His Unexpected Heiress: Entangled Inheritances

by Britton, Sally

  The children picked up the topic with excitement, as she hoped they would.

  When the carriage stopped before the house, Elaine readied herself to dismiss the gentleman for the rest of the day. She needed to consult her housekeeper on the matter of setting up entertainment for a group of children. Mrs. Mayworth would have more practical knowledge of such a thing than Adam, after all.

  Adam helped her from the carriage, and she opened her mouth to bid him farewell.

  “Miss Chapple.” Graham stood at the top of the steps, the door closed behind him, without his customary calm, his face pale. He hurried down the steps without the composure she’d come to admire in him.

  “Yes, Mr. Graham?” she asked, a little bubble of fear rising in her chest.

  “You have a guest.” His eyes darted to Adam, who regarded the butler with a somewhat perplexed stare. The situation might have been amusing if it did not make her so nervous. “It’s Mrs. Gregory Stalwart.”

  The moment the name left the butler’s mouth, a curse left Adam’s. He winced and glanced at a wide-eyed William. “Forgive my language. But—” He shot a look at the upstairs windows. “Which room is she in?”

  “The west wing, the morning room.” Somewhere she would not see them arrive home from church. Graham turned from Adam back to Elaine. “I am sorry, mistress, but she was in the house before I could get more than two words out. I did not think, in her condition, it appropriate to do anything other than allow her inside.”

  “I am sure you did your best, Mr. Graham. Now, would someone please tell me who Mrs. Stalwart is and why she frightens you both?” At least she kept her tone even, nothing of her own discomfort in her voice.

  With a deep frown, Adam took off his hat and handed it to the butler, then stripped off his gloves and dropped them in the hat. “She is my sister, Georgiana. A most unpleasant woman, and currently in the family way.”

  Ah, one of the disapproving members of Adam’s family. Things started to make sense. “She cannot be that terrible.”

  Graham and Adam both gave her incredulous stares. Running a hand through his hair, Adam said, “There are only two reasons for her to be here. She is either launching a surprise attack or has taken up a scouting mission.”

  “Oh, really.” Elaine took in the all-too-intrigued stares of the children. “You both return to the nursery. We will take our walk in the garden later.” They went, Adam and Elaine following behind, the butler carrying Adam’s things. He obviously did not think she should meet with his sister alone.

  Once in the entry hall, the children went up the staircase while Elaine rid herself of gloves, bonnet, and reticule. A moment with the mirror in the foyer allowed her to smooth her hair back into place.

  When she turned around, she found Adam watching her again. His eyes had darkened, and he bristled with energy. Imagining how a woman could cause such agitation in the normally charming man proved difficult.

  He did not offer his arm to her but followed as Elaine went up the stairs. The east wing contained the family bedrooms and more informal rooms. The west wing had finer decor and guest rooms. Had Graham put the visitor in the more formal rooms for a reason, or had she chosen to wait there in order to make a statement? Elaine wished she had thought to ask.

  Oh, she was beginning to think like them; the gentry giving meaning to something as simple as where a person waited to be greeted had struck her as foolish when she learned of all the ways one could offer honor or a slight to a guest. Mrs. Harper’s lessons had given her numerous instructions on how to put people together at a table in a way that would satisfy all guests, no matter their rank. But the headmistress had neglected to teach how one might offer insult while still maintaining a veneer of politeness.

  When Elaine came to the closed door of the morning room, a place she was told would be the best to accept visits from the most important women in the area, she hesitated.

  Adam moved to stand directly behind her, his presence immediately soothing her nerves. “I am with you, Miss Chapple,” he whispered, the words as encouraging as the moment he had held her hand the day before.

  Without addressing him, she opened the door and entered the room with her head held high and her brightest of smiles in place. The same sort of smile she wore when her most difficult customers came to call.

  The woman waiting inside the sitting room wore a dress of brilliant green, and a bonnet with large purple feathers. She did not rise from her seat, which Elaine could excuse when she saw the very round middle proclaiming her guest’s impending motherhood. Her eyes were a shade of blue that nearly matched her brother’s, but that appeared to be the only trait she shared with him. Her bottom lip protruded in a pout.

