the original provision. But a codicil has been found that changed the date to the thirty-first of December.”

  “Why would your father do that?”

  “I do not think he did. I believe my cousin the earl forged the codicil, though I have no proof.”

  “Why would your cousin do that?”

  “There is a mining company that wishes to buy the estate. It is not entailed, so the earl would be free to sell if he had control of it. The company is not willing to wait beyond the new year. They will simply go elsewhere. I believe my cousin changed the date so he has a chance to inherit the estate, then sell it.”

  “But that could occur only if you do not marry by the end of the year.”

  “If the codicil is valid, he will inherit.” At Joseph’s raised brow of disbelief, she continued. “Inspector, it is not as though I have spent the past seven years since my come-out avoiding matrimony. I have been open to the idea of marriage. I very much want children of my own. But I have been unable to find a husband. Do you really think I can find a suitable husband in the next few weeks?”

  He knew she could find hundreds of men to marry her. But good men of the ton did seem to be in short supply.

  She continued. “It is not just my well-being that is at stake here. Selling to the mine would displace all of my tenants. The duke and I are the major landholders in the area. If we refuse to sell, the mining concern has said it will abandon its efforts in the county. But if my cousin sells, I believe many of the smaller estates will follow suit. The entire village could be lost. This issue is larger than one woman. Indeed, I am assured an income that keeps a roof over my head and food on my table. Even if the roof is much smaller than the one I am used to and the cooking my own. But these people. Just where will they go?”

  Bollocks. Did the beautiful earl’s daughter have to be so concerned about the villagers? It was going to be difficult to keep a professional distance when she was quite so appealing. “Has your solicitor examined the codicil?”

  “He did. Mr. Mayhew was my father’s solicitor for many years. He believes the signature looks genuine, but he admits that he’d never seen the codicil until it was rather conveniently found in my cousin’s attic, which, of course, used to be my father’s home.”

  “But would it not be odd for your father to execute such an important document without Mr. Mayhew’s help?”

  “Very much so. But the codicil was dated a few weeks before my father’s death, a time when Mr. Mayhew was in Scotland on a family matter. It would have made sense for Papa to use another solicitor.”

  “But would it have made sense for your father to move up the date by only six months? I can see, perhaps, his changing his mind and wanting you to be married by the age of one and twenty. But why move the date only six months?”

  “My thoughts, exactly. That is why I believe my cousin is behind this.”

  “I know an expert on fraud in London who could study the document to see if it is a forgery. I cannot promise success, but I believe it is worth a try.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I shall set off for London straightaway.”

  “Actually, there is something else I would ask your help with, though it is hard for me to seek assistance.”

  “But sometimes a person must.”

  “Do you, Inspector?” She looked at him shrewdly, her green eyes studying him. “Do you ask for help? Or do you prefer to rely on yourself?”

  The question was unexpected and personal. Joseph had learned early on that he could depend on very few people. And life as a Bow Street Inspector had hardly given him more faith in the inherent trustworthiness of people. It was only in the past few months through his friendship with the Kellingtons and Riverton that he was learning to trust others. Though Lady Evelyn’s life experience could not have been more different than his, it appeared she shared his independent nature.

  He smiled slightly. “Thankfully, we are not speaking of me.” Her eyes laughed at his obvious evasion. “How else may I be of assistance?”

  “Knowing that I was to marry by June, I have considered a few potential husbands, though country life does not offer a great deal of variety in potential spouses.”

  “Especially of your station.”

  Once again, her direct gaze settled upon him. “But that is the advantage of having little use for life in London. I do not feel compelled to marry someone of my ‘station,’ as you put it. My father raised me to respect all others, regardless of title or position in life. If I found myself in love, I would care little for status.”

  “An admirable sentiment but, from what I know of the ton, you would be cut most cruelly if you married beneath you.”

  “That might be a problem if I cared about what those in London thought of me. I do not.”

