A Rival Heir (3 page)

“Well, my word! That is the outside of enough!” she exclaimed, indignant. “My name is muddied because Frederickson goes beyond the line of what is pleasing. Really, Hugh, you should rather have a word with that ramshackle young man. He tried to kiss me! Word of honor, I did nothing to encourage him.”

“Nothing but be the most adorable woman in town, with a habit of attracting men of his caliber like filings to a magnet.” He waved aside her protest. “No, no, don’t tell me it is not your fault. I quite understand that you are unable to protect yourself from such hangers on. I believe Holmsly would do well to take a little better care of you.”

To his vast surprise, tears sprang to her eyes and she dug awkwardly in her reticule for a handkerchief. She turned aside from him, dabbing at her eyes, and eventually discreetly blew her nose on the flimsy piece of fabric. “Holmsly,” she managed to say, “is from town—again.”

“Devil take the man! I thought he had brought you here to spend a little time in your company after your confinement. Where’s he off to now?”

“Bristol, apparently.” She tucked her handkerchief back in her reticule and schooled her lovely face to a look of acceptance. “Business, of course. He indicated that he would be gone no more than a week.”

“A week! There’s very little business one could take more than a day to conclude in Bristol, I swear.” He tried to erase the frown from his brow, taking his sister’s arm and twining it once again with his. “No matter. I’ve seen how proud he is of his son, Emily. You mustn’t fret at his absence. How is the babe?”

“Thriving.” She sighed but a rueful smile peeped out. “I was about to take Frederickson to see the baby, Hugh, when he tried to kiss me. Really, a new mama! What could he have been thinking of?”

“Heaven knows. I’ll have a word with him.”

“No, truly, that won’t be necessary. He did not at all like being slapped.”

“I dare say. I shouldn’t myself.”

“Just as well Holmsly is away,” she said philosophically. “By the time he returns it will all be forgotten, I dare say. But you were going to tell me about Miss Longstreet’s young companion.”

“So I was.” Sir Hugh took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I very much fear that Miss Armstrong may be in a way to edging me out of my supposed inheritance.”

Emily halted abruptly, her gaze flying up to his very serious countenance. “Surely not! Why, it was decided eons ago that you were to be her heir.”

“Yes, but these arrangements can be changed, my dear. She is not obliged to leave me her fortune—any more than she is obliged to stick her spoon in the wall any time soon for my convenience.”

“Oh, treacherous!” his sister pronounced. “She knows you have expectations from her. Are you quite certain, Hugh?”

“No.” His thoughtful frown furrowed what Emily had once declared his ‘noble brow.’ “There is no knowing what’s afoot—especially with my godmother. Since she has taken me in aversion I’ve wondered if she might not look elsewhere to leave her worldly goods. But I would give a great deal to know if she has changed her will.”

“Then I shall find out for you,” Emily declared. “I shall insinuate myself into her household.—You know that no one is able to resist Walter—I  shall take him to visit her tomorrow morning—he’s at his best in the morning—and become fast friends with Miss Armstrong. See if I don’t. And then I shall quiz her, in a most subtle and delicate way, until I have gathered all the information you require, my dear.”

“Subtle? Delicate? These are words I never expected to hear fall from your lips, my fantastical sister. I trust you will do no such thing. The poor girl is in need of someone to befriend her, not an avenging inquisitor.”

“I can see no reason to befriend her when she’s attempting to do you out of your inheritance!”

Sir Hugh grimaced. “My dear Emily, anyone who has managed to suffer with Miss Longstreet for ten years is deserving of everything she may lay claim to. I don’t say that the girl has any intention of becoming Miss Longstreet’s heir, just that I would not be at all surprised if she were. It would delight my godmother to have sufficient reason—in her own mind—to disinherit me. My being a grown man was perhaps not quite as adequate an excuse as she would have liked.”

“Miserable old sourpuss! Well, I am not a man, and Walter is but an infant, so we shall introduce ourselves into their household and learn the whole. See if we don’t!”

“You terrify me,” he objected, but with an amused shake of his head. “Still, I suppose it could do no harm if you were to make a morning call, Emily. I very much fear that Miss Longstreet intends to keep her companion pretty closely tied to her. You would be doing a good deed to rescue the girl from my godmother for an hour or two.”