  “Adam,” she said, voice high and breathy. “Where have you been? And who is this? I have come at Mama’s request to meet the seamstress.”

  Elaine had to work at keeping her expression pleasant. She clasped her hands before her and turned to look up at Adam, who stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

  “Georgiana, how good it is to see you. And such a surprise. We were at church.” He did not even try to sound or appear pleased to see his sister, but he acted with a cold politeness that surprised Elaine. “Miss Chapple, may I present to you my sister, Mrs. Gregory Stalwart. Georgiana, this is Miss Chapple, the former seamstress.”

  The gasp of shock from Mrs. Stalwart almost satisfied Elaine, but when the woman made as if to push herself out of the chair, Elaine came forward with both hands raised to stop her.

  “Oh, please do not trouble yourself, Mrs. Stalwart. Take your ease. You need not stand upon ceremony with me.” Unpleasant or not, the woman’s condition ought to be considered.

  With a somewhat affronted expression, the pouting woman continued upward. “I am perfectly capable of standing, Miss Chapple.” Then she curtsied, the gesture graceful despite her pregnancy. “If I am well enough to travel here by coach, I ought to be well enough to properly greet someone.” She sniffed and lifted her nose in the air.

  “Your dedication to propriety is to be commended,” Adam said before gesturing with a hand for Elaine to take a seat. Once she lowered herself into a chair, Adam on the couch, his sister finally sat back down. “How is our mother?”

  Georgiana had enough self-awareness to blush. “In tolerable health, and she is considering returning to the country sooner than usual.” Then she turned her cold stare back in Elaine’s direction. “Our mother spends as much time as possible in London every year.”

  “How pleasant for her,” Elaine said cheerfully. “And how wonderful for you, to have your mother near at such an important time.”

  Hand falling to her stomach, Georgiana’s nose wrinkled. “Quite.” She tilted her head to the side. “Miss Chapple, I hope you will not find me too presumptuous to ask, but I am overcome by my curiosity.” The dry manner in which the woman spoke made that doubtful. “How exactly did you know our dear late uncle?”

  A question easily answered. “I met him once, when I offered him the shelter of my shop during a rainstorm. We had a quarter of an hour’s conversation, we drank tea, and then he left. I really had no idea of who he was until the solicitor came to inform me that he had died.”

  “I see. How extraordinary.” Then Georgiana’s narrowed eyes cut to her brother. “And is Adam proving helpful as you come to understand your new place in Society?”

  Something about that look set Elaine on edge. There was more to the question, perhaps an insinuation, that put her on the defense. “Yes, I am most thankful for all his kind advice and assistance. I do not know what I would do without Mr. Gillensford’s patient guidance.” Hazarding a glance at Adam, she tried to determine if that had been the correct thing to say.

  He did not so much as look at her but kept his eyes upon his sister, a coldness to his stare that would cause Elaine to shudder were it directed at her. “I am certain you would manage, Miss Chapple. You should have seen her today, Georgiana. Everyone was most eager to meet her.”
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  The room had turned into a battle ground, but Elaine could not say who currently held the upper hand.

  The sour-faced woman raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I am certain they were. You must also tell me, Miss Chapple, how you like this way of life as compared to running your shop.” She drew out the word slowly, as though unfamiliar with uttering such a thing.

  “It is different,” Elaine admitted. “There is much to learn. I was not brought up to such a position. The inheritance has been a great blessing, of course.”

  “Yes, of course.” Georgiana simpered unconvincingly. “I absolutely must compliment you on your fine manners. I confess, when I thought through the implications of a tradeswoman installing herself at Tertium Park, I wondered what I might find when I entered the house. Yet everything remains as stately as ever, and you are not at all what I expected.”

  Did the woman assume Elaine the sort to have burned the house to the ground? Or litter the rooms with crude furniture? The insinuation that Elaine would have less than a polite bearing made her spine stiffen.

