The Inheritance (29 page)

Colin gulped. “You aren’t going to get mad at her, are you, Pa?”

“Don’t you worry about Daisy, son. I’ll take care of her.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Colin muttered.

“What was that you said?”

“Nothing, Pa.”

Nicholas figured it was time to change the subject before he gave away the game. “It looks like everything’s set up for the party.”

“Yeah. Everyone’s coming, Pa. All the neighbors from miles around, and the tenants, too. It’s going to be quite a shindig. I promised to help with the decorating in the ballroom, Pa. I’ve got to go.”

“The ballroom?”

“We’re having dancing with musicians and everything. I’ll get to try out some of the waltz steps Simp taught me. And Daisy helped me practice some English country dances.”

Colin knew he wasn’t going to be able to avoid Lady Roanna at the reception as he had at the wedding. So he had made up his mind to dance with her, if she would, and enjoy her company. She couldn’t hurt him anymore. He had his heart safe behind high walls now.

“It’s good to have you back, Pa,” Colin said as he headed from the room.

Nicholas didn’t say it, but it felt good to be back.
Especially when it had seemed for a moment in London like everything might be ripped away before he was ready to let it go. When he rode up the drive to the manor this morning, it had felt as if he were coming home. It had all looked so familiar. He could almost hear the whoops of laughter from Tony and Stephen. Almost hear his father shouting encouragement as they played cricket. The crack of the ball was real. And shattering glass, as he broke the leaded glass window in his mother’s bedroom.

She had come downstairs with the ball, her face aglow with pride. “What a hit, Nicholas,” she said. And she had hugged him. His father had hugged her and whispered in her ear, and she had blushed and smiled and hurried back into the house.

Tragically, that wasn’t the only happy memory he had at Severn Manor. Sometimes they bombarded him. He would walk into a room and see his family and his cousins’ family there. He would ride across a stream and remember lying there on his back, with his father beside him, fishing. It had been a glorious childhood. For eight years. Until some man, someone, had spoiled it all.

Among those on a list Daisy had given him of guests she had invited to the reception were several “suspects” he had compiled with Charles and refined with Phipps in London. He would be terribly remiss not to investigate as many leads as he could at the party. Especially since the elusive Estleman could not be questioned for months. It would be a travesty if he ignored everyone else and then discovered Estleman knew nothing.

Nicholas opened the desk drawer and pulled out
the short list of men who might be able to shed light on his situation.

Lord Prestyne

Squire Templeton

The Reverend Mr. Golightly

Mr. Dabney

Viscount Linden

He would make the acquaintance of each one of them this evening. According to Charles, none of the men bore much resemblance to Nicholas, but that didn’t necessarily rule any of them out as his father. Except perhaps Mr. Golightly, who was old enough to be Nicholas’s grandfather. But the reverend had been here long enough to be in a position to know everything that had happened in the parish for the past twenty-seven years. Maybe tonight he would learn something about his past he didn’t already know.

Anything was possible.

Certainly tonight he would get some answers from Daisy about her flight from the inn. She wouldn’t dare to defy him. If she did, he would keep his promise and come after her. He could already feel her flesh, smell the scent she wore, imagine himself inside her.

Nicholas laughed, a harsh, self-deprecating sound. What a fool he was. He wanted her so badly he was trembling at the thought of bedding her. He should leave Daisy alone. She was trouble.

He laughed again. When had he ever turned his back on trouble? He had risked his life a dozen times for the reward to be had at the end of the trail. The
reward of having Daisy in his bed, in his life, was definitely worth the risk of a little trouble.

Of course, there was always the possibility she would give him more than a little trouble.

Nicholas grinned. He was looking forward to it.

Nicholas admired Daisy as she descended the stairs. She was breathtakingly beautiful in an emerald gown that made her dark-lashed green eyes look huge and luminous. She had pulled her hair off her face, leaving only a few enticing tendrils that begged to be touched. Her lips were pink and swollen as though she had been well kissed, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He hadn’t seen her since early that morning. More likely she had been biting them in agitation. The love bruise he had given her on their wedding night was gone, and the dress exposed her bare shoulders and more bosom than he would have liked. She belonged to him. He didn’t care to share even that much of her with other men.

Nicholas didn’t know where the possessive streak he felt toward Daisy came from. He certainly hadn’t felt that way toward any other woman, not even Colin’s mother. Of course, considering her profession, that would have been ridiculous.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Daisy said.

Nicholas noticed her hand trembled slightly as she laid it in the callused palm he extended to her.
“For tonight, do you think you could call me Nicholas? After all, we are husband and wife.”

“If ever so briefly,” she shot back. Her green eyes flashed, and her swollen mouth flattened in a mulish cast.

Nicholas smiled inside, but the expression never reached his mouth or eyes. This was the Daisy he was most familiar with, the prickly one that gave as good as she got. “Then let’s make the most of the time we have, shall we?” Nicholas whispered.

He felt her shiver and saw her glance warily at him from the corner of her eye. There was nowhere she could run tonight. And she knew it.

She reached up and touched a small cut on his jaw, then quickly withdrew her hand. “What happened to your face?”

“Believe it or not, Porter cut me shaving,” Nicholas said. “He swore it’s the first time his hand has ever slipped.”

“Oh, dear,” Daisy said.

“It’s nothing. An accident.”

“Oh, dear. I’m afraid it’s only the tip of the iceberg.”

“What?”

“You’ll see,” Daisy said enigmatically. Apparently the servants’ revenge for the duke’s behavior toward her had already begun.

“Come, wife. Let’s go meet our guests.”

Daisy wanted desperately to pull free of Nicholas, to run back upstairs and lock herself in her room. But that would accomplish nothing. She didn’t think a locked door would do much to hold him back if he wanted in. The best she could do was to put on a
brave front and refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was frightened.

