The Elusive Heiress

by Gail Mallin

‘Do you know, you are beginning to sound just like Milly.’ Randal threw down his hat and gloves onto a side table, his expression irritated.

  It was something of a sore subject. Even his younger sister, Emma, had read him the same sermon before departing for Wales last month. The fact that she was joyously embarking upon her honeymoon and had meant the advice most kindly had tempered his desire to tell her to go to the devil.

  Heeding the note of boredom in his visitor’s tone, Godwin abandoned his lecture. ‘Well, I dare say you didn’t come here to talk about marriage. Here, stuff these into that drawer for me,’ he thrust the pile of letters at his nephew and indicated the mahogany sideboard, ‘and sit yourself down.’

  Randal obeyed and, thrusting his chair back from the table, Godwin crossed his legs and made himself more comfortable.

  ‘What brings you here?’ he asked genially.

  ‘I’ve come to ask a favour.’

  Mr Crawford eyed his nephew suspiciously. ‘That’s a new one. Boot is usually on someone else’s leg.’

  In spite of his acerbic response just now, Randal took his position as head of the Crawford family seriously. Why, even as a young lad he’d possessed a strong sense of responsibility and duty. Too strong in some ways for his own good. Otherwise he would have ignored Cedric’s foolish demands to give up his career in the Army.

  Godwin pursed his lips. His late brother had been an odd fellow! Surly as cow’s husband, a more imperious man he had never met. It had sometimes crossed his mind to wonder if his sister-in-law had played Cedric false for he could see no trace of his brother in Randal. Not that Harriet would have played such a low trick. She’d been a sweet little thing so perhaps Randal inherited his good nature from her.

  Gladly dismissing his stiff-rumped brother from his mind, Godwin said, ‘Well, spit it out, lad. What do you want?’

  ‘I want to become your lodger.’

  Randal grinned at the look of amazement on his uncle’s face. ‘Just for a week or two, I hasten to add.’

  ‘But damme, why? Are you planning on refurbishing the Hall? I thought you had the workmen in last year.’

  ‘I did,’ Randal concurred. ‘Everything is in order, which is just as well since I promised Emma I would host a ball for her and Matthew when they get back from Wales. It might be some considerable time before we see them again and they deserve a good send-off.’

  Godwin nodded approval. His favourite niece had married a young lieutenant in Lord Wellington’s army and was going back to Spain with him when his current leave was up. ‘A splendid idea, but it doesn’t explain your request.’

  ‘Don’t you fancy my company, Godwin?’

  Mr Crawford guffawed. ‘Bonehead! You know you are welcome any time. But I still don’t see—’ He paused abruptly. ‘This ain’t got anything to do with that delicious creature Alicia has got staying with her, has it?’

  Randal smiled. His uncle liked to give the impression of being a genial old buffer, but his wits were shrewd. ‘Exactly so, O revered uncle.’

  ‘Admire your taste, my boy. I suppose you want to see more of her?’

  ‘Much more.’ Randal’s mouth twisted in wry amusement. ‘In fact, I’m thinking of offering her a carte blanche.’

  ‘What?’ Godwin gaped at him open-mouthed. Feeling in need of sustenance, he made a long arm to reach the bottle of claret which stood at the near end of the sideboard and locating two clean glasses, poured a generous measure of wine into each. ‘Here, have a drop of this and stop trying to bamboozle me for God’s sake.’

  Randal took a swallow of the wine. ‘This is excellent. Where did you get it?’

  ‘From Williamson’s. I’ll let you have a dozen bottles if you like,’ Godwin, who prided himself upon his palate, was distracted for a moment. Then recovering himself, he fixed his nephew with a stern look. ‘But never mind that now. You cannot offer such an insult to the chit. She ain’t one of your Paphians, she’s a respectable girl!’

  ‘Is she?’

  Godwin glowered at him. ‘Damme, you may look sober, my boy, but you must be as drunk as a wheelbarrow! Of course, she is, she’s Charles Nixon’s daughter and your cousin to boot!’

  ‘I have my doubts about that too.’

  Nonplussed, Godwin could only stare at him and, taking a deep breath, Randal began to explain.

  ‘Not a word of this to anyone, mind,’ he concluded. ‘I gave my word that I would not discuss the matter outside the family.’

