The Inheritance (17 page)

Nicholas desperately wanted a chance to speak with Blotberry alone. He realized he had better start thinking of the man as Willowbrook, or he was liable to accidentally blurt out his childhood nickname for the man.

“I’d like to see that new stud you bought,” he said to Charles. “Would you like to join us, Willowbrook?”

Since the earl had already shown Nicholas the stud, he raised a brow in inquiry. At Nicholas’s urgent look he picked up his cue and said, “You might like to see Black Star, Willowbrook. I plan to race him next year.”

“A racehorse? Why didn’t you say so?” Willowbrook said. “Lead on, Your Grace, lead on.”

Nicholas had never much cared for being called Your Grace, but he found he especially didn’t like it when a man of Willowbrook’s age and stature used it. Nicholas had learned in America, and especially in the West, that a man deserved only as much respect as he had earned. In England, Nicholas’s title
gave him that respect automatically. He fought the urge to correct the older man. Especially since he planned to use Willowbrook’s deference to a duke to get the answers he wanted.

Nicholas bided his time and allowed Willowbrook to admire Black Star’s conformation and bloodlines. Then he introduced the subject he had been waiting to discuss.

“I understand you were acquainted with my father,” Nicholas said.

“Yes, Your Grace, I knew him well.”

Nicholas noted that Blotberry—he was staring at the raspberry mark, and the name kept popping into his mind—seemed nervous. He was a little nervous himself. Hell, he was terrified. He slipped his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling. “Did my father ever speak to you about …” Nicholas swallowed over the constriction in his throat. He had to ask. He had to know.

“Did my father ever speak to you about the events that led to his banishment of my mother and me?”

Willowbrook stiffened with his hand outstretched toward Black Star. He slowly withdrew his hand and turned to face Nicholas. His lip curled. “I see you’ve noticed the similarities in our appearance, Your Grace. Your father was equally perceptive. He noticed the same thing.”

“And confronted you? Am I your son?” Nicholas asked in a raw voice.

Willowbrook shook his head. “No, Your Grace. You are not.”

“Did my father believe you sired me?”

“He did. For a day. I denied it, of course, but he challenged me to a duel anyway. Before we could
meet, he received some new information that he said cleared me of any possible guilt in the matter. He apologized and told me he knew I was blameless.”

“Did he tell you who he believed to be my father?”

Willowbrook huffed out a breath of air and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief. “I’m sorry to say I didn’t ask, Your Grace. I was too relieved not to be facing him in a duel. Your father was an excellent shot.”

Nicholas’s face blanched. He had been so sure he was going to find the answers he had sought at last. He wouldn’t have liked knowing he was old Blotberry’s son, but at least he would have come to the end of the trail. It wasn’t over. He had to go on asking questions.

“Do you know … Was there anyone … Did my mother …?” Nicholas found himself unable to phrase the question he needed to ask.

“I never saw your mother look at another man,” Willowbrook said, comprehending very well what concerned the duke. “She was a very beautiful woman. Before she married your father, many men, rich, powerful men, sought her hand. She could have married far above your father. That led me to believe she must have loved Lord Philip a great deal. I don’t know what would make him think she would betray him.”

“Did my father have any enemies that you know of?” Nicholas asked. “Could someone have purposely poisoned his mind against my mother?”

Willowbrook frowned. “To be honest, I haven’t ever considered the matter in that light, Your Grace.
I thought merely that Lord Philip had heard rumors of some liaison that he chose to believe.”

“Who started the rumors?”

“That, Your Grace, I cannot say. You might speak to Lord Estleman. He lives in London most of the year. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll return to the house.”

Willowbrook left the duke and the earl standing beside the stall that held Black Star. They were silent long enough for Willowbrook to be out of hearing distance.

“Well?” the earl asked. “Did you get the answers you needed?”

Nicholas grimaced. “You heard him. I don’t really know any more now than I did before I started asking questions. Except that I need to speak with Lord Estleman.”