Only a few of the neighbors had been invited for supper. Everyone else was scheduled to arrive for the dance afterward. Nicholas and Daisy greeted each couple in the drawing room as they arrived. Charles and Priss were among the first to appear, along with the earl’s daughter, Lady Roanna.

Daisy noticed that Roanna had eyes only for Colin, who was standing by the fireplace. As soon as the young woman had greeted Daisy, she headed toward him. Daisy didn’t have time to see how Colin greeted her because Priss claimed her attention.

“How are you, Daisy?” Priss asked. “I must say marriage agrees with you,” she added after a searching look at Daisy’s face.

“What makes you say that?”

“You have a certain glow, of excitement, I suppose.”

It was terror, actually. Daisy didn’t have time to correct Priss because the next guests were waiting to be greeted. “Hello, Mr. Golightly, Mrs. Golightly. It’s good to see you.”

Mrs. Golightly dipped a quick curtsy, beaming at Daisy the whole time. “I’m so happy for your Grace. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Imagine His Grace returning to Severn after all these years. And the two of you falling in love and getting married—it’s like a fairy tale ending.”

Daisy stared at Mrs. Golightly, stunned. Where on earth had Mrs. Golightly gotten the impression that she and Nicholas were in love? Again, she wasn’t given time for a reply. The next couple to arrive were
the first that Nicholas wasn’t already acquainted with, and Daisy needed to make introductions.

“Your Grace, may I present Lord and Lady Prestyne?”

Nicholas ignored Lady Prestyne and gave Lord Prestyne a searching look that he could see made the man uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help himself. He kept thinking that if he looked hard enough, he would see the answers he sought in some stranger’s eyes.

Lord Prestyne was nearly as tall as Nicholas, but he had graying hair, which gave no clue to the color, and not much of that. His eyes were also gray, like Nicholas’s, but small and spaced close together. His nose was slightly bulbous, and his lips were thick and fleshy. If this was his father, Nicholas resembled him not at all.

Prestyne also had several affectations that made Nicholas cringe. The older man carried a lace handkerchief, which he waved when he spoke, and there must have been three rings bearing precious stones on each hand, besides a gold watch in his vest pocket that held several fobs. He wore a black formal evening coat, but his waistcoat was a brilliant puce.

“Lord Prestyne owns the land adjacent to Severn on the west,” Daisy explained, “but spends most of the year in London.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet Your Grace,” Prestyne said. “Perhaps we can hunt together sometime?”

“Perhaps,” Nicholas hedged. That might be a way to get Prestyne alone so he could ask more questions. Assuming he didn’t get the answers he wanted
tonight. Then his attention was distracted by Daisy’s introduction of another guest.

“This is Squire Templeton and Mrs. Templeton,” Daisy said. “The squire owns the cottage south of Severn and raises sheep for wool and mutton.”

Nicholas hadn’t been the subject of much fawning obsequiousness since his arrival at Severn. Squire Templeton made up for that lack. His bow was low enough to show the bald spot on top of his head. His smile spread from ear to ear. And he was garrulous. The man didn’t stop talking from the instant Daisy made the introductions. Nicholas was just about to cut him off with an oath when the man’s conversation turned in a direction that caught his attention.

“… so I was saying to the Mrs.—that’s Mrs. Templeton, Your Grace—what a good thing it was they found you in America and brought you back home where you belong. I never believed for one instant the rumors that spread about your dear departed mother. If you could have seen Lord Philip in the first days and weeks after Lady Philip left, you’d have sworn he knew what a mistake he’d made.

“Not that he ever forgave her. Stubborn. That’s what he was. And her, too. Anyone could have seen it coming. Loved each other too much, if you ask me. Jealousy. Bad thing, that. Ruined them both in the end, didn’t it?

“But at least you’re here now, and the wrong can be righted.” He turned to Daisy as though suddenly realizing that it was only because she had been widowed that Nicholas had been sought out in America. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” he said to Daisy. “Not to diminish your tragedy. Not at all. But
with you married to His Grace everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

According to Charles, it was Mrs. Templeton who was the parish gossip. If so, Nicholas saw the man and his wife were well matched. If there hadn’t been someone standing behind Squire Templeton, it was entirely possible, Nicholas thought, the man might have kept right on talking for the rest of the evening. Nicholas intended to get the squire alone later, to see how much of what he had said was speculation and how much was based on fact. But it had felt good to hear someone describe his parents as happily married. Especially since that was the way he remembered them.

“Viscount Linden and Lady Linden,” Daisy said. “Lord and Lady Linden own the estate to the north, Linden’s Folly.”

Nicholas’s eyes narrowed as he and the viscount exchanged nods that sufficed for bows. He wondered how Linden had made Charles’s list. The viscount was a mere five to ten years older than Nicholas and still quite a handsome and virile man. He had wavy black hair that had silvered at the temples. His eyes were a frosty gray and inscrutable. His lips were thin, though his mouth was wide. There was a tension in the man that made Nicholas believe Lord Linden would be a formidable adversary in a fight. Here was the first Englishman he had met that he thought could have held his own in Texas.

“I believe we have something in common, Your Grace,” the viscount said. “We’ve both recently returned to England from a considerable stay in America.”

Nicholas recognized from his flattened accent that
the viscount didn’t sound as English as most Englishmen. “Whereabouts in America?”

“Wyoming Territory, Your Grace.”

“I’m from Texas myself,” Nicholas said, extending his hand. “And please call me Nick.”

“I’m Miles,” the tall man said with a smile as he shook the duke’s hand.

“How long did you live in America?” Nicholas asked.