Emily nodded conspiratorily. “You’re right. She’s much more likely to let her tongue wag if she’s not in the presence of that old ogre. Trust me, Hugh.”

“God help us,” he sighed, and turned the subject.

* * * *

It was Aunt Longstreet’s habit to get to the Pump Room early. Mostly, Nell believed, because she wished to see as few people as possible. Her aunt drank the required two glasses of water with little sign of enjoyment, and then usually urged her companion away as quickly as possible.

The day after their disastrous trip to the library, Aunt Longstreet professed an interest in the Abbey Churchyard which aroused Nell’s suspicions. Aunt Longstreet was not, despite her avowed interest in tradition, much given to scouting out churches and abbeys.

While they awaited a break in the constant stream of carriages and carts, they were approached by a young man who looked vaguely familiar to Nell. He tipped his curly beaver hat to them and offered to see them safely across the road.

“Do you take us for a pair of ninnyhammers, sir?” Aunt Longstreet demanded.

“Not at all, ma’am,” he assured her, the color rising in his cheeks. “But I believe you may be visitors to Bath and unfamiliar with such heavy traffic as we are accustomed to from the Oxford and London roads. Perhaps I might be of some use in escorting you across.”

“I cannot see how,” Aunt Longstreet grumbled. “Unless, of course, you was willing to rush out in front of a carriage and be run over. That would probably stop ‘em.”

“Aunt!” Nell protested. Turning to the young man, she said, “Thank you, sir. We had best simply wait for a break in the traffic, I think.”

He smiled at her, and bowed, and went on his way.

Only then did Nell realize that he was the young librarian from the previous day. She sighed in despair at her aunt behaving so badly to him not once now, but twice. Really, it was too bad of her.

When at length the two women managed to cross the road, Nell was not surprised to find her aunt giving the Abbey Churchyard short shrift. “Very nice, very nice,” the older woman muttered as she plodded past the magnificent stone edifice with its delightful stained glass windows. With each step Aunt Longstreet poked her cane at the pavement as though she intended to punish if for any difficulties she found in walking. Despite the effort her niece knew it to be, she continued past the Abbey and on to the Orange Grove, pausing only briefly before turning toward the Grand Parade overlooking the Parade Gardens.

“Perhaps we should find a sedan chair for you, Aunt Longstreet,” Nell suggested diffidently. “We’ve come rather far afield.”

“Nonsense. I’m perfectly capable of walking a few blocks. Does my constitution good.”

But in fact Nell could see that her aunt was flagging. “Very well, but I should like to sit here on the bench for a moment to survey the Gardens.”

Her aunt did not object to being seated on the slatted wooden bench, but her gaze fell on the houses nearby rather than on the gardens. “I suppose one would have to be pretty well to grass to afford one of those places,” she said dismissively. “Can’t think why anyone would want to live in Bath the year round. It’s well enough for a month’s visit, I suppose, but who could bear to hear the rattling of all those carriages and carts day after day?”

“One may become accustomed to them,” Nell suggested. “And they are lovely houses. I find the golden stone so very warm and attractive. My guidebook says that one of these houses belongs to the Earl of Kentforth.”

“Humph!” Aunt Longstreet grumbled, but her gaze sharpened as the door of a nearby house opened and an elegant man strode forth. “No doubt that is he right now,” she mocked.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Nell replied in her prosaic way. “That man is as young as your godson, and the earl is reputed to be elderly. Sixty if he is a day.”

“I’m sixty, and I do not consider myself elderly, young lady.”

“No, well, women age so much more gracefully than men, don’t you think?”

“No, I do not,” her aunt snapped. She rose from the bench and headed for the Grand Parade. “Come along. I have a great desire to peek in the windows of Bath society—as I’m sure one of your guidebooks would suggest.”

Nell didn’t argue with her aunt, but hastened to catch up with the determined spinster. She was not, in fact, averse to seeing what curtains and furniture she could spy through the charmingly glazed windows of the houses, though she knew that her aunt was merely ridiculing her curiosity. Since most of the draperies were closed, even on such a glorious spring day, there was little to see after all—except for her aunt’s surprisingly intense perusal of one of the nearer houses along the sweep of road.

“Does someone you know live here?” Nell asked, puzzled.

“I know almost no one in Bath,” her aunt responded, glaring.