“You know you’re not Blotberry’s son,” the earl said.

Nicholas was surprised into laughing. “How did you know we use to call him Blotberry?”

“Tony told me. The name fits, I think. It’s amazing how much you look like him. Do you suppose he lied about being your father?”

Nicholas shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve learned over the years how to spot a liar. Blotberry was telling the truth.”

“How do you know?” Charles asked, intrigued by this insight into Nicholas as bounty hunter.

“I watched his eyes,” Nicholas said. “And his hands. The hands always give a liar away, even when his eyes don’t.”

“How so?”

“Find me a liar, and I’ll show you what I mean,” Nicholas said with a grin.

“You’re going to continue your quest?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I haven’t got any answers yet.”

“I’ll invite Estleman to visit from London,” the earl said.

“Do you know him?”

The earl stroked Black Star’s jaw. “I’ve had him here to hunt several times over the years.”

There was a pause before Nicholas asked, “Does he look like me? Or perhaps I should ask, do I look like him?”

Charles pursed his lips. “He has black hair. He’s tall, like you. I don’t remember what color his eyes are. But he must weigh a good stone and a half more than you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Nicholas said. “Does he have features similar to mine?”

Nicholas endured the earl’s examination as long as he could before he said, “Good God, man, it can’t be that difficult to say one way or the other.”

“That’s just it,” Charles said with a sheepish look. “If he were a stone and a half lighter, a slight bit taller, Estleman would look a great deal like you. Of course, I have no idea what color his eyes are. They might be black or green or blue for all I know.”

Nicholas forced himself to relax. He reached out and laid a hand on Black Star’s neck, knowing he needed to touch something warm and alive. “Invite him soon, please, Charles. I’m going to be married in two weeks. Invite him to come soon. Before the wedding, if possible.”

“All right, Nick. Is there anyone else on any of the lists that you want to speak to before the wedding?”

The duke’s lips twisted. “Is there anyone on that list who looks as much like me as Blotberry?”

The earl’s brow furrowed. “Lord, Nick. I don’t even remember what half those men look like. And who’s to say you look like your father, anyway? If Lord Philip was your father, you didn’t particularly look like him. You have a lot of your mother’s facial features, as I recall. In your case, the Windermere blood didn’t breed true.”

“Assuming I have any Windermere blood,” Nicholas said. “My mother had dark brown hair and hazel eyes. My father had blond hair and blue eyes. My hair is black and my eyes are gray. You breed horses. Tell me, could my father have sired me?”

“It’s possible,” Charles said. “How much do you know about your mother’s people? Were they black-haired? Gray-eyed?”

Nicholas realized suddenly that he didn’t really know his grandmother and grandfather on his mother’s side. They had preferred London to the country, and Nicholas had never made a trip to the city to visit them. But he could go to his aunt and ask her about them. What color were her eyes? Nicholas wondered. He had never looked that closely at her. Her hair had been an even darker brown than his mother’s—maybe even black. It was gray now.

He wondered how his aunt had remained so much a stranger to him. She had been Tony’s and Stephen’s nurse, had lived at Severn Manor year round and stayed with the duke’s family on holidays. Perhaps it was because she and his mother hadn’t been close. As a result, he simply hadn’t paid much attention to her.

He decided to approach her again. She could have
no objection to describing his grandparents to him. And it might help him in unraveling the mystery of his birth. “You’re right,” he said to Charles. “I need to speak with my aunt. I’d like to do it now, but it’s going to be difficult to convince Colin to leave, when we just got here.”

“Let him stay,” Charles said. “With all the females in the house, Frederick can use the company.”

“Are you sure?” Nicholas said, eyeing his friend.

The earl stuck his hands in his pockets before he answered. “I’m sure.”

“Afraid I’ll catch you lying?” Nicholas said with a pointed look at the earl’s hands.