  “But what of your children? Would you deprive them of a life in the peerage and the incumbent advantages?”

  “If I am blessed with children, I would ensure they had everything they needed. And they would be loved. It would be a greater disservice to raise them with a peer I did not love, rather than someone of a lesser station with whom I was happy.”

  Stapleton had no answer to that. He had thought little could surprise him. But this woman was doing an admirable job of it. “Do you have any candidates in mind?”

  “Three local men have emerged as suitors.”

  “Do any of them appeal to you?”

  “I am still in the process of thinking of them as potential husbands. I was hoping you could meet them and give me your opinion as to their character. I would imagine your profession has made you a rather good judge of it. And then I would like to accompany you to London. If I do have to marry before year’s end, perhaps I could better my matrimonial chances at a ton ball. Though I dread the very prospect.”

  Stapleton thought of the men she would meet there. The rakes. The ones who lost fortunes at the gaming tables. Those who spent their time in opium dens and brothels. He would wish them all to the devil before they could come within a mile of Lady Evelyn. Of course, he had to admit that Arthur and Hal Kellington had fit that very description until they’d met their respective wives and changed their ways. It was possible there were other men who could also reform.

  But not bloody likely.

  The risk was great and this trusting woman needed help. “Perhaps Lady Riverton could be of assistance.”

  “Elizabeth? I do not have much of an acquaintance with her, though I always enjoyed seeing her when she and her brothers visited Jasmine Manor. How could she help?”

  “She is an inveterate matchmaker. If you do have to marry quickly, she might know of someone suitable.” And he could trust her to find someone worthy of Lady Evelyn. If such a man existed.

  “I feel better already,” said Lady Evelyn with a dazzling smile.

  Joseph became slightly light-headed at the sight of it. He cleared his throat. “I shall send a dispatch to my expert in London, if you would also write a note to Mr. Mayhew, informing him of our plans. That will give them more time to examine the codicil before we arrive in London.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It is my pleasure. When shall I meet your suitors?’

  “Mr. Kensington, the son of the local squire, is to call on me at one of the clock to go on a ride. I would appreciate it if you would accompany us.”

  “And I am sure he would like no such thing. I accept.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After sending out a dispatch to his expert – as well as missives to Lynwood, Riverton and the Kellingtons – Joseph arrived back at Lady Evelyn’s home shortly before one of the clock. The squire’s rather portly son had just arrived and was in the process of dismounting. “Hold him still!” he said crossly to the stable lad holding his horse’s reins.

  From Stapleton’s view atop Rocinante, the lad wasn’t at fault. It was the awkward dismount that was making the horse sidle. By contrast, Rocinante held still as Joseph dismounted. He patted the hors
e, then thanked the lad who came to take his reins.

  “Who are you?” asked the squire’s son, whose clothes looked expensive, but uncomfortably tight.

  “Joseph Stapleton,” he said with a slight nod. He offered no further explanation, leaving that to Lady Evelyn.

  The younger man looked Joseph up and down, having to tilt his head back to get a good look at Joseph’s hat, since he was about six or seven inches shorter. “I haven’t seen you around Oxfordshire.”

  “I only just arrived.”

  It was obvious the young man was trying to guess if Stapleton was gentleman or servant, and was frustrated by not being able to do so. “And you are here because?”

  “Because I was invited.”

  That answer did not please the squire’s son at all. Yet, he seemed stymied in what he should say next. Evidently, he was someone who liked to know where he stood.

  And Joseph’s uncharitable thought was that the young man likely always stood about a head shorter than everyone else.

  Fortunately, Lady Evelyn chose that moment to join them. “Ah, Mr. Stapleton, thank you for coming. Have you met Mr. Kensington?”

  “We were just becoming acquainted.” He wondered why she had not referred to him as Inspector, nor explained his presence. Could it be that she was ashamed of associating with someone who wasn’t a gentleman, despite her pretty words earlier? The notion was more unsettling than it should be.