  Godwin poured himself another glass of wine and drained it. Then, recovering his usual rather florid colour, he let out a low whistle. ‘Jupiter, there’s going to be a dust-up if the tabbies get wind of Gerald’s rantings.’

  ‘I’ll deal with Sullivan,’ Randal replied. ‘No matter the outcome, I’ll see to it that he doesn’t create a scandal.’

  Looking at the grim set to his nephew’s mouth, Godwin was quite sure Gerald would indeed favour discretion. ‘Aye, but what if this wench does turn out to be an impostor? What are you going to do then?’

  ‘My first duty must be to find out what has happened to the real Kitty.’

  ‘Do you think this chit might know something?’

  Randal nodded. ‘It seems likely. If she is a cheat, she must have had contact with Kitty at some time in order to obtain that letter and the locket.’

  ‘Aye.’ Godwin chewed his lower lip reflectively. ‘Do you think there’s foul play involved?’

  ‘Not on Katharine’s part, I’m sure of it.’ The quick denial sprang instinctively to Randal’s lips. Recovering himself he added more mildly, ‘However, I wouldn’t care to vouch for Sullivan.’

  Godwin eyed him thoughtfully. His nephew was a good judge of character as a rule, but he had admitted to a fancy for the wench.

  ‘I know what you are thinking,’ Randal said ruefully. ‘The same doubts have crossed my own mind.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll own I’m finding impartiality difficult. She’s too damned beautiful!’

  ‘A gorgeous creature,’ Godwin agreed. ‘Hard to imagine her a villainess.’

  Randal’s brow creased in a frown. ‘Maybe my instincts are wrong and she really is my long-lost cousin. At the moment all I can do is try to keep an open mind. On all points.’

  Godwin poured more wine for them both, his expression ruminative. ‘You can tell me to go hang if you wish,’ he said after a long moment of silence, ‘but it seems a damned fool idea to get romantically involved with the chit. At least until you know how the land lies.’

  ‘You are perfectly correct, uncle.’ Randal’s deep voice was as smooth as cream. ‘Unfortunately, I’m afraid your advice is too late.’

  ‘Here, you ain’t fancying yourself in love, are you?’ Godwin demanded in alarm.

  ‘Nothing is further from my thoughts.’ Randal shook his head.

  A thin smile twisted his fine lips. ‘However, I do think she deserves to be taught a lesson.’

  Godwin cocked an enquiring eyebrow. ‘What sort of lesson?’ he asked a touch uneasily.

  He had never seen such a sour expression on his nephew’s face before. As a rule the lad took his amours lightly, but this wench had managed to get under his skin. Somehow or other she had hurt him. And unless his instinct was very much at fault, Randal intended to have revenge!

  ‘Humility,’ Randal replied softly.

  Godwin choked on his wine.

  ‘Whoever she is, she is mistaken if she thinks she can abuse my trust to further her own ends,’ Randal continued in the same steely tone. ‘I dislike being played for a fool.’

  There was a wicked glint in his brilliant blue eyes. ‘What’s sauce for the goose, eh, O revered uncle? By fair means or foul, I intend to fix my interest with our mysterious heiress and then we shall see who has the last laugh!’

  * * * *

  The days following the Massey’s rout seemed the longest Kate had ever known. Thanks to Alicia’s social ambitions, she was kept busy, but each event she attended struck her as more tedious than the last. Eve
n a concert of music at the Royal Hotel failed to engage her interest.

  ‘I wish Sullivan would answer Mr Hilton’s letter!’ she complained to Mary as she changed her plain morning gown ready to accompany Lady Edgeworth on an outing to the Groves, a fashionable promenade spot near the river. ‘I hate all this waiting. It is driving me insane!’

  Mary unfolded the Paisley shawl Kate was to wear—it being a warm sunny afternoon—and smoothed out its creases as she debated a reply.

  She knew what was really bothering Kate. The lass had a sore conscience. Thankfully, the ploy of treating Redesmere badly seemed to have worked, he hadn’t been near all week. Kate hadn’t uttered a word of regret and yet, if Mary was any judge, she was missing him something shocking.

  But it would do no good to say so!

  ‘Happen you’ll feel better when we hear from Ned,’ Mary murmured soothingly. ‘It’s been ten days since we posted that letter.’

