The Rake and the Heiress. Marguerite Kaye

he had been for the best part of the last twenty years, living on his brother’s estates in Hampshire. Under his careful stewardship the lands of the Earl of Vespian were in excellent heart. Mathew had looked after them as prudently as he would have done had they been his own. In fact, Tobias Acton thought, he had looked after them for so long that he probably thought of them as exactly that—his own.

      And now they were. The lawyer composed his features into those of a man about to deliver ill tidings. ‘I’m afraid, Mr Stamppe, we have received the saddest of news. Your brother Philip is, I must regretfully inform you, deceased. He died some months ago from injuries sustained when he was robbed, I believe in Paris. Please accept my deepest condolences, sir. Or, I should say, Lord Vespian.’

      At last! Mathew struggled to contain the smile that tugged at the corners of his thin mouth. Careful not to show his satisfaction, he shook his head sadly. ‘My dear brother’s passing cannot be said to be a shock, given the way he chose to live, but it is a blow none the less. I shall arrange for the appropriate notices and such, but the main thing is to confirm the legal transfer of the estate to my name. I take it he left his will with you?’

      Tobias Acton shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Well, my lord, as to that, I’m sorry to tell you that things are not quite so straightforward. Lord Vespian—your brother, that is—left us none of his personal papers. As trustees we can obviously act with regards to that part of the estate which is entailed, but as to the unentailed property which, as you know, is not insignificant, we have only this.’

      He solemnly handed Mathew a sealed packet. ‘Our instructions were to give this into your hands in the unfortunate event of his lordship’s death.’

      Mathew took the packet, his rigid countenance giving no sign of the anger rising in his breast at this caprice of Philip’s. Tearing open the seal, he read the contents with impotent fury. Finally, he crumpled the letter into his pocket. ‘It seems, Mr Acton, that I have inherited a niece rather than a fortune. My dear brother has posthumously informed me that he was not only married, but that the union produced a daughter who is his rightful heir. The will and testament supporting this was lodged by Philip with a man named Nick Lytton who, to the best of my knowledge, died ten years since. I can only presume my niece—’ he broke off to consult the letter ‘—the Lady Serena, will stake her claim as soon as she has recovered them from his son.’

      Tobias Acton’s brows rose a notch. ‘A most unexpected development, Lord Vespian. May one enquire as to how you intend to handle this somewhat, ahem, delicate situation?’

      ‘That, Acton, is a question I find myself quite unable to answer at this present moment.’

      

      The next morning, Hughes relieved Serena of her hat and pelisse and informed her that Master Nicholas awaited her in the library, which was situated at the far end of the building. Serena opened the door and stepped into a surprisingly modern room with long windows looking out over a paved terrace. The book cases were mahogany, not the oak prevalent in the rest of the house, as was the large desk behind which Nicholas sat. Above the book cases the walls and ceiling were tempered a soft cream. The hangings were dull gold.

      ‘This is quite lovely,’ Serena said, ‘and so unexpected.’

      Nicholas rose from behind the desk to clasp her hand between his in his customary greeting. ‘A description I could easily apply to you.’

      She felt his intense gaze probe her thoughts, felt the now familiar fluttering that accompanied the touch of his flesh on hers, however slight. They stood thus for what seemed an eternity, the memory of that remarkable, passionate, all-encompassing kiss hanging almost palpably between them.

      A polite cough announced the arrival of Hughes bearing a tray of coffee, which he placed on a small table. Serena poured two cups and handed one to Nicholas before sitting down to sip contentedly on her own. ‘I’ve never learned to make good coffee—this is delicious.’

      Nicholas raised an eyebrow. ‘Not exactly an accomplishment you can have had much call for, surely?’

      ‘On the contrary. There have been times when we were quite down on our luck, Papa and I, unable to afford luxuries such as servants.’

      ‘Not recently, though. No matter how simple the gowns you wear, I’m not deceived—the simpler the design, the costlier the price, is my experience. You’re tricked out in the absolute finest of everything—gowns, shawls, hats, even those little boots of yours are kid, if I’m not mistaken.’

      ‘And what, pray, monsieur, would you know about the cost of a lady’s apparel?’

      ‘As much as you, probably. I’ve certainly paid for enough fripperies over the years, to say nothing of having to cough up for dressmakers and milliners when the lady concerned is a—let us say intimate—acquaintance.’

      ‘You are referring to your mistresses, I take it.’ She was determined not to be shocked, equally determined to ignore the foolish twinge of jealousy. ‘However, my clothes are from Paris, naturellement, which makes them a little above your touch.’

      He remembered her earlier jibe about a protector. What if she had not been joking after all? The idea was distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Au contraire, mademoiselle,’ Nicholas said maliciously, ‘I am well enough heeled to be able to insist that any lady under my protection wears only the very best. And well enough versed in the latest modes to see that your hard times are behind you, if your wardrobe is aught to go by.’

      She gave him a direct look, alerted by the harsh note in his voice. ‘You think a man paid for them?’

      ‘Am I right?’

      He spoke nonchalantly, but Serena was not fooled. ‘Yes.’ She waited, but he said nothing, only looked at her in that way of his that made her feel he was privy to her innermost thoughts. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Nicholas, stop looking so serious. I meant my father.’

      He was unaccountably relieved, but managed not to show it. ‘Well, he must have made you a generous allowance.’ Serena did not deign to reply. ‘Do you still miss him?’ Nicholas asked her after a few moments, his voice gentler now.

      ‘Of course. We were very close. Don’t you miss your parents?’

      ‘The cases are rather different,’ he replied wryly. ‘I saw more of the servants than my parents when I was growing up. Outside school, there were various tutors, but being without siblings I was largely left to go my own way—exactly as my father did in his youth. I had money enough to indulge in all my whims, and when I grew older to support my gaming and fund my amours. My father introduced me to his club and a few of his influential friends when I came of age, and that’s about the sum of it.’

      ‘So you are an only child too. Did you wish for a brother or sister? I know I longed for siblings.’

      ‘I was an only child,’ Nicholas corrected. ‘I’ve got a half-sister now.’

      ‘Yes, but so much younger than you—it’s not the same.’

      ‘She’s about the age Melissa was when my father married her. There’s no fool like an old fool—he was completely infatuated.’

      ‘But Melissa made him happy?’

      ‘He died before he could be disillusioned,’ Nicholas said sardonically, ‘but not, unfortunately for me, before he became obsessed with a desire to reform me.’

      ‘Poor Nicholas.’

      There was just a tinge of mockery in Serena’s voice, but Nicholas could forgive her anything when she smiled at him that way, making him feel she understood him very well. He was becoming accustomed to it.

      ‘I would have thought reforming you a well-nigh impossible undertaking,’ Serena continued teasingly. ‘How on earth did he intend to achieve it?’

      ‘Oh, he had his ways, believe me. He took every opportunity to lecture me about the benefits of marrying a good woman and the wonders of love. All