  “Stapleton, is it?” asked Kensington. “Are you related to the Portsmouth Stapletons? They supply our livestock.”

  “No, I am not.”

  That abbreviated answer seemed to frustrate Kensington even more. Joseph knew he should more fully introduce himself, but rather enjoyed the young man’s discomfiture.

  “Mr. Stapleton is a friend of the Duke of Lynwood’s,” said Evelyn. She was wearing a sapphire blue winter riding habit that hugged her curves. “I asked him to join us this afternoon. He is only just arrived from London and I thought he might like to see a bit of the county. Mr. Stapleton, this is Gerard Kensington, if he has not already made himself known to you.”

  It looked like Evelyn knew very well that Kensington had not done any such thing. Another groom brought out Evelyn’s horse. Kensington moved to boost her into the saddle, but the first lad blocked the way with a horse.

  “Beg pardon, milord,” said the groom, who didn’t look all that apologetic, especially as it gave Joseph the opportunity to assist Lady Evelyn.

  Kensington looked like he wanted to yell at the lad, but ground his teeth as he hoisted himself awkwardly into his saddle.

  “Is that a hunting rifle?” asked Evelyn with some surprise.

  “Yes. I thought you might like to see me shoot.”

  “I do not believe there is cause for a shoot. I know my larder is well stocked and I can only imagine your mama’s is, as well.”

  “But I’ll be shooting for sport,” said Kensington, as if this notion made all the sense in the world on an outing with a lovely woman in need of a husband.

  “Is it not dangerous to go shooting in the woods at this time of day?” asked Stapleton. “There might be people walking through them.”

  “I am sure they will clear out at the sound of the first shot. At any rate, it won’t be dangerous for us,” said Kensington. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of guns, Stapleton.”

  Joseph restrained himself from knocking the git senseless. “I have no fear of firearms, only of those who wield them unwisely.”

  “Then you have nothing to fear here,” said Kensington smugly. “Shall we, Evelyn?” With that, he kicked his mount and cantered awkwardly toward a field.

  Evelyn turned to Joseph. “Have I expressed my thanks for your accompanying us?”

  “Not enough, my lady.” He smiled, then enjoyed the sound of her laugh as she set her horse into a canter.

  An hour later, Joseph was feeling considerably less at peace with the world. Though Rocinante made his way through the deep snow drifts as if he’d been born to it, Joseph was cold – it seemed colder in the country than in London – saddle sore and bored beyond endurance with Kensington’s prattle. He didn’t know how Evelyn could seriously consider the pup as a possible husband.

  The pup was also a dreadful shot, in part because he talked so much he frightened off his prey. Joseph preferred it that way. While he understood the need to hunt for food, he’d seen so much killing – and done a fair amount of it himself – that he had no taste to see it done for sport. And from the look on Evelyn’s face every time Kensington took a shot, it appeared she agreed.

  “There!” said Kensington, dismounting, as he pointed to a deer in the nearby woods. “She’s a beauty.”

  “Then why must you shoot her?” asked Evelyn as she looked at the doe, who had her head turned away.

  “Because it is what men do, my dear. At least it is what real men do.” Here, he glanced disparagingly at Joseph. “Sure you don’t want to have a go at this one, Stapleton? I can give you pointers, if you like.”

  “Thank you, but no,” said Joseph, using up the last of his restraint. “I have never wanted to kill for sport. And even if we were killing for food, I would not shoot a doe.”

  “How positively sentimental of you,” said Kensington as he made a great show of aiming his rifle at the doe, who was still looking away.

  Just as he was about to shoot, Evelyn sneezed loudly. It startled the doe, who looked around, then darted out of harm’s way. A moment later, three of her fawns joined her, only to be quickly ushered away by their mother.

  “I’ll be able to get one of them,” said Kensington. Joseph, who’d quickly dismounted, took the rifle out of his hands. “Ho! Not very sporting of you,” said the squire’s son in response.