Charles laughed. “I’ll probably never answer another question with my hands in plain sight. Are you sure you don’t want to give away your secrets now, Nick?”

“Wait until I speak with Estleman,” Nicholas said. “If you don’t notice the signs yourself, I’ll tell you what they are,” he said. “Give my regards to the ladies. They’ll appreciate it more from you anyway.”

Nicholas found his horse in a stall and the tack nearby and began to saddle his mount.

“I can get a groom to do that,” Charles said.

“I can manage.”

“Are you having any second thoughts about marriage?” Charles asked as Nicholas finished and led his horse from the stall.

Nicholas grinned. “Amazing as it may sound, none at all.”

“What about Daisy?”

Nicholas’s features hardened. “It wouldn’t matter if she did. We have a bargain.”

“You wouldn’t force her—”

“Don’t interfere, Charles,” Nicholas said in a warning voice. “Daisy and I have an understanding. It doesn’t matter if anyone else approves. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“The duchess is a lady, Nick.”

“Yes, she is. And in two weeks, she’ll be my wife.”

Nicholas mounted in a smooth leap that didn’t require touching the stirrup. “Good-bye, Charles. Thanks for your help.”

Just as he spurred his horse, the heavens opened again. Muttering imprecations at the weather, Nicholas made his way back to Severn Manor. Where Lady Celeste—and perhaps the answers to a few questions—waited.

As he exited the stable at Severn, Nicholas was nearly bowled over by a soggy, caped figure hurrying toward the house. He could tell it was a woman, but no more than that. He reached out to keep the sopping-wet female from falling. When he did, her hood feel back and he realized he was holding Daisy.

“If I’d known you enjoyed the rain so much, we could have gone visiting the tenants days ago,” he said dryly.

Daisy shivered. She was wet to the bone. “I had some errands to run, so I took care of them. If you’ll kindly release me, I’ll go change.”

Her face was slick from the rain, and her hair had curled in damp tendrils around her face. He wanted to lick her dry. He wanted to pull her to him and let the steam rise as he warmed her body with his own. He couldn’t release her. Not yet. “Where have you been, Daisy?”

“If it’s any of your business, I visited the Hepplewhites.”

“Why?”

“To take them some food and fuel for their fire.
Douglas told me how famished they would be and how cold. I didn’t think I could wait any longer for the rain to stop.”

Nicholas thought of the comfort it would bring Douglas to know his family was fed and warm and felt admiration for what she had done. Along with admiration came annoyance. Why hadn’t she asked him to come along? He was the one who had taken on the responsibility for Hepplewhite. He felt a little ashamed that he hadn’t thought of helping the family himself.

“You should have told me what you had in mind. I would have had someone do it for you. There was no need for you to take a chance with your health.”

“I’m perfectly healthy,” Daisy protested. “A little cold water isn’t going to do me any harm.” Her body contradicted her with a violent shiver.

“You’re half frozen.” Without stopping to think of the consequences, he picked her up in his arms. “It’s time I got you inside and dried off.”

“I can walk, Your Grace,” Daisy protested.

“I know. But I’m enjoying holding you in my arms,” Nicholas replied unrepentently.

Daisy knew better than to struggle. Twice before she had tried to thwart him and twice had landed on the ground. Instead, she turned her face into his shoulder and slipped her arm around his neck. At least that way she wouldn’t have to face the servants when the duke carried her so ignominiously over the threshold.

As she had known they would, the servants made a to-do over the fact she wasn’t walking on her own two feet.

“The duchess is only wet and cold,” Nicholas told
Thompson. “I’m going to take her upstairs. Ask Mrs. Motherwell to send up some hot tea,” he commanded. “And see about having some hot water brought up for a bath.”

Daisy felt the first stir of alarm when she realized the duke had no intention of setting her down at the foot of the stairs. To the contrary, he had just announced to the entire household that he intended to carry her upstairs.