“And yet we have already met your godson,” Nell pointed out. “What a strange coincidence that was, to encounter him in the lending library. Such a pleasant young man.”

“Much you know,” Aunt Longstreet grumbled. “He’s like all men, untrustworthy, self-absorbed and ramshackle.”

Nell laughed. “Oh, I hardly think that can be true, ma’am. He was most accommodating, I thought. And only consider your own papa, so far as castigating all men goes—he was not the least untrustworthy or self-absorbed. And to think him ramshackle would be most impertinent.”

“Yes, yes, my father was indeed a worthy gentleman. But probably only because his generation had some respect for their consequence and responsibilities.” She waved an all-encompassing hand to indicate the male population of Bath. “Fellows today don’t show the least dependability. Life is one long round of pleasure-seeking for the lot of them.”

There was movement at the door of the house her aunt had been observing, and Aunt Longstreet immediately turned aside and started to thump off down the pavement. They heard brisk steps behind them after a few moments, and an older gentleman tipped his hat and said a pleasant “Good morning!” to them as he passed by. Aunt Longstreet had turned her head away, but Nell returned the greeting with a smile.

“You see,” she said to her aunt when the walker was beyond hearing, “another gracious gentleman.”

“Hah!” Her aunt squinted after the man, her hand gripped tight around the head of her cane. “You are easily duped by a kind word, Helen. Sometimes the most villainous men have a smile and a pleasantry. You must learn to be more discriminating.”

“Yes, Aunt Longstreet,” she said. “Shall I see if I can find you a sedan chair?”

“Certainly not! I’m quite capable of walking the few blocks to Queen Square.”

Though this proved to be true, Nell could tell that her aunt had spent her burst of energy well before they arrived at their residence. As they traversed the last few yards, with Nell’s pace slowed considerably to accommodate Aunt Longstreet, they observed a small procession arriving from the opposite direction. This consisted of a beautiful young woman in the most fetching bonnet Nell had ever seen, a footman in livery who was drawing a small wagon behind him, and in the wagon a child of a very young age, swathed in blankets and cap as though prepared for a snowstorm. A nursery maid trotted along behind the wagon.

The group stopped before the door of the Aunt Longstreet’s rented house, and the footman proceeded to ply the brass knocker. Woodbridge, their butler brought from Westmorland, answered the door almost immediately. By this time, however, the young lady had spied Nell and her aunt approaching, and she exclaimed, “Why, here they are! Miss Longstreet, you will scarce remember me, it has been so long since we met.”

“Well, who are you?” Aunt Longstreet demanded, frowning. “If you know I won’t remember you, why don’t you offer me your name, girl?”

Startled by this bluntness, the girl blinked and said, “I was about to. I am Emily Holmsly, ma’am, your godson Hugh’s sister.”

“Didn’t know he had a sister,” she snapped.

“Now, Aunt Longstreet, of course you will remember that we received word of Miss Emily’s marriage to Mr. Holmsly almost two years ago now.” Nell offered a hand to the young woman.  “How do you do, Mrs. Holmsly? We had the great pleasure of meeting your brother yesterday.”

“Pleasure! Bah!” Aunt Longstreet muttered as she allowed Woodbridge to assist her into the house. “A pot of tea is what we need,” she insisted to her niece.

Nell acknowledged this request and added to the butler, “If you would have them bring cups for three, please, Woodbridge, and some of the macaroons cook baked yesterday.”

As Mrs. Holmsly was gathering the child from its wagon and obviously intended to follow them into the house, Aunt Longstreet stared suspiciously at her. “I’m not in favor of children,” she said. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Why, he’s a boy,” Mrs. Holmsly informed her, peering into her son’s face with a good deal of besotted affection. “Most people can tell right away, can’t they, Walter? They just get one look at your handsome face and they know you’re going to be the most wonderful, roll-and-tumble little boy, don’t they?”

Aunt Longstreet grimaced. “You’ll have to take him away if he cries. I can’t stand crying.”

Mrs. Holmsly looked helplessly at Nell, who said, “We’ve had a long walk, ma’am, and my aunt is a little fatigued.” Her eyes hinted that there was nothing unusual in her aunt’s behavior, but she did no more than offer a slight shrug. “Your child’s name is Walter? What a lovely, strong name for a boy.”