The Elusive Heiress

by Gail Mallin

  ‘I should not wish to cause you any inconvenience, ma’am.’ Kate swallowed her pride, mentally resolving to repay Alicia out of Kitty’s £500 the instant the charade was over. ‘I shall be happy to accompany you wherever you wish to go if that is what you desire.’

  ‘Then you will accept my offer?’ Alicia clapped her hands together. ‘Oh famous! We shall have such fun, I promise you!’ She smiled happily at Kate. ‘I think we must start with the Legh’s drum tomorrow night and then there is Lady Massey’s rout on the seventh of June. I shall hold an evening party for you of course and there are events such as the musicale at the Royal Hotel next week, which I’m sure you will enjoy.’

  ‘I only managed to pack two evening dresses,’ Kate murmured, wondering what the devil she had let herself in for.

  ‘Then we must go shopping without delay! Oh I shall enjoy taking you to Celestine’s! You have the perfect figure to carry off her creations. I saw a lovely spider gauze there last week which I long to buy for you.’

  Alicia’s smile faded at the look of reluctance which spread over her guest’s features. ‘You will allow me to spoil you a little, won’t you, Kitty?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘I am your godmother after all.’

  ‘I should be happy to accept any small token of affection, ma’am,’ Kate answered, hoping Alicia would take the hint since the idea of taking expensive presents from a woman she was deliberately duping revolted her.

  There was a tense little silence.

  ‘Very well. I promise not to buy anything without your approval since I can see that you do not like being beholden to other people,’ Alicia said at last. ‘I admire you for it, but I must say your attitude surprises me. Is it usual in America for girls to be so independent?’

  This piece of unexpected shrewdness startled Kate and she realised that she must not relax her guard and confuse Alicia’s frivolous nature and open-handed kindness with stupidity.

  ‘I cannot speak for other families, but I was brought up to stand on my own two feet,’ she replied carefully. ‘Few restrictions are placed on my freedom.’

  ‘You will find matters arranged rather differently here,’ Alicia warned. ‘Girls are expected to conduct themselves with decorum, not to assert themselves.’

  ‘After the way lord Redesmere reacted to the story of my escape I suspected as much, ma’am!’ Kate replied tartly.

  Alicia coughed. ‘Randal is inclined to be forthright,’ she murmured uneasily.

  ‘He obviously thinks I am a silly, under-bred female who has no notion of how to behave.’ Kate’s tone was deliberately scornful. ‘I expect he will tell you to send me packing before I cause you trouble,’ she added, seizing the opportunity to strengthen her position.

  Lady Edgeworth bridled, as Kate guessed she would.

  ‘If he dares say such a thing to me, I shall show him the door!’ she exclaimed indignantly.

  Satisfied, Kate gave a tiny shrug. ‘I do not care if Lord Redesmere holds a low opinion of me,’ she said with less than perfect truth. ‘My conscience is clear and that matters more to me than what other people think.’

  ‘That was always your Papa’s attitude too.’ Her hostess smiled reminiscently. ‘You remind me of him very much, you know. Lud, he could be so stubborn! Why, I could tell you a dozen tales—’

  She came to an abrupt halt and blinked rather mistily. ‘Oh dear, I think we had better change the subject or I shall disgrace myself by becoming a watering pot!’

  ‘Shall we get on with your list, ma’am?’ Kate suggested gently.

  ‘The very thing, my dear!’ Lady Edgeworth banished the sentimental tears which threatened to overwhelm her. ‘And when we are finished we shall visit Celestine’s. That is, if you are agreeable, Kitty?’

  ‘I should also like to pay a call upon Messrs. Hilton, Tyler and Dibbs,’ Kate said. ‘Would that be possible?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. But let’s go to Celestine’s first, yes?’

  Bowing to the inevitable, Kate dipped her glossy head in graceful acquiescence.

  * * * *

  ‘Miss Kitty Nixon, sir.’

  With a nod of thanks to the young clerk who had announced her, Kate swept into the inner sanctum of the solicitors who had acted for old Nabob Nixon.

  Given that the building was an ancient half-timbered edifice in Watergate Street, she wasn’t altogether surprised to find the senior partner’s office was somewhat small and cramped. Although one narrow leaded casement had been thrown open to admit what little breeze the warm afternoon afforded, it was also dark, an impression intensified by heavy oak panelling and the numerous bookcases which crowded the room.

