The Unknown Heir. Anne Herries

of light was to be seen streaming into the street. It was, she supposed, one of the fashionable gaming houses that gentlemen liked to frequent. At that moment a gentleman was on the point of leaving, standing for a second or two in the full light of lanterns and a torch one of the links boys was holding aloft. She saw his face clearly, and noted the fact that he was fashionably dressed before the carriage swept by. ‘Was that—?’ She broke off as her godmother turned to her inquiringly. ‘Did you see that gentleman just now?’

      ‘Which particular gentleman?’ Lady Ireland asked. ‘We passed a rather noisy group of them a moment ago. Coming, I dare say, from that club we passed just now.’

      ‘I thought it was Mr Clinton,’ Hester said and frowned. ‘It was a little odd.’

      ‘He does look a little odd,’ Lady Ireland admitted. ‘But, as I said earlier, once you take him in hand he will do, Hester. I imagine he will pay for dressing.’

      ‘Yes,’ Hester agreed. She decided against telling her godmother that the man she had just seen needed no help from her. If it had been the heir—and she had seen him so briefly that she could not be certain—it meant that he was playing a deep game, as she had suspected. Was there something sinister about him? A shiver ran down her spine as she thought about the various accidents that had happened to the Sheldon family over the past few years. Supposing they were not accidents, but deliberate acts to bring about the situation that now existed? Could the American heir have been behind some of the accidents that had befallen her family?

      Jared left the Carrick Club and began to walk in the direction of a hackney cab that had drawn up a short distance from the club. It was a pleasant night, the sky lit by a sprinkling of stars, and he might have been inclined to walk had he been certain of his way. As he was not well acquainted with this part of town, he thought it might be best to take advantage of the cabs that waited for paying passengers. His head was clear for he had drunk no more than a glass or two of wine, and he had spent an enjoyable few hours playing piquet for a few hundred guineas with some gentlemen he had met at the club, winning just slightly more than he lost. He was deep in thought, undecided whether to go on with his masquerade the next day, and it was only an ingrained instinct that warned him at the last moment.

      Turning suddenly, he found himself confronted by a burly rogue armed with a stout cudgel. The man’s arm was raised, as if he had been about to strike from behind. Jared acted to save himself, flinging himself at the rogue and catching his arm in a powerful grip that caused the other man to cry out in pain. Seconds later, the rogue found himself suddenly twisted off his feet and thrown head over heels, landing on his back on the hard pavement. He stared up at Jared, a dazed expression on his face as he struggled to understand what had happened to him.

      ‘What did yer do that fer?’ he asked in an aggrieved tone. ‘I weren’t doin’ no ’arm.’

      ‘I suppose you were not about to crack me over the head in the hope of stealing my purse?’

      ‘Fair go,’ the man whined as he struggled to his feet. ‘I were only tryin’ to earn an honest crust, me lord.’

      ‘I do not think the watch would consider assault and robbery an honest way to earn your living, rogue.’ Jared’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. He had pulled a small pistol from his greatcoat pocket and held it cocked and ready. ‘Or perhaps it wasn’t money you were after?’

      ‘He said I could keep whatever I found in your pockets,’ the man stated, eyeing Jared’s pistol nervously. ‘You ain’t goin’ ter shoot me, are yer?’

      ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,’ Jared said coldly. ‘If you try to escape custody, I would be well within my rights to shoot you in the leg. Such wounds turn bad in prison and you might die there, alone and untended.’

      ‘I might be of use to yer, me lord,’ the man said, beads of sweat on his brow as he looked into Jared’s eyes, because he didn’t doubt that he would shoot if provoked. ‘I could tell yer somethin’ that might save yer life.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Jared’s brows arched. ‘Why should I believe anything you say?’

      ‘It weren’t yer purse he wanted,’ the man said with a crafty leer. ‘He wants yer dead, me lord.’

      ‘Who wants me dead?’

      ‘I don’t rightly know his name, sir—but I could tell yer where he lives when he’s in town. He thought ’e had me fooled, but Harris Tyler knows a thing or two about fooling hisself.’

      ‘You are saying that someone paid you to crack me over the head?’

      ‘That be the truth of it, me lord. He said he didn’t care how I did it, but I was to kill yer ternight.’

      ‘And how did you know who you were to kill?’ Jared wasn’t sure whether to believe his tale. ‘Where did you meet this man?’

      ‘A gentleman, he were, me lord, just like you. He came looking fer me at the Crown and King in Cheapside; it’s where I hang out, see—and he told me there were twenty guineas in it if I done you in.’

      ‘He gave you my name?’

      ‘No, me lord, just took me to your hotel. We followed you here, sir. He told me to wait until you came out, as you’d likely be two parts to the wind and easy prey.’

      ‘He did, did he?’ Jared frowned. ‘Did he give you your money, rogue?’

      ‘No, sir. He said he would come to the Crown and King termorrow at eight of the evenin’, and give it me then.’

      ‘And yet you know where he lives?’

      ‘I know where he went after he left me ’ere,’ the man said. ‘I followed ’im, see—I like to know things about a cove who offers me money to do murder—but I can’t swear to it that it were ’is house. There were others comin’ and goin’.’

      ‘Possibly a house party,’ Jared said. ‘Well, Tyler, if that is your name. I think you had better take me to the house, and then we’ll see. As you said, it is possible that you might be of use to me, but we should get one thing clear from the start. I may use you, and I may pay you if you serve me well—but I make a bad enemy. I would not advise you to get any ideas about double crossing me.’

      A shudder went down Harris Tyler’s spine as he looked into the icy eyes of his former victim. ‘If I’d known what manner of man yer were, me lord, I wouldn’t ’ave tried nothin’…cross me ’eart and swear to die.’

      Jared smiled. ‘I doubt you have a heart, Tyler—but if you don’t want to die, keep faith with me.’

      ‘It’s me missus and the little ’uns,’ Tyler whined. ‘Sick she’s been and no money for the doctor.’

      ‘And I was born yesterday,’ Jared replied in a pleasant tone that belied the threat beneath. ‘I’m giving you one chance, Tyler—and you can start by telling me anything you can about this man, and by showing me where this house is.’

      ‘Well, sir, I did notice one thing when his head was turned from me, sir. He has a small scar behind his left ear. You can’t see it most of the time, but his hair was tied with a bow, and when he turned his head I saw it for a moment.’

      ‘A scar behind his left ear?’ Jared studied his face. Was he inventing the scar—had he invented the whole story? For the moment he would go along with it, because there were only a handful of people who knew he was in London. A rogue attacking him in the hope of robbing him was one thing, but a mysterious man who had paid for him to be murdered was quite another.

      Hester sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair. It was thick and reached to the small of her back when she let it loose from the strict confines to which she habitually consigned it. With her hair loosely waving, and in the soft light of the candles, Hester looked younger than she was, a wistful expression in her eyes as she stared unseeingly at her reflection.

      It was very strange that she had