Secret Heiress (4 page)

Either Mr. Kendal remained in ignorance of Aurelia's plotting or was undeterred by it, because he presented himself in Woburn Square on the afternoon after his meeting with Caroline. The ladies were seated in the library, Aurelia reading the Gazette and Caroline her guidebook.

“Mr. Giles Kendal,” announced Briggs. The ladies looked up as he entered. He was again quietly elegant in a brown coat with fawn trousers. His brown hair was combed in the military manner, and he looked to Aurelia exactly as a young gentleman should.

“How do you do, Mr. Kendal?” said Caroline with a smile. “It is so nice to see you again. May I present my cousin, Miss Peakirk?”

“How do you do, Miss Peakirk?” asked Giles. He kissed her hand. Caroline suppressed a grin, for this gesture, out of fashion with the young, was exactly the sort of thing calculated to appeal to Aurelia. Mr. Kendal's diplomatic training showed.

“So pleased, Mr. Kendal,” said Aurelia. “Dear Caroline has told me so much about you. I collect that you are on Lord Walsingham's staff in Vienna. How exciting that must be.”

“Actually, Miss Peakirk, it is rather a quiet spot at this time. Since the War ended, we aides are more likely to be called upon to chaperone the ambassador's daughter than to carry out a diplomatic mission.”

“Your family must be so pleased to have you restored to them,” said Aurelia.

“Aurelia,” said Caroline in a warning tone.

“Indeed, ma'am, I fear that a tiresome invalid is not the most welcome of visitors, even if one is a son of the household.”

“Oh, Mr. Kendal, I cannot believe that your mama was not delighted to have you home. Any mother must be proud to have a son such as you,” she concluded archly.

“Mr. Kendal,” interrupted Caroline, “I have been studying my guidebook most carefully. I should very much like to see the Waterloo Bridge. I understand it is near completion.”

“Yes, the dedication is set for June. If you and Miss Peakirk intend to remain in London, I should be honored to have you as my guests at the ceremony. My leave extends until the end of June.”

“Oh, Mr. Kendal, how very kind of you . . . so delighted . . .” began Aurelia.

“Thank you, Mr. Kendal,” said Caroline. “We would like that.” Her smile indicated her pleasure at the invitation.

“It will be my pleasure, Miss Chessington.” He stood up. “I am afraid I have stayed too long,” he said. He bowed to Aurelia as he said, “Miss Peakirk, your obedient. Miss Chessington, yours.” He turned and left.

Aurelia barely waited until he was out of the room before she spoke.

“Caroline, such a gentleman,” she said, “Such address, such elegance of manner. He stayed no longer than was proper. I certainly hope, my love, that you intend to encourage Mr. Kendal.”

“Cousin Aurelia, if I were to see Mr. Kendal again, that would be lovely. If I were never to see him again, it would be unfortunate, but I am certain I should recover. I most certainly do not intend to seek Mr. Kendal's attention, nor can I. I am tired of having every young man who speaks to me immediately selected for my husband. If you will excuse me, I have some things to attend to.”

After Caroline had left, Aurelia said with a start, “Gracious! I never did find out if he is related to the Kimboroughs!”

When Giles entered his family's house on Grosvenor Street, he found his mother seated in the parlor, reading a letter.

“Did you have a pleasant afternoon, my love?” she asked. “I hope you have not tired yourself.”

“And risk a scolding from you?” he replied teasingly, kissing her on the cheek.

“I wish you did not still look so pale and tired,” said his mother. “I cannot like you racketing about, but then you always were the most stubborn of my children.” She patted the place next to her invitingly. “Come, dearest, and do sit down. It seems we are to have a visitor, which should make your days a little less dull.”

“A visitor?” asked Giles. “Not Cecilia and those noisy brats of hers?”

Ignoring these very improper comments about his sister and her children, his mother said, “Yes, I have had a letter from Lavinia Chedworth. Such an age since I have seen her! You must know that she is bringing out Arabella this Season. She had intended to bring Arabella to town this month to have fittings for her gowns, but one of the younger children has contracted measles and Lavinia feels she cannot leave at this time. As Arabella is my goddaughter, Lavinia has asked me if Arabella might stay with us until she can come to London. Naturally, I shall write to her and tell her we would be delighted to have Arabella with us.”