  More books and papers littered a large mahogany writing table behind which sat Alan Hilton. He rose to his feet at her entrance and Kate saw that he was a thin, middle-aged individual who wore a plain neckcloth and a neat, white-powdered bag-wig.

  Kate gave him her best smile as she stepped forward to greet him, but the words died on her lips as she suddenly realised that they were not alone.

  A man was standing in the shadows by one of the corner bookcases. As he moved towards the centre of the room and into the light his fair hair gleamed gold.

  ‘Good afternoon. I must apologise if I startled you. However, ma’am, I cannot say I’m surprised to see you here.’

  The sound of Lord Redesmere’s deep musical voice sent a shiver down Kate’s spine, although she couldn’t have said whether it was from fear or a swift involuntary pleasure at his unexpected appearance.

  He was just as tall and broad-shouldered as memory painted him. Elegantly garbed in cream pantaloons and a single-breasted coat of blue superfine worn open over a pale lemon waistcoat he also looked annoyingly handsome!

  Hastily rearranging her features to conceal her perturbation, Kate dipped an icily polite curtsey. ‘My lord.’

  ‘Shall we sit down?’ Mr Hilton gestured hastily to a pair of square-backed mahogany chairs arranged in front of his desk.

  Kate took the nearest one and settled herself with an angry swish of her cambric skirts. She had dressed for this meeting with the greatest care, choosing her almond green walking dress with the vandyked hem and a pretty chip-straw hat. Both her mirror and Alicia had told her that she looked sweetly demure, but from the wary expression on the lawyer’s face it seemed her efforts might have been wasted.

  He looked at her as if he thought she might bite!

  To her further annoyance, she was very conscious of Redesmere seating himself next to her. Within the confines of this cramped room he seemed larger and more threateningly virile than ever!

  Determined to ignore him, she fixed her gaze firmly on Mr Hilton. ‘Am I to apprehend, sir, that my cousin has already told you I am an impostor?’ she demanded coolly.

  ‘My dear Miss Nix…my dear young lady!’ Taken aback, Alan Hilton glanced helplessly at his noble client. ‘Er…there does seem to be some confusion. Pray do not take offence.’

  Kate raised her brows at him. ‘To be called a liar is not pleasant, sir.’

  ‘You…you still insist that you are Kitty Nixon?’

  ‘Of course I am!’ Kate let impatience flood her tone. ‘It is nonsense to suggest otherwise.’

  An expressive snort of derision from the man at her side greeted this statement and she turned to glare furiously at him.

  It was a mistake.

  Their gaze met like a clash of steel and locked in combat. Kate sucked in her breath, her pulse quickening as they stared at each other. God, but his eyes were blue!

  ‘Ahem!’ The lawyer coughed delicately, breaking the tense silence.

  The spell shattered and Kate managed to drag her gaze away, but a queer little shiver feathered slowly down her spine and it was all she could do to concentrate on the lawyer’s rather monotonous voice.

  ‘Mr Gerald Sullivan has written to inform us that his niece suffered a fatal accident. Whilst out for a stroll one evening she fell into deep water and drowned.’

  ‘Rubbish,�
�� snapped Kate, recovering her composure. Fell indeed! What would they say if she told them what really happened, that Kitty had been knocked on the head and pushed into the river! ‘My uncle is lying. He is heavily in debt and wants to grab what he can of the Nixon fortune.’

  ‘And you don’t?’

  Kate ignored his lordship’s smooth interruption. ‘Let me ask you this, Mr Hilton, what proof does my uncle offer? Can he name you witnesses to this tragedy?’

  The lawyer shook his head.

  ‘No, I thought not.’ Kate’s lip curled. ‘And what of the body? Has he produced it for inspection?’

  Mr Hilton consulted his papers. ‘He says that Miss Nixon’s mortal remains have not been recovered as of yet.’

  ‘I see.’ Kate let out a scornful laugh. ‘No witnesses and no body. How very convenient!’

  ‘You present a clever case, ma’am.’

  Kate flicked at wary glance at his lordship.

