Secret Heiress

by Shelley, Lillian;

  “If my father had not left those provisions in his will denying me access to my fortune for another five years, I would not be facing ruin now!” interrupted Adrian. He stood up. “If I had known you were going to give me a lecture, I wouldn’t have come.” He turned and strode out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

  “Indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Stokes. “Indeed! That the Bradfords—such an old and distinguished family—should come to this.” He shook his head. “I never thought I would see this day.”

  By the tune he had reached the street, Adrian’s anger had dissipated. His temper was erratic, but he found anger difficult to sustain and he never held a grudge. He tried to think of how he could turn the meeting with Miss Chessington to good account. The first thing was to find out more about her. Single young women of his acquaintance did not frequent the business offices of the City. Only one in charge of her own affairs would make such a visit. Only one secure in her position would risk the disapprobation of Society. What but a great fortune could give her this security? Neither a great name nor great beauty explained it. No, he must find out more about her, and the place to start was Stokes’s office.

  As Adrian thought, he slowly mounted the stairs to Stokes’s office again. He opened the door slightly and looked inside. Stokes’s door was closed and he appeared to be talking with that fuss-budget assistant of his. Only the clerk was in the outer office. Before going inside, Adrian removed his gloves and put them inside his jacket. He then went inside. The clerk looked up as he entered.

  “Crippen, I seem to have misplaced my gloves. Have you seen them?”

  “No, sir, I can’t say as I have,” replied the clerk.

  “How very annoying,” said Adrian. “I can scarcely go to Lady Effington’s without my gloves.”

  “No, sir,” said the clerk.

  “By the by,” said Adrian, approaching the clerk, “a fine-looking woman, Miss Chessington. I would really like to know more about her.”

  “I can’t tell you anything about her, sir,” said Crippen. “It would be worth my job.” He looked expectant.

  Adrian held out a sovereign and slipped it into the clerk’s palm. “Can you tell me about her now?”

  Crippen looked at the gold coin in his hand and carefully shifted it to his pocket. “Miss Chessington,” he said woodenly, “is an heiress. From Lancashire, she is. Worth a ransom, but she don’t want anyone to know that she’s so plump in the pocket.”

  “Whyever not?” exclaimed Adrian. “If I had a fortune, I’d certainly let everyone know!”

  Crippen held out his hand. Adrian looked at it and slipped another coin into it

  “I overheard Old Stokesy telling Potts that she wants to be liked for herself and not for her money,” continued Crippen as he transferred the new coin to his pocket. “Myself, I can’t say I see it.”

  Adrian was much in sympathy with this sentiment. “Know where she lives, Crippen?” he asked.

  Crippen was silent as he looked at Adrian. Adrian, exasperated, pulled out a third coin and handed it to Crippen.

  “No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t,” he said as he slipped the coin into his bulging pocket.

  Adrian looked at him in amazement. “Why, you thief!” he exclaimed. He stormed out of the office, slamming the door a second time. The noise brought Mr. Stokes and his assistant to the door.

  “What’s going on here, Crippen?” asked Stokes sternly.

  “Nuthin’, sir.”

  “Who was at the door then?”

  “Just Mr. Bradford looking for his gloves, sir. He’s right excitable. When I didn’t have them, he slammed the door.”

  “All right then, Crippen, back to work. There’s much to be done.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Crippen. As Stokes and Potts went back into the office, Crippen patted his pocket complacently.

  Adrian’s anger lasted a little longer this time, but he had to smile wryly at the way he’d been outmaneuvered. His mind shifted quickly to the more pressing problem of meeting Miss Chessington. Damn it, he didn’t even know her first name. If she were an heiress—and if that dratted clerk were telling the truth!—she should be seen riding in the Park or at some of the ton parties. It was still before the Season, but some early-comers to town had already begun the rounds of parties and routs. He’d have to start going again to those boring affairs, toadeating dowagers and flattering matrons. And that required a wardrobe, for it was fatal to look as if one were worried about money. His tailor was becoming more insistent about being paid. If he didn’t meet an heiress soon and bring her to the altar, he’d have to leave the country. He was desperate.

