Love's Price (Lord Trent Series) (6 page)

She’d known her father, Charles Sinclair, Earl of Trent, for a few months, too. He was a renowned debaucher of innocent maidens, and his sexual exploits were legendary.

At age forty-six, he was an amazingly handsome man who exuded sophistication and charm. He had a manner of looking at a female that made her feel unique and cherished. His lovers all assumed that the look was original, that it was bestowed on them alone, and it never occurred to any of them that he gazed at every woman the same way.

He couldn’t help it. His seductive appeal seemed as ingrained as his need to breathe.

Fanny’s own mother had been a naïve debutante who’d fallen under the earl’s spell, then died in childbirth. Before Phillip had introduced Fanny to her father, she’d intended to not like anything about him, but he’d been so amiable that she found it difficult to detest him. She wanted to, but she couldn’t.

“Let’s knock and see what we can learn about them,” she said. “What are their names again?”

“Helen and Harriet.”

Phillip went to the door of the country manor where they’d stopped. A butler answered, and they were shown into a parlor and informed that their host, Nigel Stewart, would attend them shortly.

“Are you nervous?” Phillip asked.

“Yes,” Fanny admitted. “Do you suppose they’re here?”

“I don’t have any idea, but we’ll soon find out.”

Phillip was their father’s oldest, though illegitimate son, and it had become his life’s quest to locate Charles’s cast-off children. He was especially apprehensive about Charles’s daughters.

There were at least six girls sired the year Charles was twenty-five—Fanny being one of them. Phillip was determined to confer with all of them, to be certain they were safe and secure. If not, Charles had agreed to see them situated in better circumstances.

Fanny hadn’t met any of her other half-siblings, and as they waited for Nigel Stewart, she was consumed with equal parts curiosity, excitement, and concern.

Were her half-sisters aware of the identity of their father? Would the revelation be welcomed or discounted? Would Fanny’s visit be a blessing or a curse?

Footsteps sounded, and a dapper, attractive gentleman entered. Fanny had been expecting someone older, but he appeared to be her age of twenty-one. He was thin and slight, with white-blond hair and bright blue eyes.

He was dressed appropriately, and he seemed cordial and gracious, but Fanny didn’t like him. She couldn’t have described why, but her initial instinct was to not trust him.

“Hello,” he said, smiling, “I am Nigel Stewart.”

They stood, shook hands and bowed all around, then he motioned for them to sit.

“A viscountess!” he gushed in a fashion Fanny loathed. “My goodness! Our humble abode will never be the same.”

“I’m recently wed to Viscount Henley,” she explained, “so it’s a new title, and I’m still not used to it. I’d be happy if you would call me Fanny.”

“I would be honored, and you must call me Nigel.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“My butler informs me,” he said, “that you’re actually here to speak with my cousins, Helen and Harriet.”

“Are they at home?” Phillip asked.

“No. They haven’t lived at Brookhaven for several years.” Nigel’s smile slipped and worry creased his brow. “I hope they’re all right. You haven’t come with bad news, have you?”

“No.”

“I’m so relieved to hear it.”

“Do you know where they are?” Fanny inquired. “Do you know how we might contact them?”

“No.” Nigel’s cheeks flushed. “It’s a bit of sad family history, I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Perhaps it’s best that they’re away,” Phillip said. “Is your father here? Might we talk to him?”

“My father passed away last August. I was the eldest and only son, so Brookhaven is mine.”

“I see,” Phillip murmured.

He paused, critically assessing Nigel, and Fanny sensed that Phillip was having her same vague misgivings. With their discovering Helen and Harriet to be absent, there was no reason to remain. They could conclude their business and go.

Phillip would be anxious to return to London and his wife, Anne, who was very pregnant and about to give birth to their first child.

Fanny was eager to get home, too. Her baby daughter, Elizabeth, was two months old, and Fanny’s trip with Phillip was the sole time they’d been separated. Her husband, Michael, was extremely protective, and he’d be fretting. He’d been irritated over her traveling—even though it had involved a journey of only a few hours.

“Might we be frank?” Fanny said.

“Yes, of course,” Nigel responded.