“Arabella,” said Giles. “Wasn't she the one with spots?”

“Well, I must admit that she was not very promising as a child, but Lavinia says she has blossomed into quite a beauty.”

“Depend on it,” said Giles cynically, “if her mother says she's a beauty, she probably still has spots.”

“Dearest, how unkind of you! In any event, I shall rely on you to help put Arabella at her ease. So nice to have a son in the Diplomatic!”

“I do believe you're trying to flatter me, Mama,” said Giles. “You have my word that I shall be kind to your guest, even if she has spots and squints.”

“No, dearest, I believe it was the next daughter, Maria, who squinted. But I daresay she will improve as well.”

Giles, stifling a grin, kissed his mother again and announced that he was going to his room to rest before dinner.

“An excellent idea, Giles,” said his mother, already preoccupied with plans for Miss Chedworth's entertainment.

Giles, escaping to his bedroom, allowed himself a chuckle at his mother's conversation. He dismissed his man and stretched out on the bed. His thoughts were not of the approaching visit of his mother's goddaughter, but of his afternoon visit to Woburn Square. He suspected that the elderly cousin had been trying to discover who he was; she might even have an idea that his father was the Earl of Kimborough. Miss Chessington, however, had shown no interest in his family; in fact, she had changed the subject when her cousin had probed too closely. Giles wondered about Caroline Chessington. He was unaccustomed to such a lack of interest in his pedigree. She did not at all seem to be on the catch for a husband, which was unusual enough to be refreshing. Her lively wit was a welcome change from the tiresome cosseting which was the invalid's lot, and her lack of flirtatiousness made her comfortable to be with.

He wondered, too, about her background. She lived in a quiet area where the ton would not be found, but Woburn Square was an acceptable address. Her dress was simple, but Giles knew from experience that there was nothing to be faulted in either the cut or the fabric of her gown. She had an air of breeding and of one accustomed to being attended to. She was unacquainted with London, which meant that she had not been there for her come-out, and Giles could not

recall mention of the Chessington name in Society. He was still trying to puzzle out Miss Chessington's history when he fell asleep.

Arabella arrived in Grosvenor Street two weeks after her mother's letter had reached Lady Kimborough. She was accompanied by her maid and two outriders, as her mama was fearful of permitting a delicately nurtured young female to make such a lengthy journey unattended. When Giles arrived home mat afternoon, he found the front hall full of bandboxes and baggage. He went into the parlor and found his mother entertaining a veritable beauty. Arabella had certainly outgrown her spots and had developed into a young woman of uncommon good looks. Her blond curls, peeking out from under a fetching blue poke bonnet, perfectly framed her heart-shaped face. She was dressed in a charmingly simple white-and-blue dress, topped by a blue pelisse. She turned as Giles entered the room and he had a vision of large, sparkling blue eyes and a dimple on a complexion of pink and white.

“Giles, my love,” said his mother in a mildly reproving voice. Giles realized that he must be staring. “You do remember my dear goddaughter, Arabella Chedworth? I daresay you have not seen her since she was in the schoolroom.”

“No, indeed, ma'am, I have not, and it is my misfortune,” replied Giles, smiling at Arabella. She blushed prettily.

“It is so kind of your dear mama to have me,” she said. “Poor Mama was so distracted. Not only did Maria contract measles, but John and Lydia too. Papa was most displeased. Fortunately, I had had them when I was a child. I did not want to leave Mama, but she insisted. I am very happy to be here.”

“And we are delighted to have you, my dear,” said Lady Kimborough. “I think perhaps I shall have you shown to your room. After your fatiguing journey, I am certain you would like to rest before dinner.”

“Yes, please,” said Arabella. “I am quite tired.”

Lady Kimborough rang the servants' bell and Hayle, the butler, appeared.

“My lady?” he said.

“Hayle, please have Miss Chedworth shown to her chamber,” said Lady Kimborough.

“Yes, my lady,” he replied. “This way, miss,” he said to Arabella.

Arabella kissed her godmother and smiled at Giles.

“Have a pleasant rest, my dear,” said Lady Kimborough.

“Oh, I know I shall,” said Arabella.

“Perhaps tomorrow I can take you for a ride in the carriage to show you London,” said Giles.