  Chapter 8

  Caroline did not spend all of her time in London visiting historical sights or discussing business. Giles Kendal had called several times in Woburn Square and Caroline increasingly looked forward to his visits. He had a wry sense of humor and his descriptions of Society in Vienna were amusing. He often brought a book he thought she would enjoy or marked a passage in the paper which he thought would be of interest. He seemed to appreciate her comments as well, as though she had something of worth to contribute. Caroline, accustomed to the insincere compliments of fortune hunters, was pleased to be treated as an intelligent, thinking woman.

  She had discovered, too, the many pleasures London had to offer and was surprised to find herself enjoying them so much. While she had no entrée to Almack’s and had no desire to be seen at that bastion of matchmaking mamas, Giles had squired her to some of the other diversions available. They had viewed a balloon ascension, and Giles had taken them to the theater, the ballet, and the opera. They had seen Kean as Hamlet and Madame Pasta in Le Nozze di Figaro at the King’s Theatre, which was, according to her guidebook, one of London’s most fashionable centers of entertainment. She found Giles Kendal stimulating and looked forward to his visits; she was, therefore, dismayed when those visits suddenly became less frequent. She had finally begun to feel that special sense of companionship, of pleasure in someone’s company, that she had been certain would always elude her. She had no explanation for his seeming loss of interest, but was too proud to ask him for one. She merely shrugged her shoulders and continued as she always had, making her own enjoyment and living her own life.

  Two weeks after her visit to Mr. Stokes, Caroline and Aurelia were scheduled to attend a performance of the opera. As Caroline descended the stairs, Aurelia regarded her approvingly.

  “My love, you look charmingly,” she said, eyeing Caroline’s dress of cerise-striped silk gauze. “And that hairdo! I was not at all certain about it when you described it, but it looks most becoming.” The Psyche knot interlaced with cerise ribbons indeed set off Caroline’s face becomingly.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” said Caroline. “And may I say that you are also in high looks tonight?”

  “Well, I do think this gown flatters me,” said Aurelia, smoothing it down. “Mauve was always a good color for me. All ladies, you know, cannot wear mauve. And do you like the turban? It matches so perfectly, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, yes, the match is indeed excellent,” said Caroline, admirably maintaining her composure. “Shall we go, Aurelia? We do not want to be late.”

  “No,” said Aurelia, “although one would not want to be too early. It would be so unfashionable and would stamp us as mere provincial nobodies.”

  “We are provincial nobodies,” said Caroline with a laugh. “But have no fear. If we leave now—and the carriage is waiting—we shall just be seated in time for the curtain.” She started for the door. Aurelia, her fan in one hand and her reticule in the other, followed.

  As Caroline had predicted, they reached their seats only a few minutes before the opera began. Aurelia did not seem to concentrate on the performance, being more interested in discovering who was there and what the other women were wearing.

  “Look, Caroline, there is Lady Sheppingham,” she whispered. “Oh, I wish the lights were on so I could see if she’s wearing the Sheppingham ru
bies.”

  “Oh, hush, Aurelia,” replied Caroline in an undertone. “I’m certain you’re disturbing the other people.”

  “Indeed you are, madam,” said an annoyed voice from behind. Caroline stifled a laugh, but Aurelia began fanning herself in embarrassment. However, she remained silent for the remainder of the first act.

  When the lights went on for the intermission, Caroline and Aurelia strolled out into the foyer. Here Aurelia could gaze to her heart’s content. Even Caroline was amazed at the gown on one of the women, not realizing that a box at the King’s Theatre was the “shop window” of the Cyprians and that it was Harriette Wilson herself who was the object of her scrutiny.

  “I must say I think that gown is quite revealing,” Caroline was saying when a man came up behind her.

  “Dare I believe my eyes?” he asked. “Can it be Miss Chessington?”

  Caroline turned around. Standing there was Adrian Bradford.

  “Yes, I am Caroline Chessington. And you, I believe, are the gentleman I met in Mr. Stokes’s office.”

  “Adrian Bradford,” he said. “I did not expect you to remember my name and I am honored that you remembered my face.”

  Aurelia made a small noise in her throat and Caroline remembered her presence.