  Kate sighed. ‘He is probably cursing me. The company can’t afford to lose us both.’ She hesitated. ‘Perhaps you ought to go back.’

  ‘Nay, I’ll not leave you.’ Mary gave her a wry grin. ‘We’re in this together, lass. Sink or swim!’

  Kate smiled back. Dear Mary, what would she do without her unfailing support!

  ‘There. You’ll do.’ Mary gave the shawl one last tweak into position and stepped back to view her handiwork. By God, but the lass repaid proper dressing! In that eau-de-nil jaconet she looked as fine as a queen. No one would ever dream she was other than a lady.

  ‘You know, it’s a crying shame you can’t accept an offer from that Egerton lad.’

  Kate winced, her face twisting into an involuntary grimace.

  ‘Sorry! I spoke without thinking,’ Mary apologised. ‘Go on. Be off with you and try not to fret.’

  Kate thought about Tom as she descended to the hallway. He had paid a morning call yesterday and had secured Alicia’s permission to speak to her in private. Guessing he meant to propose, Kate had managed to head him off. Skilfully implying she had a sweetheart back home in America, she hinted that any serious attentions were unwelcome.

  To do him justice she didn’t think Tom was a fortune hunter. He was a nice boy who had simply tumbled into love with the unreal image he had formed of her in his own mind. She had seen the same symptoms before in the young men who flocked into the Green Room to pay shy homage to Mrs Devlin after a performance. Unless she had read him completely amiss, Tom’s feelings ran no deeper than theirs and his infatuation would fade soon enough once she left Chester.

  There was no need to wound his pride with a sharp rejection.

  Kate shuddered. She didn’t think she would ever be able to forget the look of amazed disbelief in Randal’s eyes when she had spurned his company at the Massey’s rout. Her act as a silly selfish flirt was one of the hardest roles she had ever played. He had swiftly veiled his feelings, but she knew she had hurt him.

  The ache of it still echoed in her own heart.

  Preoccupied with her thoughts, Kate rounded the final bend of the stairs. For an instant her brain refused to recognise the tall figure standing in the hall and then she had to clutch at the polished banister to support herself as her knees almost gave way with shock.

  ‘What…what are you doing here?’ she gasped.

  ‘Waiting to escort you to the Groves.’ Lord Redesmere gave her a calm smile. ‘Alicia is feeling indisposed.’

  ‘But I thought…’ Kate bit off what she had been about to say and substituted an excuse. ‘I…I don’t think I should go out if she is feeling unwell.’

  ‘A slight headache only. She specifically charged me with the task of ensuring that you did not sacrifice this lovely afternoon out of a mistaken sense of duty.’

  Randal walked to the bottom of the stairs. ‘You are free to leave, Katharine. Let’s not waste any more time.’

  Kate hesitated, fighting the surge of joy which battered her resolve to stand firm and refuse.

  ‘Come,’ he said firmly, holding out his arm to her and Kate found herself meekly obeying.

  On their way out to the carriage Kate allowed her starved senses to drink in his immaculate appearance. He was wearing a dark green coat she hadn’t seen before and a very smart waistcoat in pale lemon. She wondered if he had been out in the sun, his wheat-blond hair had acquired lighter streaks and his face was bronzed.

  He looked even more handsome than her memory had painted him and Kate’s heart twisted within her. She knew she was a fool, but she didn’t want him to think badly of her!

  ‘Tell me when you are you ready.’ Randal said, patiently steadying his pair while she unfurled her silk parasol to protect her complexion against the hot sun.

  His thoughtfulness aroused a flicker of hope in Kate. Why was he being so nice to her? Indeed, why did he want to take her out driving at all? Was it possible he had forgiven her coldness?

  ‘I’m sorry I have not been to call on you,’ Randal said easily as they set off. ‘I’ve been lending a hand with haymaking.’

  ‘That explains your colour,’ Kate exclaimed unthinkingly.

  Randal brushed off her hasty apology. ‘You should have seen me when I came home from Egypt,’ he joked. ‘I was as brown as a cobnut.’

  Kate’s spirits bubbled upwards. Impossible as it seemed, he was extending an olive branch to her! Ignoring the warning voice of caution which screamed that nothing in their circumstances had changed, she smiled back at him, the last remnants of her constraint dissolving in a rush of happiness.