“Oh, that would be lovely,” said Arabella, blushing again. She followed Hayle out of the room.

“What a delightful child!” said Lady Kimborough when Arabella had gone.

“She is a beauty,” replied Giles. “I predict she will become all the rage. I have not seen a lovelier face in many a Season.”

Lady Kimborough peered sharply at her son. She had long felt it time for him to marry; as a younger son without an independent fortune, he would have to marry money. Arabella's fortune was comfortable; while she was not an heiress, she would be considered more than eligible. Lady Kimborough had never before considered her son and her goddaughter, because Arabella had been a child and Giles's taste had never run to young girls just out of the schoolroom. But if he should be taken by her. . . . No doubt Lavinia Chedworth had designs on a title for her lovely daughter, but Lavinia was good-natured. If her daughter wished to marry the younger son of an earl, she would not forbid it. . . . Lady Kimborough ended her musings.

“How nice of you to offer to escort Arabella in your carnage, dear,” she said. “However, you must remember that she is not yet out, and it would not do to have her appear coming or fast. I think, however, that if you would offer to escort her when she goes shopping with her maid, that would be unexceptionable.”

“Go shopping!” exclaimed Giles. “You cannot be serious. Surely, as she is your goddaughter, I can take her in the carriage for a ride in the Park without exciting comment.”

“Nevertheless, Giles,” said Lady Kimborough, “great care must be taken. We have a responsibility to the Chedworths, and I will not have tongues wagging while Arabella is under my protection.”

“Have no fear, Mama,” answered Giles, kissing his mother's cheek. “I shall be on my best behavior.”

Caroline had not abandoned her plans for improving the agricultural methods at Brampton, and she decided to visit Stokes to discuss some of the business arrangements. Ordinarily she would have requested that Stokes call on her in Woburn Square, but she did not care to have Aurelia question her about her plans. She waited until Aurelia had retired to her room for her nap one afternoon and then, dressed in a sober gray walking dress and spencer, set out for Stokes's office in the City.

When Caroline entered the office the clerk stared in surprise. Well-bred females, in his experience, did not visit a man of business. She told him, in her cool voice, that Miss Chessington wished to see Mr. Stokes. He mumbled an inarticulate “Yes, ma'am,” and disappeared behind a door. He very well knew that Miss Chessington was one of his employer's favored clients. In a few moments, the door opened and Mr. Stokes came out.

“My dear Miss Chessington,” he exclaimed. “I would have been most happy to call on you. It was certainly not necessary for you to trouble yourself by coming to my office.”

“Indeed, it was no trouble, Mr. Stokes,” replied Caroline.

“Please come into my private office,” said Mr. Stokes. He ushered her into the room. As he closed the door he said to the clerk, “I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“I did not like to say this in front of the staff, Miss Chessington,” he continued as he sat down behind his desk, “and I hope you will not take it amiss, but you are unfamiliar with London ways. It would be better in the future if you requested me to call on you.”

“I am not a schoolgirl, Mr. Stokes. I am accustomed to being in charge of my own affairs. However,” she said with a smile, “if it makes you feel better I will tell you that I had a special reason for calling on you in your office. But first I must thank you for your excellent choice of the house in Woburn Square. It is most comfortable and the servants are taking very good care of us.”

“It is good of you to say so, Miss Chessington,” said Mr. Stokes. “I am pleased that it is to your liking. Are you enjoying your stay in London?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Stokes,” said Caroline. “I am finding there is so much to see. I have been to the British Museum, and St. Paul's and even the Palace. London is a fascinating city. But it is not of London that I wish to speak.”

“How may I serve you, Miss Chessington?”

“As you know, I have long been concerned with improving Brampton. I have read Tull's Horse Hoeing Husbandry, Horn's Gentleman Farmer, and Weston's New System of Agriculture, and I wish to introduce some of their methods. I should like to discuss with you financial arrangements for draining and enclosing several acres.”

“But my dear Miss Chessington!” exclaimed Stokes, slightly stunned. “Surely your steward is the proper person to attend to such matters! There is no need to trouble yourself.”

“My steward is an excellent man, but somewhat old-fashioned. He has a melancholy way of staring at his hands and clucking his disapproval at my newfangled notions whenever I approach him about improvements. As he has been at Brampton since before I was born and is most sincerely attached to my interests, I could never consider pensioning him off. Therefore, I have decided to broach the matter myself.”

