The Unknown Heir. Anne Herries

      Hester closed her eyes, determined to put it all from her mind. Lying here worrying would not help her. She would spend the morning with the American heir. If he continued with his masquerade, she would ask him why he was trying to deceive her.

      

      Hester was ready and waiting when Jared arrived the next morning. She noticed that he had abandoned the ill-fitting clothes he had been wearing the previous day. His coat was a little shabby, but she could not doubt that it had been tailored by an expert; his boots were old, but discernibly of good quality, and his breeches fitted him well. His shoulders were broad, his body lean and strong looking, his face attractive rather than handsome. She decided that her godmother had been right—he would pay for dressing.

      ‘Well, sir, are you ready to be fitted for the outfits you will need if you are to be introduced into society?’ Her eyes challenged him, meeting his so boldly that he was momentarily startled. He could almost think that she had seen through his disguise—and yet how could she?

      ‘I am not sure that I can afford to patronise the best tailors,’ he prevaricated, knowing that he might be recognised at some of them.

      ‘You must have good hats and boots,’ Hester said. ‘Besides, Grandfather has opened an account for you at his bank. You may spend what you wish within reason. He will make you an allowance for other things once you have settled on a proper sum between you, but you must have a decent wardrobe.’

      ‘Must I?’ Jared’s eyebrows rose. What he had learned from Tyler the previous evening had put him on his mettle. If the man were to be believed, his life was in danger, and that meant he could trust no one—perhaps even this woman might be other than she seemed. ‘Well, I do need a decent hat, so perhaps we should visit the haberdasher you mentioned.’

      ‘Lock’s are not merely haberdashers,’ Hester reprimanded him with a sparkling look. ‘They are the hat makers, Mr Clinton. No one who is anyone would dream of going anywhere else.’

      ‘Indeed?’ A look of mockery came to his eyes. ‘I have plenty of good hats at home that did not come from that particular establishment.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Hester looked at the battered example he had taken off as they met. ‘If that is so, one wonders why you did not bring them with you?’

      ‘Ah…’ Jared smothered a laugh. She had him there. He had spoken too hastily. ‘Perhaps I should say that I had plenty of hats once.’

      ‘You were once in the position of being able to live decently, I believe?’ Hester said. ‘Mr Birch gave us only sketchy details, Mr Clinton—but we have been told that you lost everything gambling?’

      ‘Yes, most of what I had,’ Jared agreed, keeping a bland expression as he lied. ‘I still have a small property back home.’

      ‘Yes, well, Grandfather isn’t rich either,’ Hester told him. ‘He has some property and the land. Unfortunately, his sons and grandsons were mostly gamblers, including my father.’

      ‘Do you think it right that I should take the duke’s money for clothes?’ Jared asked, his expression giving nothing away. ‘No point in pretending to be what I ain’t—is there?’

      ‘I am not at liberty to confide my grandfather’s plans for you,’ Hester said with a frown. ‘I do know that you must be presentable if you are to succeed in the best circles in English society.’

      ‘I’m not sure I wish to succeed. In fact, I wasn’t planning to stay around long enough to meet your society friends, Miss Sheldon.’

      ‘Oh but you must,’ Hester cried. ‘If you don’t…Grandfather is relying on you, sir. Surely you want your inheritance? It is not as much as it might have been, but it is still considerable and it might—’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t for me to say.’

      ‘But you are privy to his plans, aren’t you?’

      Hester felt her cheeks becoming warm under his scrutiny. ‘It would be quite wrong of me to disclose anything he may have told me.’

      Jared sat down, crossing his long legs in front of him. He gave her a direct look. ‘I have plenty of time, Miss Sheldon.’

      ‘Really, we must go. I have taken the liberty of making an appointment for you to be fitted. It would be most rude of us to be late.’

      ‘I don’t think I should go anywhere until you tell me exactly what the old man is expecting of me.’

      Hester looked at his stubborn face and sighed inwardly. If she had harboured any doubts that he was truly the heir, they fled. She had seen that look in her stepfather’s eyes, and often in the duke himself.

      ‘It is Grandfather’s hope that you will marry to advantage. The family needs new money to restore it to its proper place in society.’

      ‘Damn the old devil!’ Jared’s eyes gleamed with sudden anger. ‘So that is why he summoned me and dragged you into this business! He wants me to marry an heiress.’

      ‘Well, yes, I suppose that is what he wants—what the family needs,’ Hester said reluctantly. ‘You weren’t brought up here and so you may not understand what your heritage means, but it is respect and family values—’ She stopped as she saw his expression. ‘What? Why are you so angry? It is no more than happens in many families of this kind.’

      ‘Family values?’ Jared said in an icy tone. ‘Where were they when he cut my mother out of his life? She wrote to him when I was born and afterwards. Her letters were never answered—can you imagine how much that hurt her? Do not preach to me about the family, Miss Sheldon. As far as I am concerned, I have no family—at least none in this country.’

      Hester stared at him, her face pale. ‘Then why did you come? Why did you raise our hopes? If you had no intention of helping us restore the family fortunes, why not simply tell Birch that you wished to cut the connection?’

      Jared got up. He had been wondering about that himself for the past several minutes. He went over to the window, staring out at the garden, his back rigid with anger as he considered his answer.

      ‘Curiosity, I suppose. I wondered what kind of a man could cut his daughter out of his life simply because she ran away with the man she loved.’

      ‘Grandfather loved her,’ Hester said, and there was a little sob in her voice, because she knew how badly the duke would take this disappointment. ‘I suppose his pride wouldn’t let him answer her letters, but I know he still loves her.’

      ‘Sure of that, are you?’ Jared rounded on her, his eyes dark with anger, his mouth set in a thin line. ‘What makes you such an expert? She certainly didn’t know it, if you do.’

      ‘Grandfather is proud,’ Hester defended him, her face pale, her eyes carrying an unconscious appeal. ‘Sometimes he says and does things that he doesn’t mean—but that does not make him a bad man. He has always been loving and generous to me…’ A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, trickling down her cheek. She tasted its salt, but she made no attempt to brush it away or the others that silently followed. ‘He is an old man, Mr Clinton. He doesn’t have long to live. Please, I beg you, won’t you at least humour him for a while? No one can force you to marry an heiress, but if you would just let Grandfather believe there is hope…for a while…’

      Jared was standing over her now, his eyes blazing. He was furious that she could ask such a thing of him. What right had she or any of them to ask anything of him? She had none and he was determined to punish her, to punish them all for what they had done to his mother. Hardly knowing what he did, not thinking at all, he reached out, gripping her by her arms, gazing down at her. He pulled her to her feet. Looking into her eyes, he felt something stir inside him, and, without understanding why, he lowered his head, his mouth touching hers.

      He hadn’t meant to kiss her, had not realised how it would feel when he did, the fire that shot through him so unexpected that he reacted instinctively. His mouth possessed