The Inheritance (16 page)

“I want you to make a boot for me,” Nicholas began.

“Anything in particular you would like, Your Grace?” the bootmaker asked.

“Yes, there is.” The doctor had been forced to amputate
Hepplewhite’s right foot. Nicholas proceeded to explain his idea for a boot that would fit Hepplewhite’s stump and allow the boy to walk again. “Could you make something like that?”

The bootmaker stroked his bearded chin. “I might, Your Grace. Could I see the boy? I’d like to do some measurements on the remaining foot.”

Nicholas had accompanied the bootmaker to Hepplewhite’s room and then had to leave when he saw the tears in Hepplewhite’s eyes as the boy realized that what he hadn’t believed possible might be possible after all. He would walk again.

Nicholas had spent the third day searching the library for papers anyone might have left that would give a clue to his true parentage. He searched through Lord Philip’s papers, which the solicitor had given him, but found nothing that remotely resembled a journal. Lord Philip’s fears and suppositions about his wife had died along with him.

He also spoke with his aunt and got a copy of the list of visitors to the parish she had prepared at the reverend’s behest. He tried questioning her further, but she became so anxious and uncomfortable that he gave up the effort.

It had occurred to him that, as his mother’s sister, Lady Celeste might be privy to the information he sought. It was equally apparent that if his aunt knew anything, she had kept the secret for nearly thirty years. And she certainly hadn’t volunteered any information to him when he had turned up as the newest Duke of Severn. Unless he was willing to use coercion, it was doubtful she would speak. He simply couldn’t see himself browbeating an old, grayhaired
lady for information. He would have to find out the truth some other way.

He had spent yesterday with Daisy in the attic. She had come to him and suggested he might find something there that would give him a lead in his search for the truth. He had been doubtful, but the memory of all those rainy days spent in the crowded, musty-smelling place as a boy had prompted him to agree.

“You seem to know your way around here pretty well,” Nicholas said as Daisy threaded through trunks and stored furniture and rugs to reach a remote part of the attic.

“I’ve been up here before, Your Grace,” Daisy confessed. She reached an open area near a small attic window that let in light. She reached over to unlatch it, and the wind and a mist of rain poured in, as well. “I don’t think we’ll get too wet,” she said. “And the air smells wonderful when it rains, don’t you think?”

Nicholas took a deep breath and had to agree. There was a fecund smell that reminded him of the deep forest, of wet leaves and moss and grass.

“Come over here, Your Grace, and make yourself comfortable.”

Nicholas was surprised when Daisy settled on the bare wooden floor, but he sat down cross-legged beside her. He wondered what everyone would think if they could see the Duke and Dowager Duchess of Severn now. The humor of the situation made him smile.

Next to him stood a wooden rocking horse that he and his cousins had ridden. Its mane of red yarn had thinned from being yanked on and the black painted
saddle and bridle had all but disappeared. He remembered laughter and fights over whose turn it was to ride next.

“I feel like a child again when I’m up here,” Daisy said in a soft voice.

Nicholas reached out and smoothed the wood on the rocking horse. “I must have a hundred memories of rainy days spent in this attic.”

“There’s something here I wanted you to see.” Daisy handed Nicholas a small leather book with a brass clasp.

“What’s this?”

“Tony’s diary,” she said. “I thought you might like to read it.”

“Is there anything—”

She shook her head. “Nothing about your mother. But there are some anecdotes, memories of his childhood, that you might enjoy.”

“Thank you,” Nicholas said.

They went through several of the toy boxes, and Nicholas found a whole army of lead soldiers. He showed off a top he found by spinning it for Daisy.

It had been a long time, Nicholas mused, since he had laughed so much, or had so much fun with a woman when he wasn’t in bed. Daisy was the one who put an end to their idyll. But it was his fault, because he hadn’t been able to resist reaching out to touch her face when she laughed.

There had been a moment when he thought she might remain still for his caress and the kiss that was not far behind it. But she stood abruptly and said in a stilted voice, “I have to discuss some matters with Mrs. Motherwell. You know where everything is now.”

Then she was gone.

He hadn’t stayed much longer. The memories tore at him, making him ache with longing for the past. Life had been good here.

And could be good here again
.