  ‘There is no question that Sullivan would benefit from my cousin’s death,’ Randal continued in the same cool tones. ‘However, although he is a greedy man, he is not a fool and I hardly think he would claim that Kitty was dead unless he had reason to believe it true.’

  ‘I agree, my lord,’ Mr Hilton chimed in. ‘To attempt such a deception would be fruitless. The instant Miss Nixon reappeared he would be exposed as a liar and his reputation damaged beyond repair.’

  Kate bit down hard on her tongue. She longed to shout out that the Sullivans had never intended Kitty to be seen again. They had plotted murder!

  ‘It may be that he does think me dead.’ Kate decided it could do no harm to concede this point. ‘I did leave in extreme haste without furnishing any explanation.’

  ‘But why should you act in such a rash manner, my dear young lady?’ exclaimed Mr Hilton in a shocked voice.

  Kate began to explain how matters had stood. ‘In the end, sir, I began to feel so very uncomfortable at Ballyhad House that I simply had to get away.’

  Randal eyed her pure profile thoughtfully.

  She didn’t sound as if she was lying. In fact, he would have sworn to her sincerity. And yet…

  ‘You spoke of Gerald having no proof. Can you offer us any proof, ma’am, that you are the person you claim to be?’ he asked as soon as Kate finished speaking.

  Although she had been expecting this question, Kate’s pulse still gave a little flicker of alarm.

  ‘Of course,’ she responded coolly, inwardly grateful for the years of training which enabled her to keep her voice level and her hands perfectly steady as she opened the knitted silk reticule she had brought with her.

  Withdrawing a slightly crumpled letter she lent forward and laid it on the desk in front of Mr Hilton. ‘This is for you, sir, from my Mama. You may compare the handwriting to her earlier missives if you wish.’

  Mr Hilton picked it up rather gingerly and breaking open the wafer perused it carefully before handing it over to Randal.

  ‘The content tells us nothing.’ A small frown creased Lord Redesmere’s dark brows. ‘However, the hand does appear to be that of Mrs Nixon.’

  ‘Mrs Ashe, if you please,’ Kate reminded him crisply, relief welling up in her.

  Thank heavens Kitty had been right! She had promised them that her handwriting was virtually identical to her mother’s when she had offered to make a fresh copy of Lydia’s letter for Kate to use.

  ‘Mama insisted on writing a formal letter of introduction. She didn’t want anyone to think us backward in the proper civilities. I can remember exactly what it said for I helped her to compose it,’ Kitty had told them earnestly.

  The original letter, which Kitty had taken to keeping on her person after finding evidence that the Sullivans were prying into her belongings, had been stowed in the pocket of her cloak, but it had not survived their mutual immersion in the river. The ink had run adding to the water stains and everyone in the Gillman Players agreed that Kate could not offer such a sorry object as a credential to Messrs. Hilton, Tyler and Dibbs, particularly as to do so might arouse the very suspicions they were trying to avoid.

  ‘This is scarcely conclusive. Do you have any official papers?’ Lord Redesmere laid the letter back on the desk.

  ‘Not on me, no. My uncle insisted on taking my certificate of American citizenship into his care. He said he would keep it safe for me.’ Kate shrugged lightly, praying that they wouldn’t guess how tension was knotting her stomach. She could feel Crawford watching her like a hawk.

  ‘Why didn’t you ask for it back?’

  ‘I was scared of him! Why else do you think I ran away?’ Kate glared at him. What was the matter with the man? He must have a heart of stone!

  ‘I see.’ Apparently unimpressed by her plight, his lordship flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculate sleeve. ‘In that case, can you offer us any other proof?’

  Kate’s temper slipped its tight leash.

  In a swift gesture she pointed to the gold locket which she wore around her neck. ‘I suppose I also forged these,’ she snapped, flicking it open to reveal two miniature portraits.

  With a slow deliberation Randal raised his quizzing glass and proceeded to stare intently at the locket lying upon her creamy bosom.

  Her cheeks flushing, Kate reached up to undo the chain, meaning to hand the locket to him, but in her agitated haste her fingers fumbled the task.

  ‘Allow me.’ Before she could frame a protest, he rose swiftly to his feet and came to her aid.

  She had washed her hair with jasmine. He could smell the delicate sweetness as he gently moved the heavy, shining ringlets aside. How soft they felt, like the finest silk!