  “People in trade are still capable of civilized behavior, Mrs. Stalwart. I am sorry that you have had experience that has led you to believe otherwise.” Elaine offered up a most innocent expression, her smile tempered and her eyes as large as she could make them.

  Mrs. Stalwart drew back, her smirk momentarily misplaced.

  Adam coughed suddenly and raised his fist to cover the sound, which Elaine suspected might have started as a chuckle. “Forgive me,” he said when his sister glared at him. “The dust from the road, you know.”

  “You always were a highly susceptible gentleman.” His sister touched her cheek and lowered her eyes. “Poor Adam. Even the suggestion of a cough soon becomes an epidemic. I do hope you take care, brother dear. I would so hate to see you out of sorts. Especially with Miss Chapple reliant upon you.”

  Clenching her hands tighter in her lap, Elaine hurried to change the subject. “Your gown is most lovely, Mrs. Stalwart. Do you employ Mrs. Fowler to create your wardrobe?”

  With a wave of her hand, Mrs. Stalwart dismissed that suggestion. “Of course not. I have a French modiste in London. I am afraid you will find our local seamstress has quite provincial tastes. I would never trust my wardrobe to the hands of someone with such low standards.”

  The way the snobbish woman had managed to insult Mrs. Fowler and Elaine in such a succinct manner almost impressed her.

  “How fortunate you have found a seamstress capable of handling your particular tastes, Mrs. Stalwart.” Would the visit never end? Lobbing insulting phrases back and forth across the room proved more tiresome than playing a game of battledore. Or cricket.

  “Yes, well, those of more discerning tastes are more than capable of finding the worthy and avoiding those who simply to do not fit the mold.”

  If they were playing cricket, Elaine would make a rather unorthodox use of the bat at that moment. “I completely understand you, Mrs. Stalwart.” She could feel the tension in Adam as he sat smoldering like an ember, needing only the right kindling to burst into a violent flame. “I hope you will understand me when I tell you that you will always be a welcome visitor in my home.” She stood, signaling the end of the visit. “Especially since you are such a cheerful guest.”

  Mrs. Stalwart’s eyes gleamed in triumph. After a short struggle against her midsection, she came out of her chair. “That is most kind of you, Miss Chapple. However, I do not think I will return again soon. My confinement draws near, you understand.” She cast a speculative look to Adam. “I am sending Mama a letter. As I know you have not taken the opportunity to write her, is there anything I should include on your behalf?”

  Adam, who had also come to his feet, adjusted his coat. “Send her my love, of course, and my apologies for being a less than dutiful son.”

  “Good day to you both.” She took her leave of them, a self-satisfied, reptilian smile upon her face. Mrs. Stalwart might have been lovely had she not appeared at every moment as though she enjoyed squishing ladybirds beneath her heel. After she passed through the door, she closed it behind her.

  The heat drained from Elaine’s face, but Adam crossed the room and opened the door again. He stood in the doorway, his back to her, staring down the hall where his sister likely saw him. The intent of that woman’s move, purposefully shutting an unmarried woman in a room with a man to whom she was not related, had clear insinuations. Like Mrs. Stalwart’s conversation.

  Lowering herself back to her seat, Elaine waited for Adam to turn around again. He would watch, she supposed, until his sister completely vanished down the hall. At last Adam leaned against the door frame, lowering his head with a groan.

  “Is she always like that?” Elaine tried to give a light air to her words, but they trembled too much for her to disguise how much the experience had affected her.

  Adam turned, his back against the wall beside the door, and shook his head. “Not always. Sometimes, she’s worse.”

  Worn out from the encounter, Elaine took his lack of proper posture as permission to lean back against the couch and cover her face with her hands. “And the other members of your family?”

  “Exactly like her. Except Philippa. I rather think my youngest sister must be a foundling, given how unlike the rest of us she is.”

  “You are not like your family,” Elaine said without thought. Then she bit her tongue. She nearly forgot her attempt to be more formal, less friendly. Given that they had been allies for the last quarter of an hour, she might excuse herself that lapse, she supposed.