He knew then why Daisy had brought him to the attic. But it wasn’t going to work. He put away the toys and with them the nostalgia that had made him consider, even for a moment, staying in England, at Severn.

That was yesterday. Nicholas wasn’t sure how many more days of being pent up in this house, with all the memories that clambered for recognition, he could take.

“Do you think the rain will stop today, Porter?” Nicholas asked for the fifth time in five days.

“There’s no way to tell, Your Grace,” Porter replied.

After a knock on the door, Colin entered Nicholas’s bedroom. “Do you want to brave the rain and take a ride with me?”

“Don’t tell me you’re headed for Rockland Park in this weather,” Nicholas said.

Colin grinned. “Actually, I am. Lady Roanna has house guests and sent a note asking me to come and help entertain them.”

“Oh? Who’s visiting?”

“Friends from London,” Colin said. “Her uncle, Lord Willowbrook and his wife, and some cousins.”

Nicholas tensed. Lord Willowbrook was one of the London set who had been visiting in the neighborhood, a guest of the Warennes, at the time the accusations had been made against his mother.

“Maybe I will go with you.”

“Your Grace—”

He grinned at his dismayed valet. “I’ll try not to ruin my new boots, Porter.”

“Quite so, Your Grace,” Porter said in resignation.

“I want to check on Hepplewhite before we go,” Nicholas told his son.

“I’ve already been by his room,” Colin said. In fact, he and Douglas Hepplewhite were in a fair way to becoming fast friends.

“How is he?” Nicholas asked.

“As you might expect. Depressed about the loss of his foot, but grateful for the chance to be able to support his family without stealing.”

Nicholas found Douglas sitting up in bed, staring out at the rain. “Good morning, Douglas. How are you feeling today?”

“Better, Your Grace. Ready to be up and about.” He bit his lip as he stared at the leg that ended at the ankle. “Not that I’ll be much use to anybody for a long while to come.”

“We’ll have you up on crutches in no time,” Nicholas said. “And you’ll be amazed how well you can get around once the bootmaker delivers your special shoe.”

Douglas wasn’t as optimistic. “If you say so, Your Grace.” He stared back out the window.

Nicholas put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Douglas. Things will turn out fine.”

The boy didn’t answer, but Nicholas didn’t expect him to. He joined Colin in the hall and followed him down the stairs. Both men settled capes around their shoulders and tugged down their hats before venturing into the pouring rain.

“He’s worried that his girl won’t want him anymore,”
Colin confided as they crossed the threshold and headed for the stables.

“Does she know what happened to him?”

“She does. Nora says she won’t come to see him so long at he’s at Severn. She says it’s because she wouldn’t be comfortable in such a grand house, but Douglas thinks it’s because she doesn’t want anything to do with a cripple.”

Nicholas sneered. “That sounds like a woman, all right. Long on promises, short on loyalty.”

“You’re too cynical, Pa,” Colin chided. “It’s entirely possible Nora is afraid of coming to the house. You haven’t heard the stories being told about the barbarian from America.” He wiggled his eyebrows melodramatically.

Nicholas raised a single brow in a devilish arch that only proved his son’s point. “Am I that frightening, then?”

“To most of the people hereabouts,” Colin confirmed with a grin. “They don’t know what to make of you. They’re afraid you’ll follow through on your threat to sell, and that has them worried. And they’ve heard a lot of exaggerated stories about the number of men you’ve killed. They’re wondering whether you’re a madman or simply prone to violence. In any case, they prefer to keep their distance.”

“And what do they think about you?” Nicholas asked.

Colin shrugged. “I haven’t much to do with deciding their futures.”

“Whereas I do?”

“You haven’t asked for my opinion, Pa, but I’ll give it to you anyway. I’ve seen the way you look at
this place, even when it’s raining. You love it, Pa. It’s there in your eyes. I don’t understand why you insist on selling Severn. But I have to confess, I wouldn’t be happy living here. I would miss Simp, and the ranch, and good old Texas sunshine too much.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “If you need to stay here to be happy, that’s all right with me. I can go back—”

Nicholas clutched Colin’s arm to keep him from finishing his sentence. He saw his son wince and loosened his hold. He wanted to deny Colin’s perceptive words. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t lie to his son. He felt a certain affinity for Severn. The green rolling hills pleased his eyes. And there were memories—mostly happy ones—constantly tugging at him to linger. But he wasn’t going to stay at Severn if it meant losing his son.

