Lord Cavendish Returns (5 page)

Edward
sighed and knew that Harper wasn’t a man of patience right now. “We
learned recently that you are our half-brother.”

Harper
studied Edward hard. While his face remained impassive, his mind
worked overtime in an attempt to absorb Edward’s
announcement.

“
My parents were from Yorkshire. Born and bred there as a
matter of fact. Although they are no longer with us, I was born in
Yorkshire and had lived there all of my life, with my brothers,
until I joined the army. You have a case of mistaken
identity.”

“
I am afraid that we don’t,” Sebastian replied steadily. The
calm certainty in his voice made Harper glare at him but Sebastian
refused to budge. “We have already checked it out. Although we
haven’t checked the parish records for visible proof of your birth,
we have spoken to the man who is your father and he is still very
much alive.”

Harper
snorted disparagingly but inside was trying desperately to ignore
the sense of unease that had started to settle deep in his gut. The
calm authority on their faces warned him that they firmly believed
what they told him, but he refused to accept it. It was stuff and
nonsense. A case of mistaken identity, that’s what it
was.

“
My father was called Bartholomew Lawton and he was an
ex-soldier. His wife, Agnes, was my mother. I should know. She gave
birth to me.”

In spite
of his words, a small tendril of doubt began to grow, but he
refused to even acknowledge the small voice that warned him that he
needed to ask himself why he was taller than his parents, and of a
stature more akin to the men he was seated with than his brothers
back in Yorkshire. Although Robert, Angus and Joseph were also
tall, they didn’t have the powerful shoulders, or dark hair that
Harper and the Cavendish brothers had. His brothers in Yorkshire
also had brown eyes whereas Harper’s were green, just like Dominic,
Sebastian and Edward’s.

“
Your mother was our mother. Her name was Alice,” Sebastian
added quietly. “Your father is a solicitor from London who used to
work for our family. His name is Harry Johnson from Johnson and
Johnson solicitors. You can go and ask him if you don’t believe
us.”

Harper
studied each man in turn. For once in his life he didn’t know what
to say or, more importantly, what to do. He had travelled the world
during his time in the army but a part of him had always felt as
though he was still connected in some intrinsic way to Yorkshire.
It was the place of his birth. The place he had been raised by the
people he knew and recognised as his parents. He had brothers there
for heaven’s sake. Now these people had kidnapped him, and expected
him to believe that his entire life was based on a lie; that his
parents weren’t his parents. He shook his head and stared at
Dominic.

The only
outward sign of his disquiet was the steady ticking of a muscle in
his jaw. Silence descended in the room as the brothers waited to
see what Harper would do.

“
You have a case of mistaken identity gentlemen.”

“
I am afraid that we don’t, Harper,” Dominic argued and lifted
a hand when Harper took a breath to argue. “You see, the man who
provided for you financially was your real father, Harry Johnson.
The man who took you into his family was his good friend,
Bartholomew Lawton.”

“
What proof do you have to support all of this? Where are your
letters? Women always keep letters detailing what they have done,
where are they?”

“
I am afraid that we don’t have them,” Edward sighed. “We have
searched high and low and found nothing that mentions
you.”

“
Our aunt, our mother’s sister, Mildred, told us about your
existence.”

“
Where is your aunt now?” Harper demanded. He wanted to speak
to the woman himself and demand that a few of his own questions
were answered.

“
She died a couple of months ago.”

Harper
cursed fluidly. “So all you have are the ramblings of someone who
is now deceased, confirmed by a man who must be, what, in his
sixties or seventies by now? You have no documents supporting your
claims, and nothing other than supposition that my family
background has all been a lie?” He swore and shoved away from the
table.

“
Look, we have nothing to gain by doing this, let me tell you.
However, you have to understand that you are a Cavendish, whether
you like it or not,” Sebastian argued.

“
I am nothing of the kind. It is a case of mistaken identity I
tell you,” Harper snapped, determined to thwart whatever it was
they wanted. “I don’t know what the hell you lot are up to but I am
just not interested. This bloody stupidity has to end.”

“
You are entitled now, and have wealth and an estate waiting
for you.”

“
Sod off, have I,” Harper growled. “I am not entitled with
anything other than Mr Harper Lawton, which is my bloody name. I am
not related to you mad bunch of despots, thank God.” He stalked
toward the door and lifted one finger to point back into the room.
“You are bloody lucky that you are not facing kidnapping charges,
mates. Touch me again and I will bloody well see to it that you end
up behind bars whether you are best friends with Sir Hugo or
not.”

He
didn’t wait for any of them to reply and slammed out of the door
with sufficient force that the picture in hallway fell off the wall
and shattered as soon as it hit the stone floor. The passing maid
screamed at the sight of him and dropped the plate of food she
carried.

Harper
glared down at the pie and gravy that splattered up his breeches
and cursed fluidly. His already miserable day had just got
considerably worse.

CHAPTER
TWO

Harper
rolled over in bed and lay basking in the warm sunshine that
streamed through the window. He felt as though this was the first
time he had been warm in a decade. He just wished that the rest of
his life could be so easy to enjoy. Right now he had an entirely
new set of problems to the ones he had last night, like a group of
rich and entitled members of the aristocracy who thought they were
his family.

His
thoughts immediately turned to Yorkshire, and the small village of
Hambley Wood. It had been many years since he had been there and he
wondered if it was still the same. The sudden yearning to go home
came from nowhere and refused to be ignored. In that moment,
memories of his fun-filled youth came tumbling back and brought
with them a bittersweet yearning that drove him to climb out of bed
and urged him to complete his journey north.

