The Unknown Heir. Anne Herries

Her pulses were racing, which was foolish because she was always in complete control of herself when in company. To lose her composure now would be ridiculous. ‘I must welcome you to London, sir. The duke is looking forward to meeting you and presenting you to his friends as the heir. I dare say Mr Birch has told you that an account has been set up for you here in town. You might wish to purchase a few clothes—the kind of thing you would be expected to wear in society. If you should wish for it, I shall be delighted to help you purchase your new wardrobe.’

      ‘Well, I reckon that’s right nice of you, ma’am,’ Jared said, a glint in his eyes. She was standing in sunlight and he could not see her face clearly, but she was dressed well. He had been prepared to treat gently the elderly lady he imagined had been dragged from her bathchair to rescue him, but what was he supposed to learn from a girl like this? ‘But I wouldn’t want to be a trouble to you, dragging you all over town—unless you can put up with a hillbilly like me? I ain’t never been to London before and I cain’t wait to see the sights. Red is just going to hog my ear when I get back, wanting to know everything I seen in this little old town.’

      ‘It would be my pleasure to accompany you—at least to those places where a lady is permitted to visit. I am not sure whether we could find someone who would put you up for a decent club, but after Grandfather has seen you, I dare say he will ask one of his friends to do the necessary.’

      ‘Hog damn, if that ain’t right decent of you, cousin.’

      ‘One thing,’ Hester said, frowning slightly. ‘That phrase you just used would not be accepted in polite circles. If you wish to be accepted by the best people, it might be as well to moderate your language, if you can.’

      ‘What phrase would that be, Miss Sheldon?’ Jared asked, his eyes wide and innocent.

      ‘I imagine she meant hog damn,’ Lady Ireland intercepted. ‘Please come and sit down, sir. I have rung for tea.’

      ‘That’s the milky stuff they keep sending me at the hotel,’ Jared said. ‘If you don’t mind, ma’am, I would rather not. Coffee, if you please, or something stronger.’

      ‘Madeira, then,’ Lady Ireland replied promptly. ‘You may not know the wine, sir, but I assure you it is much drunk by gentlemen of taste.’

      Jared thought of his well-stocked wine cellar at home, which held some of the finest wines from France and other countries, but held the biting retort back, knowing that he had invited this kind of thing by pretending to be something he was not.

      ‘You are too kind, ma’am. I was thinking maybe I’d try some of your cute English ale, but this…what did you call it—Madeira?—that will do just fine.’

      He became aware that his cousin was staring at him. She had walked out of the sunshine now and he was able to see her face properly for the first time. He realised that she was not quite as young as he had thought her—perhaps twenty-four or-five, but as yet unmarried, for her finger was ringless. He wondered why, because she was not unattractive. Not pretty, but pleasant to look at, he thought, her hair a soft brown and her eyes what some people called hazel.

      ‘Will you not sit down, sir?’ Lady Ireland inquired as Hester took a seat on the small sofa. ‘How do you like what you’ve seen of England so far?’

      ‘It rains a lot,’ Jared answered, deliberately obtuse. ‘I cain’t say as I’ve been far as yet, ma’am, but what I’ve seen is kind of cute.’ He winced at his own drawl and wondered what his mother would say if she could hear him. He sounded like one of the uneducated young men who came to his cousin’s estate looking for work from time to time.

      ‘Cute? I dare say that is meant to be a compliment,’ Lady Ireland said, looking down her long nose at him. ‘I think what you meant to say is that you haven’t had time to see a great deal, but you like what you have seen so far.’

      ‘Yes, ma’am, you could say that,’ Jared replied. He got to his feet instantly as a young maid came in carrying a heavy tray. ‘May I help you with that, miss?’

      ‘Oh, sir, my lord…’ The girl looked flustered as she set the tray on the stand beside her mistress. ‘So kind…’ She met his gaze and blushed, a little smile on her lips as she hurried from the room, clearly embarrassed by his attentions.

      ‘You do not need to stand up for a servant,’ Lady Ireland told him. ‘And you do not offer to help her with her work. I dare say you are not aware of it, Lord Sheldon, but it isn’t done in polite society.’

      ‘Where I come from, a gentleman always stands for a lady,’ Jared replied without thinking. ‘And that tray looked heavy. At home my father would have expected his son to help if the tray was too heavy for a servant. He believed in equality for all.’

      ‘You are in England now…’

      ‘I don’t think it matters,’ Hester said, because she had seen the flash of anger in the heir’s eyes. She was rather pleased that he had shown himself to have good manners, even if his politeness was misplaced. ‘Mr Clinton erred on the right side, Godmother.’

      ‘Well, yes, I suppose he did,’ Lady Ireland agreed, looking at her in surprise. ‘I was merely trying to help. I should not like you to suffer a severe set-down, sir. You will find that many society hostesses would give you the cut direct if you used some of the words you have here today—and they will snigger behind their fans if you jump to your feet every time a maid brings in a tray.’

      ‘They may do as they please, ma’am,’ Jared replied, a note of steel in his voice. ‘A lady is a lady where I come from—and that little girl was struggling with that tray.’

      ‘As it happens, I agree with you. She should never have attempted it. I shall have a word with my butler. He ought to have come himself or sent two maids. Madeira, sir? I believe you will find it agreeable. Please help yourself from the decanter. Mr Birch, will you have tea or join his lordship in a glass of Madeira?’

      ‘If I may, I should enjoy a glass of wine,’ the lawyer said. He had been standing silently, watching the American heir with a puzzled frown. He had noticed it once or twice before—that unpleasant twang disappeared when the viscount was roused to anger or passion. Could it possibly be assumed? But why would he do that? Surely he would wish to make a good impression on his English relatives? Unless…Mr Birch decided that the viscount would bear further investigation. It might just be that the American had been having a joke at his expense. Oh, dear, how very embarrassing that would be: the duke did not suffer fools gladly!

      ‘Yes, of course,’ Lady Ireland said, smiling at him. ‘Do please sit down, sir. I had forgotten you for a moment, but you are welcome to join us. Hester, my dear, you would like tea, of course?’

      ‘Yes, Godmother,’ Hester replied, a slight smile on her lips. The heir had spirit, she thought with satisfaction. He might wear dreadful clothes and come out with some very strange phrases, but all in all, he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the lawyer had painted him. ‘I shall join you in a cup of tea.’ She refrained from saying that she often shared a glass of Madeira with her grandfather when they were alone.

      She was about to get up to receive her cup from her godmother, but Mr Clinton anticipated her. He was already on his feet, pouring the wine for Mr Birch and himself, but he left his own glass standing to pass her the tea. She noticed that he lifted his coat tails when he sat down, and the way he held his glass—and she noticed that his nails were short and very clean.

      Something wasn’t quite right here, Hester thought. Mr Birch had spoken of the heir as being ill mannered, badly educated and uncouth—but that did not describe the man now sitting on her godmother’s chair. He had chosen a substantial, square-seated, Chippendale elbow chair, which was one of the few up to his weight, and he looked very much at home. She had also noticed that his accent was missing when he asked the maid if he might help her. Why?

      Why would he possibly be pretending to be something he wasn’t? Hester’s curiosity was aroused. If he had been an ill-educated man pretending to be a gentleman, she would have assumed