  A quiver of unexpected pleasure shot through Kate at the touch of his warm hands, quenching her anger. She sat very still, acutely consciously of his strong, well-muscled thighs brushing against her shoulders. To her horror, she suddenly realised that she wanted to turn round and clasp him in her arms.

  ‘Please bend your head forward a little.’

  In a daze Kate obeyed the quiet command and felt his fingers move to the clasp. Her heart began to thump. She knew she ought to have more sense, but it made no difference.

  Randal undid the clasp and the chain fell away. For an instant he remained motionless staring down at the tender curve of her bare nape. Mastering the crazy impulse to press a kiss upon her satiny skin, he turned away and sat down again.

  The locket had fallen into her lap. With an effort, Kate pulled herself together and picked it up. Avoiding his gaze, she held it out to Randal. ‘My father gave this to my mother on their wedding day. I believe it originally belonged to his mother.’

  Her hand was trembling. Why? Was it guilt, or had she too felt something at his touch? And why should that particular thought please him so much?

  Randal sternly quelled his irrational speculations and took the locket. He stared down at the twin portraits. Charmingly executed in watercolours, they depicted a young man and woman clad in the styles of some twenty years ago.

  Silently, he handed the locket over to the lawyer.

  ‘Mama commissioned a travelling artist to paint them soon after their arrival in Massachusetts. Do you recognise my father, sir?’ Kate asked, fixing her great dark eyes on Alan Hilton’s face.

  ‘Indeed. The likeness is excellent.’ The lawyer paused. ‘That is to say, I recognise this as an accurate portrayal of Mr Charles Nixon.’ He shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘The locket is also known to me. I was present when Mr Charles received it from his father. However, my dear young lady, in itself this locket does not prove that Charles Nixon was your father.’

  ‘Oh come, sir!’ Kate gave him her most charming smile. ‘Is it likely that an impostor would possess such a family heirloom? And what about Mama’s letter? How do you account for that?’ She shook her head coquettishly, setting her sable curls dancing. ‘Surely, it is more logical to accept that this sorry confusion has arisen solely because my uncle made a mistake?’

  ‘Are y
ou claiming that Gerald allowed optimism to cloud his judgement when you vanished?’ Randal demanded.

  Kate reluctantly turned to face him. How she wished she only had to deal with Mr Hilton! The lawyer might be cautious, but she sensed a growing sympathy behind his dry manner.

  ‘I cannot think of any other explanation, my lord.’ Kate opened her eyes wide in an expression of limpid innocence and smiled at him sweetly.

  Randal stared back at her. Hellfire, why did she have to be so damned attractive! It made it difficult to think!

  ‘Perhaps our first reaction was too hasty,’ Mr Hilton murmured, giving a dry little cough.

  Kate flashed him a look of gratitude. ‘Oh I am relieved to hear you say so, Mr Hilton! It is dreadful to be thought a liar!’

  Whipping out a lace-trimmed handkerchief from her reticule, Kate applied it dextrously to the corners of her eyes and gave an artistic little sniff. ‘You cannot imagine how upset and worried I have been,’ she sighed, risking a tiny sob.

  ‘Pray do not disturb yourself, my dear young lady,’ Mr Hilton squeaked, his voice rising in alarm.

  Risking a peep over the edge of her handkerchief, Kate saw him leap gallantly to his feet. ‘Let me procure you a restorative.’

  Satisfied that he had fallen for her damsel in distress ploy, Kate was about to refuse his offer and press home her advantage when Lord Redesmere forestalled her.

  ‘A glass of sherry would be an excellent notion, Alan. I shall keep Miss…Nixon company while you fetch it.’

  Somewhat offended at the assumption that he meant to act as his own errand boy, Mr Hilton almost failed to note the accompanying slight jerk of his lordship’s fair head.

  ‘Ah yes. Of course.’ Belatedly realising that his client wanted a chance to speak to the girl in private Mr Hilton edged towards the door. ‘I…I don’t know if we have anything to suit a lady’s palate so I may be a few moments.’

  Kate stared at his retreating back and had to struggle not to curse.

  ‘Yes, I know. Very shabby of him to abandon you like that.’ Randal’s tone held mock sympathy. ‘Still, you can take comfort from the fact that his desertion has proved a miraculous cure for your tears.’