  “Aurelia, may I present Mr. Bradford? Mr. Bradford, my cousin, Miss Peakirk.”

  Aurelia held out her hand. “Delighted, Mr. Bradford,” she said. “Did you not say you met Caroline in the office of her man of business?”

  “It was some weeks ago, Aurelia,” interrupted Caroline. “I had to speak to him about something at home.”

  “But I cannot imagine his not coming to see you,” said Aurelia. “Surely you did not have to see him in his office?”

  “Ah, but it was seeing Miss Chessington in such an unlikely setting which intrigued me. Miss Peakirk. It is so rare to see a female with a head for business matters.”

  “Oh, how right you are, Mr. Bradford,” tittered Aurelia. “I myself have no understanding at all of business. My dear father used to tell me I was his silly widgeon. But Caroline—so extraordinary, really—has always been interested in business. She takes such an interest in the running of Br—”

  “I think the performance is about to begin again,” interrupted Caroline, trying to stop Aurelia from giving away the name of her home.

  “May I see you home?” asked Adrian. “I remember that the last time you refused me. I hope you will not refuse me again. I shall be so hurt!”

  Caroline smiled. “I believe there is an actor in your past,” she said. “However, we must decline as we have already made arrangements.”

  “Then may I call on you tomorrow?” he asked. “Surely you cannot refuse a proper request? Miss Peakirk, I appeal to you to use your influence with Miss Chessington.”

  “Oh,” said Aurelia, “we would be honored to have you call on us, wouldn’t we, Caroline?”

  Caroline laughed. “We would be happy to see you tomorrow, Mr. Bradford.” She gave him her address.

  “Until tomorrow then,” said Adrian. He bowed. “I shall see you both then.” He took Aurelia’s hand and kissed it.

  “Such a charming man!” exclaimed Aurelia as they returned to their seats. “So handsome as well! And dressed with such elegance and refinement. Bradford, you say? The Bradford family is quite unexceptionable. I wonder if he is of that family. Why did you not tell me you had made his acquaintance?”

  “I did not think of it,” said Caroline. “I believe you had the same feelings about Mr. Kendal, but we have not seen him in several weeks. Come, the curtain is about to rise.”

  Adrian returned to his seat elated. He had spent the last two weeks looking for Caroline Chessington, to no avail. He had gone riding in the early morning on a horse that could think of nothing but its breakfast, he had promenaded in his aunt’s carriage at the fashionable hour while his aunt scolded him, and he had called on dowagers of his acquaintance to learn what he could of Miss Chessington. He had discovered nothing. No one had heard of a newcomer to London named Chessington. If she were an heiress, she had certainly managed to keep it well concealed. Certainly that companion of hers would not add to her consequence. He knew how to get around that type; he’d certainly danced attendance on enough elderly females. Adrian knew the neighborhood in which they lived to be respectable but not fashionable; he hoped that Stokes’s clerk had not been playing off one of his tricks. If she were wealthy, none of that mattered—not even if her fortune had been built on trade. How fortunate that he’d come to the opera tonight, after he’d almost given up hope of finding her! Caroline, her name was. It suited her. Well, he’d found her. Now he had to see if he could win her.

  While they were returning home, Caroline looked at Aurelia and said, “I wonder if I should have encouraged Mr. Bradford. We know nothing of him.”

  “As I said, my love, the Bradfords are such an old family.”

  “But we do not even know if Mr. Bradford is of the same family. And even if he is, he may be totally unsuitable.”

  “I shouldn’t think so, my love. He seemed so respectable. His manners were quite pleasing.”

  “I thought he seemed a bit fawning, did you not?”

  “Not at all, my love. I believe you mistook his address, his gentlemanliness, for something else. He seemed quite taken with you.”

  “Actually, I think he seemed more taken with you,” Caroline said teasingly.

  “Oh, no, my love, although he did seem to find my conversation amusing. He laughed a number of times.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am certain the laughter was directed entirely at you.”

  Aurelia blushed. “If you are not careful, my love,” she said playfully, “I shall cut you out!” She giggled. Caroline, with great restraint, did not succumb to a fit of laughter until she was safely behind her own closed door.