  “My thoughts exactly. It is obvious you would like to impress Lady Evelyn with your shooting skills. To facilitate you in your goal, I suggest a shooting match against a target – an inanimate target. That would impress you just as much as killing an animal would it not, Lady Evelyn?”

  “Much more so. A target would be smaller and placed further away. It would take an excellent marksman to make such a shot.”

  “I agree,” said Joseph. “Might I trouble you for a ribbon to mark the target?”

  “Of course.” She pulled a blue ribbon from her coiffure. A long red curl tumbled down after it.

  Joseph’s breath hitched just a bit as he reached up and took the ribbon. Both he and she wore gloves and his fingers were numb with cold. But the brief touch sent fire through his hand. From the way her eyes widened, it appeared she’d felt it, too.

  He turned, then awkwardly slogged through the snow toward the woods, calling out as he did so. “Kensington, do be so good as to keep your rifle pointed at the ground. You wouldn’t want to shoot me.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t I?” asked Kensington, who then laughed at his jest.

  “No,” said Joseph without bothering to turn around. “Because I would then be forced to kill you.” He continued pacing until he was almost out of sight. Then he climbed a tree and tied Evelyn’s ribbon around a branch.

  “I don’t know what he’s trying to prove by placing the target so far away,” Kensington said to Evelyn. “It’s not as if I would ever have to make such a shot hunting. Many times you can catch the animals completely unaware and only yards away. I do not think this is necessary in the least.”

  “Yet, I am sure it will be entertaining,” said Evelyn as Joseph grimly trudged back through the snow.

  “All right Kensington,” he said. “We’ll see which of us comes closer to the ribbon.”

  “While I always welcome a challenge, should we not wait until you have a rifle?”

  “I will not need one.”

  Kensington laughed. “That shot would be impossible with a pistol. Perhaps we should close the gap a bit.”

  “I think not.”

  Kensington took his time getting into position, slowly moving forward a half step at a time.

  “Mr. Ke
nsington,” said Evelyn, barely suppressing a laugh. “I believe the line is back here.”

  “Of course,” he said stepping back so he was only a foot or so in front of it.

  “All the way back here,” she said sweetly.

  Kensington reluctantly moved back to the line, raised his rifle and shot. His aim was wide. The ball hit a branch to the right of the tree and a good three feet above the target. But once the smoke cleared, he appeared surprised to have done so well. “That’s not bad, if I do say so myself.”

  “And you do,” muttered Joseph as he took his place at the line. He aimed his pistol for a quick moment, then shot, obliterating both the ribbon and Kensington’s ego. “I believe I owe you a ribbon, my lady.”

  “I shall be certain to demand recompense,” she replied.

  “Where the devil did you learn to shoot like that?” asked Kensington, affronted by Stapleton’s accuracy.

  “Bow Street, among other places. I am an inspector.”

  Kensington’s surprise was obvious. “And why are you here?”

  “I have come to Oxfordshire on holiday.” He didn’t want Lady Evelyn’s suitors to know he was investigating them, no matter how informally. Yet, he also didn’t think it hurt to make his profession known to this jackanapes who had no business handling a firearm. “The Duke of Lynwood was kind enough to allow me to stay at his estate.”

  “You know Lynwood? That’s most queer. He isn’t in trouble is he?” From the tone of his query, Kensington rather hoped that he was.

  “No. Frankly, I cannot imagine a man less likely to go afoul of the law.”

  “Yet, you claim to be friends. With him a duke and you a policeman,” said Kensington in wonderment, as if Stapleton had also claimed the ability to fly.

  “Inspector Stapleton does not claim to be friends with the duke. He is friends with him,” said Evelyn icily. “Now if you gentlemen would please mount, I would like to return to the house. The day is a bit too chilly for me.”

  Kensington looked like he wanted to object, but thought better of it as he walked back to his horse, who seemed none too anxious for his master to mount. Rocinante met Joseph halfway, patiently waiting for him to climb on his back.