  ‘I do believe you are gammoning me again,’ she declared, instinctively abandoning her role as Kitty and slipping back into her own skin. ‘Why on earth should you wish to travel to Egypt of all places? No one goes there.’

  Hearing her quicksilver laughter, Randal experienced an exultation that had nothing to do with the success of his scheme.

  He had set out today determined to force her to accompany him. He hadn’t given her a chance to refuse his company and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had reacted angrily. However, instead of resenting his highhandedness, she was treating him with all her old camaraderie. Had she repented of her abominable behaviour?

  Ignoring the tiny voice which whispered in his mind that she might just be as pleased to see him as he had been to see her, he continued in the same bantering tone. ‘You may laugh, Miss Nixon, but I swear to you that I enjoyed my time there more than most countries I’ve visited, in spite of a French hussar who had an ambition to separate my head from my neck and came close to succeeding.’

  ‘You were there to fight Napoleon?’ Kate suddenly remembered he had been in the army.

  He nodded, his gaze flicking away to survey the road. ‘My regiment was ordered to Egypt with Abercromby.’

  The Egyptian campaign had taken place some ten years ago. Kate wasn’t sure how much Kitty might have heard of it, but she could recall how The Cumberland Pacquet and the other newssheets her father subscribed to had been full of stories about Sir Ralph Abercromby’s brave heroism and his successful attempt against all the odds to prevent Napoleon from adding Egypt to his conquests.

  ‘The General was killed at the Battle of Aboukir, was he not?’ she said cautiously, reckoning that Kitty might know this simple fact at least.

  ‘He died of his wounds. A very brave and able man.’ Randal’s expression was sombre as he recalled the fierce fighting that had taken place in that hot dry land. The casualties had been heavy. They had been badly outnumbered and had lacked siege guns, but the men had been determined to do their duty and show the world that the French were not invincible.

  ‘Under his successor, General Hely-Hutchinson we took Cairo,’ Randal continued. ‘That was at the end of June, but the French garrison in Alexandria managed to cling on until October. They were only saved by the signing of the Peace Treaty.’

  A frown suddenly marred his features and Kate understood why. Her own father, although weary of war and like everyone else in the country longing
for it to end, had fulminated against the Government for throwing away the fruits of recent victory in their haste to appease Napoleon’s threat of invasion. The Peace of Amiens had proved a false dawn and given the French eighteen months to rearm before the fighting had begun all over again.

  Randal shrugged, his grim expression lightening. ‘Napoleon may have pulled off his bluff and frightened Addington and Hawkesbury witless, but, by God, Lord Hutchinson was made of sterner stuff! He absolutely refused to let the French keep any of the valuables they had looted during their stay in Egypt. He appointed Sir Tomkyns Hilgrove Turner to organise the transfer of everything except small personal items into our keeping. Knowing I was interested in antiquities, Turner requested my assistance.’

  A grin split Randal’s tanned face. ‘I must confess that I had a wonderful time! The French tried every kind of trick to hide things from us. Old Menou was furious when we discovered where he had hidden the Rosetta Stone and snatched it back.’

  Kate blinked at him, struggling to absorb this unexpected information. She hadn’t known he had scholarly interests. Kitty had never mentioned anything of the sort!

  ‘I remember hearing something about the Rosetta Stone,’ she murmured. ‘Papa was interested in the discoveries Napoleon’s scholars made. Some French soldiers found it, didn’t they?’

  ‘Aye, in the ruins of Fort St Julien, which stands on the mouth of the Nile near the town of Rosetta. It was a slab of black basalt, a damned—I mean dashed—heavy lump of a thing carved with three parallel inscriptions.’ Randal chuckled. ‘We had to take a detachment of artillerymen and a devil-cart to carry it off back to Turner’s house. Mind you, he had the decency to allow French scholars to make a cast before it was packed up to be sent home.’

  Kate inclined her head to one side in thought. ‘But why was it so important?’ she asked. ‘I recall that scholars were very excited at its discovery, but I never really understood why.’

  Randal glanced across at her. Her lovely face had taken on the glow of animation he remembered from the day they had visited the Castle.

  ‘It is important because one of the three inscriptions it bore was in Greek. It translates as a decree praising King Ptolemy V and we think that the other two inscriptions in the hieroglyphic and demotic of the ancient Egyptians say the same thing.’