  Chapter 9

  The next day, when Adrian arrived, he was shown in to the library, where the ladies were seated. They took note again of his blond good looks, shown to advantage by his well-cut coat and tight-fitting pantaloons. His hair, cut in the Brutus style, shone like burnished gold. While they partook of some refreshments they spoke of the Opera, the anticipated arrival of a Royal heir, and the scandalous behavior of the Royal Dukes: Clarence, in the market for a wife if the Government would provide for his ten illegitimate children, and Kent, in the twenty-seventh year of an arrangement with Mme. St. Laurent. Adrian judged this to be just the sort of conversation likely to appeal to Aurelia. He had just begun to steer the conversation to more personal concerns when Giles Kendal was announced. A momentary look of dismay crossed Adrian’s face, but it was quickly erased. Giles, for his part, was surprised to find Aurelia and Caroline with a gentleman with whom he was acquainted, though slightly. He recognized the man as Adrian Bradford; their fathers had been friends at Eton, but the two sons had never been on more than nodding terms.

  “Mr. Kendal,” exclaimed Aurelia. “How nice to see you. Why, Caroline was saying only last night …”

  “Mr. Kendal, are you acquainted with Mr. Bradford?” asked Caroline, not wishing Aurelia to complete the thought. She turned to Adrian. “Mr. Kendal was the first person I met in London and he made me feel quite welcome.”

  “Indeed,” replied Adrian. “Mr. Kendal and I are old friends.”

  “How nice,” exclaimed Aurelia. “Mr. Kendal, will you have some refreshments?”

  “Thank you, no. I have recently eaten. My mother is entertaining a houseguest—a girl just out of the schoolroom who is about to make her come-out. It seems that we are forever eating some meal or other! I shall return to Lord Walsingham’s as fat as a flawn.”

  Everyone smiled.

  “So that is why we have not seen you recently, Mr. Kendal,” said Aurelia.

  “I have been quite busy with Miss Chedworth,” said Giles. “I predict she will become all the rage this Season. Her beauty is something quite out of the ordinary.”

  “Beauty is, of c
ourse, a prerequisite to success in the marriage mart,” said Adrian, “but I have often noticed that a fortune can overcome a tendency to freckle or a deplorable figure.”

  “How cynical you are, Mr. Bradford,” commented Caroline.

  “It is a cynicism born of experience, Miss Chessington,” he replied.

  “Have your experiences with heiresses been so dreadful, Mr. Bradford?” asked Aurelia archly.

  “It is unfortunate. Miss Peakirk, that so often heiresses’ hearts are not as big as their fortunes. Having learned my lesson, I now look for those qualities in a woman likely to prove more lasting than her fortune.”

  “It is refreshing to meet a man not consumed with the desire to marry an heiress,” commented Caroline. “I mean—I understand that many heiresses are forever the target of fortune hunters.”

  “Heiresses, Miss Chessington, are not the only targets,” said Giles dryly. “Matchmaking mamas have been known to consider a man’s wealth or title in choosing a husband for their daughters.”

  “That is true,” conceded Caroline, “and I consider it just as deplorable.”

  Adrian stood up. “I must be going,” he said. “I hope to see you again soon.” He kissed Aurelia’s hand and bowed. “Miss Peakirk, your obedient. Miss Chessington, yours. Kendal.” He turned and left.

  When he was gone, Giles looked at Caroline.

  “If I may ask, Miss Chessington, where did you meet Adrian Bradford?”

  “I was introduced to him, Mr. Kendal. Why do you ask?”

  “I hope you will understand, Miss Chessington, that only my concern for one unfamiliar with London and Society would permit me to interfere in matters properly not my affair. I must tell you that Mr. Bradford has a reputation of being a spendthrift and he is known to have gone through a considerable fortune of his own. He is said to be on the lookout for a wealthy wife.”

  “Then I cannot think why he would be interested in me, Mr. Kendal,” said Caroline.

  “You misunderstand me; I do not mean to intimate that Bradford’s interest in you is for that reason. However, I believe you should be aware of his reputation. I would not speak of it if the facts were not widely known.”