Hambley
Wood. The small village of approximately two hundred people had
been the place where he had been born and raised. Unlike many, his
childhood had been full of fun and laughter, with most of his youth
spent chasing across fields after his equally ebullient and happy
brothers. He wondered how they had faired over the years, and what
they were doing now. Guilt swept over him for not having kept in
touch with them a little more often but, given the nature of his
work with the Star Elite, it was damned near impossible to know
where he was going to be next week, let alone in three weeks’ time
and he had been unable to arrange a visit for a time when he knew
that he would be able to turn up.

While he
shaved, he studied himself in the cracked mirror above the dresser.
His thoughts turned toward the Cavendish brothers’ revelations from
yesterday. While he was in Hambley Wood, he could at least make a
few discrete enquiries about whether anyone had ever heard of this
Harry Johnson fellow who claimed to be his father. He could also
take a look at the parish registers and get the proof that the
Cavendish men were mistaken.

While he
dressed, he considered his childhood carefully. He had always taken
it for granted that the people he had always called ‘mother’ and
‘father’ were indeed his actual parents. He had certainly always
called Angus, Joseph and Robert his brothers and nobody had ever
corrected him. Last night he had wracked his memories for any word
or mention of a visitor called Harry Johnson, but simply couldn’t
remember much at all except for direct family. As the sons of the
local war hero, there had always been a steady stream of visitors
to the house but he had never thought anything about them before.
It was quite conceivable that Harry Johnson had called at the house
and he just wouldn’t have paid any attention to him.

Harper
rubbed his hand across his now smooth jaw and paused in front of
the mirror again to study the new lines on his face. It wasn’t
often that he really ever stopped and stared at himself. He usually
went to sleep in the dark, woke up in the dark, and spent most of
his working hours in the dark. Now that he did take a look, he
wasn’t entirely comfortable with the changes the ravages of time
had wrought.

There
were fine lines on either side of his almond shaped eyes that he
was sure hadn’t been there the last time he looked and, although
his beard had been thick and rich mahogany, his hair now had a
slight smattering of grey at the temples. He was also certain that
the groves on either side of his mouth were deeper than they had
been when he had left Yorkshire all those years ago. Putting all of
that aside though, he was aware that the most significant change
was in his eyes. There was a weariness there; a certain jaded
wisdom that bothered him. The sparkling laughter that had lit his
eyes throughout his youth had long since faced, and been replaced
with a bone deep cynicism that made him wonder just what his future
would be like if he didn’t soon stop what he was doing and make
some changes.

Harper
sighed and turned away in disgust. He had no idea what the hell was
going on right now but one thing was for certain, he wasn’t going
to uncover the truth by staring at his face.

“
He has gone,” Edward announced and threw himself down in the
chair with a sigh of disgust.

“
Has he gone on foot?” Sebastian demanded around a mouthful of
toast.

“
Nope. The inn keeper said he has bought a horse:
bought
it mind, not
borrowed it, from the farmer on the outskirts of town. He ordered a
pouch of food and took off.”

“
He is an angry man,” Dominic sighed. He couldn’t help but
wonder if they could have managed yesterday’s confrontation a bit
better. To assault him had been bad enough, but then to kidnap him,
tell him that his life was a lie and expect him to just accept it
without question was ludicrous. No wonder the man was angry. “He
needs to look into what we have told him. It is bound to be
disturbing but, once the shock wears off, he will start to ask
questions.”

“
The man has a penchant for ignoring what he chooses not to
know though. What if he rides away and simply puts it out of his
mind, and doesn’t bother to check it out because he doesn’t want
anything to do with the title or wealth?” Edward took a gulp of his
wine and stared first at Dominic and then Sebastian.

“
If he does then we just have to respect his wishes. We have
done all we can to tell him. He knows where to find us if he wants
any more information,” Sebastian replied.

“
We don’t have any more information for him though, that’s the
problem,” Edward argued. Frustration clawed at him. It wasn’t that
their carefully laid plans had failed; it was just that the outcome
hadn’t been what they had all hoped for.

Dominic
put his goblet down on the table and leaned back in his chair. “I
don’t doubt that the man is heading back to Yorkshire right now to
see the brothers he does know. All we can do is hope that when he
gets there he asks the right questions, and finds the evidence he
needs to prove that his mother is our mother.”

There
was little anyone could say to that and they lapsed into silence
while they finished the rest of their meal.

Two days
later, Harper sat on top of the hill and looked down into the small
village at the bottom of the valley. The myriad rooftops were of a
variety of shapes and sizes, but it was easy to pick out the house
he had grown up in.

The last
time he had received a letter from Angus, he had learned that his
brother was now the village doctor and ran a small practice from
the old family home where he still resided. Joseph had moved out
years ago and owned a small farm a couple of miles away, while
Robert was a blacksmith who had a workshop in the centre of Hambley
Wood village, right next to the village green. Angus had requested
Harper urgently return home, but had not explained why.
Unfortunately, Harper had been undercover at the time and had been
unable to make the journey to Yorkshire. Now he wished he
had.

Harper
felt a thrill of eager anticipation sweep through him, and he
nudged his tired horse onward. If he was honest, he was a little
uncertain whether his welcome was going to be a warm one given that
he hadn’t answered any of their requests over the years that he
return home. He could only hope that the Dog and Ferret tavern in
the old market square still provided accommodation because, if his
brothers were less than welcoming then at least he would have
somewhere to stay.

As he
rode through the village, he was aware that several people turned
to stare at him, but simply couldn’t remember if they were faces
from his past or just people who were generally suspicious of
strangers. A thrill of anticipation swept through him as he spied
the huge open doors of the blacksmiths across the square and he
hurried in that direction.