Nicholas felt a queer lurch in his chest at the thought of the separation that would come someday, when Colin set out on his own. But not yet. Not so soon. He wasn’t ready to send his fledgling from the nest.

Simp would scold him roundly if he caught him trying to hang on when Colin was ready to go. But these were extraordinary circumstances. There was no need to force Colin to make a choice between his father and America. Nicholas would make that choice easy. They would both be returning to Texas.

“I won’t be staying here, Colin. So there’s no need for you to worry about leaving me in England when you return home.”

Colin managed a puckish grin. “All right, Pa. Whatever you say.”

They didn’t talk much during the ride to Rockland
Park, preferring to keep their chins tucked into their capes and to make the best speed possible through the heavy weather.

Nicholas took advantage of the quiet time to think about Severn. He needed to get his business taken care of as quickly as possible and get headed home. Perhaps the tenants’ fear of him would work to his advantage. Perhaps they would do what he asked, rather than face his wrath. Maybe Daisy wouldn’t need to intercede after all. Only time would tell.

He hadn’t seen much of Daisy over the past five days beyond their two encounters and the time they spent together at supper. She had stayed out of his way, using the excuse that Mrs. Motherwell had several household matters that needed her attention. It was probably better that way. He had discovered in the attic that he wasn’t able to look at her without wanting her. And where Daisy was concerned, he wasn’t a patient man.

To Nicholas’s disgust, the rain eased just as they arrived at Rockland Park. The sun came out and created a magnificent, misty rainbow. “It’s about time.”

“You can say that again, Pa. If I ever had any doubts about staying in England, they’ve been settled over the past five days. Lady Roanna told me it rains all the time here. How come you never mentioned that to me, Pa?”

“I’d forgotten about it.” Nicholas and his cousins had simply retired to the attic to play on rainy days, bouncing down the stairs and outside again when the sun returned. The English rain hadn’t interfered at all with their enjoyment of life.

Colin was expected, and they were ushered into
the drawing room where everyone had gathered for tea. Nicholas met Lord and Lady Willowbrook, their daughters Lady Hope and Lady Grace, both of an age to be presented to society, and their son, Lord Frederick, who was probably five or six years older than Colin.

Nicholas wasn’t aware that he knew Lord Willowbrook, yet the instant he saw the man, he recognized him. And then couldn’t take his eyes off him. It was the birthmark on Willowbrook’s cheek that drew his eye. He and his cousins had dubbed the man Blotberry because of the blemish, the size and color of a ripe raspberry, positioned close to his jaw. Blotberry had come to the country every year to hunt as a guest of the Earl of Rotherham but had frequently joined parties that included the Duke of Severn and Lord Philip, the duke’s brother.

Blotberry looked like a villain, with that ugly mark on his face. Now that Nicholas looked at the man with adult eyes, however, he could see that Blotberry—Lord Willowbrook—had good features, wide-spaced gray eyes, a straight nose, a head of thick black hair laced with strands of silver, a wide mouth with good teeth, and a square chin. He was tall and not too broad at the shoulder, with a wiry frame.

Nicholas froze as he finished his mental recitation. He could be describing himself. Except, of course, for the birthmark and the silver in his hair. Nicholas tried to see the humor in the fact he might be Blotberry’s son. How Tony and Stephen would laugh at that!

Only Tony and Stephen were dead. And he was the Duke of Severn by default. Nicholas stared at
Blotberry until he realized his scrutiny had been noticed. “You remind me of someone.” Nicholas said.
Myself
.

He turned immediately to Lady Willowbrook and said, “You have a charming family, ma’am.” Which gave him a chance to peruse Blotberry’s son. He was relieved to notice the boy didn’t look a thing like his father. He had his mother’s brown eyes and hair, her slightly upturned nose and bowed upper lip.

If Lady Willowbrook was upset by his failure to address her properly, she didn’t show it. Perhaps word had spread of the barbarian duke’s abominable manners, he thought cynically.