“But you cannot have made a study of these matters! I am not an agricultural man myself, but I know they are quite complicated.”

“As I said, I have been reading quite a bit,” said Caroline, “although there is much that I do not understand. I have written to Mr. Coke of Norfolk and to Mr. Young, who are most intrigued to find a female with an interest in agriculture. They have supplied me with a great deal of very useful information and I begin to see how much there is to be done at Brampton.”

“You are a most unusual female, Miss Chessington, if I may say so.”

“Well, you know, Mr. Stokes, I have been virtually on my own for a long while now. What a dull life I would lead if I sat home all day doing needlework!”

“Exactly how much money do you think will be required. Miss Chessington?” asked Mr. Stokes somewhat apprehensively.

“I have made a list of the items which I think would be helpful at Brampton.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here it is,” she said as she handed it to him. “You will see that I have estimated approximately how much each item will cost. The total sum is at the bottom.”

Mr. Stokes put on his glasses. “Hmm,” he said, as he scanned the list. “That's quite a sum. Quite a sum indeed.”

“But I do have it?” questioned Caroline.

“Oh, indeed,” said Mr. Stokes. “You have it and to spare. But I cannot advise you to spend such a sum on newfangled techniques which next year someone will decide are not nearly as good as those which are tried and true!”

“As you say, Mr. Stokes, you are not an agricultural man. I am certain that if you were to come to Brampton, you would see the need for these measures. I do not believe things have changed since my grandfather's time! Please consider the best way to arrange matters so as to be most advantageous to the estate.” She stood up and held out her hand.

“Come, Mr. Stokes, we are old friends, after all. You have advised me wisely and well. You know I would not foolishly jeopardize my fortune. I am certain I can count on you to prevent that.” She smiled.

Mr. Stokes thawed. “I am not saying that I approve of this plan, Miss Chessington,” he said, “but you have always commanded my respect.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stokes,” said Caroline graciously. “I shall expect to hear from you.”

“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Stokes. “It may take some time, however, to work out the details. I will call on you then.”

“That will be fine,” said Caroline as she preceded Stokes into the anteroom. “I shall look forward to hearing from you.” As she turned to leave, she noticed a man seated.

“Mr. Bradford!” exclaimed Mr. Stokes. “I was not expecting you today.” There was a slight note of dismay in his voice.

“But it seems, Mr. Stokes, that I chose the perfect day on which to make my visit.” He smiled at Caroline as he came forward. “It is indeed a rare thing to see such loveliness in this part of town. Surely you will introduce me.”

Mr. Stokes could scarcely refuse the introduction, although it was clearly not to his liking.

“Miss Chessington,” he said reluctantly, “may I present Adrian Bradford? Mr. Bradford is also a client.”

Caroline held out her hand. “How do you do?” she asked. “It is very nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure. Miss Chessington, is all mine.”

“And now I am afraid I must be going,” said Caroline.

“May I have the honor of seeing you to your carriage, Miss Chessington?”

Mr. Stokes coughed slightly.

“I believe Mr. Stokes is waiting to see you,” said Caroline. “I do not wish to keep you.” She smiled at the two men and swept out the door.

“What a delightful female!” said Adrian Bradford.

“Please come into my office, Mr. Bradford,” said Stokes, disapproval registering in his voice.

When they were seated, Mr. Bradford said to Stokes, “Come, tell me about that intriguing female. Who is she? If she came alone, she must be wealthy. We're old friends; you can tell me.”

“You should know, Mr. Bradford, that I would never discuss one client with another. It would violate my professional responsibilities.”

“Still the pompous stuffed shirt I remember from my childhood,” said Mr. Bradford. “Come, come, Stokes,” he wheedled. “You know I need to marry an heiress. Perhaps your Miss Chessington is just what I've been looking for.”

“Mr. Bradford, my sincere attachment to your honored parents and my family's long association with yours, prevent me from stating my feelings. However, I must tell you that the course which you are pursuing is disastrous. If you do not cease the spending of money which you do not have, you shall be ruined. It is as simple as that.”