  “I am like them,” he admitted, so softly she barely made out his words. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “I can be just as cruel, Miss Chapple, and as conniving. Especially in these last several years. Of late, however, I find myself wishing to recant the life of a miserable, arrogant blackguard.” His smile appeared, but his light-hearted banter did nothing to remove the pain in his eyes.

  Did he truly think so little of himself? Elaine had only seen his kindness, his willingness to help, even though he owed her nothing. They were hardly more than strangers, yet he devoted hours of each day to attending to her needs, working with her steward, assuaging her fears. He seemed more like his late-uncle than the sister who had left Elaine quaking with no more than a sour disposition.

  If possible, she hoped to help Adam see all the good he had done.

  “She is going to write to my mother,” Adam said, unaware of Elaine’s thoughts. “They will form a new plan of attack.”

  Elaine nodded, and a stray thought took hold of her tongue. “Did all of you really expect me to be an old woman?” What a dreadful shock for him that first day when he met with someone near his own age.

  Adam’s chuckle surprised her. “I expected an old crone, gray-haired, with spectacles and a mob cap forever upon her head.”

  “What a disappointing sight I must have been,” she murmured, the humor of their first meeting coming back to her, with a cat racing across the drive.

  With a quick shake of his head, Adam turned more sober. “Quite the opposite, Miss Chapple. No meeting has ever pleased me more than the one between us. Your lovely red hair is a far more fetching sight than a mob cap.”

  A blush spread into her cheeks and her mouth fell open, though she could think of nothing to say to that compliment. Her hair had forever been a source of trouble for her, and she had worn a mob cap every day of her life as a seamstress, in order to appear more mature than she was, matronly and respectable. Hiding her brightly colored hair proved an added inducement to wear the plain white head covering.

  He spoke again before she had recovered from the unexpected flattery. “I suggest we set things in motion for you to win the hearts of your neighbors, Miss Chapple. A picnic for the children, perhaps a sewing circle for the women in the area to come meet you, and I will procure invitations for you to every social occasion I can find.”

  “All most excellent ideas.” Elaine nodded rapidly, likely appearing more l
ike a puppet than a person when bobbing her head in such a manner. “Thank you, Mr. Gillensford.”

  “If you will make your way to the study, I will find Mrs. Mayworth to come and assist us in creating a plan of action.” Then he bowed and disappeared. Mrs. Mayworth would be handy in such a conversation, and an appropriate chaperone.

  Again, Elaine felt gratitude for his understanding and ability to guide her through the most perilous aspects of Society. Yet meeting his atrocious sister, and his conviction that he was no better a person than Georgiana, gave her pause. Adam had never shown any inclination to behave as horribly as that woman, as snobbish or greedily. Could a gentleman be an accomplished enough actor to hide such horrid inclinations for so long?

  Until he gave Elaine reason to be otherwise, she would put aside that concern. He’d proven himself a friend thus far, and she would treat him as one.

  Chapter 11

  After the impromptu planning meeting on Sunday, Adam kept his distance from Elaine. Georgiana’s visit had reminded him more starkly than anything else might of his reasons for helping the enchanting seamstress. They were not the least altruistic. He wanted his share of the inheritance and could only have it by acting as guide, teacher, assistance, whatever it was Elaine needed.

  Even if he wanted to do more for her than strictly necessary, such feelings did not excuse his primary motives of self-preservation.

  This meant Adam came and went from the steward’s office, but he did not seek Elaine out. From his conversations with Graham and Mrs. Mayworth, he knew she was getting on well enough. The Tuesday visit with Mrs. Bartleby and Caroline reportedly went well, with both little girls delighted in one another. The Orford seamstress had begun sending back completed dresses for Nancy, but nothing yet for Elaine.

  “She is sewing for herself,” Mrs. Mayworth told him in confidence, her voice a mere whisper in the foyer. “Miss Chapple is rather insistent that the children have their wardrobes first.” Somehow, the housekeeper managed to sound both pleased and saddened by that statement.