“That,” said Adrian Bradford patiently, “is why I have to marry an heiress. If you are so attached to my interests, you should be helping me to meet one instead of prosing on about things over which I have no control.”

Mr. Stokes's eyes started out of their sockets.

“Mr. Bradford!” he exclaimed. “I cannot believe what I am hearing. If your late parents could hear you . . .” He wrung his hands.

“If my father had not left those provisions in his will denying me access to my fortune for another five years, I would not be facing ruin now!” interrupted Adrian. He stood up. “If I had known you were going to give me a lecture, I wouldn't have come.” He turned and strode out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

“Indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Stokes. “Indeed! That the Bradfords—such an old and distinguished family—should come to this.” He shook his head. “I never thought I would see this day.”

By the tune he had reached the street, Adrian's anger had dissipated. His temper was erratic, but he found anger difficult to sustain and he never held a grudge. He tried to think of how he could turn the meeting with Miss Chessington to good account. The first thing was to find out more about her. Single young women of his acquaintance did not frequent the business offices of the City. Only one in charge of her own affairs would make such a visit. Only one secure in her position would risk the disapprobation of Society. What but a great fortune could give her this security? Neither a great name nor great beauty explained it. No, he must find out more about her, and the place to start was Stokes's office.

As Adrian thought, he slowly mounted the stairs to Stokes's office again. He opened the door slightly and looked inside. Stokes's door was closed and he appeared to be talking with that fuss-budget assistant of his. Only the clerk was in the outer office. Before going inside, Adrian removed his gloves and put them inside his jacket. He then went inside. The clerk looked up as he entered.

“Crippen, I seem to have misplaced my gloves. Have you seen them?”

“No, sir, I can't say as I have,” replied the clerk.

“How very annoying,” said Adrian. “I can scarcely go to Lady Effington's without my gloves.”

“No, sir,” said the clerk.

“By the by,” said Adrian, approaching the clerk, “a fine-looking woman, Miss Chessington. I would really like to know more about her.”

“I can't tell you anything about her, sir,” said Crippen. “It would be worth my job.” He looked expectant.

Adrian held out a sovereign and slipped it into the clerk's palm. “Can you tell me about her now?”

Crippen looked at the gold coin in his hand and carefully shifted it to his pocket. “Miss Chessington,” he said woodenly, “is an heiress. From Lancashire, she is. Worth a ransom, but she don't want anyone to know that she's so plump in the pocket.”

“Whyever not?” exclaimed Adrian. “If I had a fortune, I'd certainly let everyone know!”

Crippen held out his hand. Adrian looked at it and slipped another coin into it

“I overheard Old Stokesy telling Potts that she wants to be liked for herself and not for her money,” continued Crippen as he transferred the new coin to his pocket. “Myself, I can't say I see it.”

Adrian was much in sympathy with this sentiment. “Know where she lives, Crippen?” he asked.

Crippen was silent as he looked at Adrian. Adrian, exasperated, pulled out a third coin and handed it to Crippen.

“No, sir, I'm afraid I don't,” he said as he slipped the coin into his bulging pocket.

Adrian looked at him in amazement. “Why, you thief!” he exclaimed. He stormed out of the office, slamming the door a second time. The noise brought Mr. Stokes and his assistant to the door.

“What's going on here, Crippen?” asked Stokes sternly.

“Nuthin', sir.”

“Who was at the door then?”

“Just Mr. Bradford looking for his gloves, sir. He's right excitable. When I didn't have them, he slammed the door.”

“All right then, Crippen, back to work. There's much to be done.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Crippen. As Stokes and Potts went back into the office, Crippen patted his pocket complacently.

Adrian's anger lasted a little longer this time, but he had to smile wryly at the way he'd been outmaneuvered. His mind shifted quickly to the more pressing problem of meeting Miss Chessington. Damn it, he didn't even know her first name. If she were an heiress—and if that dratted clerk were telling the truth!—she should be seen riding in the Park or at some of the ton parties. It was still before the Season, but some early-comers to town had already begun the rounds of parties and routs. He'd have to start going again to those boring affairs, toadeating dowagers and flattering matrons. And that required a wardrobe, for it was fatal to look as if one were worried about money. His tailor was becoming more insistent about being paid. If he didn't meet an heiress soon and bring her to the altar, he'd have to leave the country. He was desperate.