“Our father”—Fanny gestured to Phillip and herself—“is Charles Sinclair, Earl of Trent.”

Nigel narrowed his gaze, studying Fanny, then he declared, “Ah...I see it now.”

“What is that?” Phillip queried.

“Helen and Harriet are your half-sisters. The two of you look just like them.”

“Really?” Fanny had no other blood kin, and at the news, she was inordinately thrilled.

“So you know that Trent is their natural father,” Phillip said.

“Oh, yes,” Nigel admitted. “We’ve always known. Their mother was madly in love with him. It was never a secret.”

“And what about Helen and Harriet?”

“They weren’t apprised until they were sixteen.”

“How did they take it?”

“Not well. They were away at school, and they left. We never saw them again.”

“Where did they go?”

“We assume to London—to confront Lord Trent. They wrote a note to the headmistress.”

“But they never arrived or returned?”

“No.” Nigel shrugged. “We searched for them, but London is a large place.”

“And you haven’t had a clue since?”

“No,” he said again. “May I ask why you’re hunting for them?”

“As their siblings,” Phillip claimed, “we simply want to introduce ourselves.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Nigel said.

“So am I.” Phillip stood and offered Nigel his card. “If you should ever hear from them, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know.”

“I will.”

Fanny stood, too. “Thank you for seeing us.”

“It was my pleasure.”

They collected their things, and Nigel escorted them out, waving them off with a friendly goodbye. It was all very correct, very affable, but once their carriage pulled away, Fanny peered over at Phillip and inquired, “What do you think?”

“I don’t like him.”

“Neither do I.”

“I can’t put my finger on it,” Phillip said, “but there’s something dodgy about him.”

“I agree. Did you notice the rug or the sofa?”

“No. Should I have?”

“You’re a typical male, so no. The house is elegant and well-designed, but it’s in a terrible state of disrepair.”

“Interesting.”

“Isn’t it? The carpets are tattered, the drapes and couches badly worn. There were dust balls under the writing desk—as if they have no maids for cleaning.”

“So Mr. Stewart is broke, but exhibiting a public show of affluence?”

“Precisely.”

“And Helen and Harriet? Do you suppose they’re actually missing?”

“I’m not certain,” Fanny said, “but we ought to keep searching. I wouldn’t take Nigel Stewart’s word for anything.”

“Mother! Mother!”

“What is it, darling?”

Nigel rushed up to his mother, Barbara, knowing that he was her dearest favorite, her one true joy in life.

“You’ll never believe what’s happened,” Nigel said.

“Tell me,” she urged, swept up in his excitement.

“We’ve had visitors.”

“Who?”

“A fellow from London named Phillip Sinclair and his half-sister, Viscountess Henley.”

“A viscountess!” Barbara imbued the appellation with the same awe that Nigel had used when speaking to Fanny Wainwright. “What did they want?”

“They were here to see Helen and Harriet.”

“But why?”

“Their father, the Earl of Trent, is looking for them.”

“You don’t say.” A shrewd gleam came into Barbara’s eye.

At age thirty-six, she had a deceptive air about her that made her appear to be a tragic figure, a damsel in distress, but it was all a ruse. She was as tough and cunning as any woman alive.

Nigel had her flair for melodrama, and he yearned to exploit his personal charm to become a dashing man-about-town, and it was simply a crime that he didn’t have the resources to carry on as he deserved.

He’d received an inheritance from his father, but it had been very small and swiftly spent, and he was anxious to wed a rich bride. Under ordinary circumstances, a gentleman of his status shouldn’t have had a problem, but there had been several incidents in the neighborhood, a few jealous girls who’d done things with him that they oughtn’t have, and because of it, his reputation had suffered.

Parents who should have been begging for a union were wary, so he had to persuade someone from outside the area, someone who wasn’t cognizant of recent events. “I was thinking about Lord Trent,” Nigel said.

“So was I,” Barbara replied.

“I’ve heard that he offers dowries to his illegitimate daughters.”

“He’s reported to be extremely generous”—Barbara grinned from ear to ear—“and I’ll bet I can guess exactly what you’re going to propose.”

“I’ll bet you can, too. I should marry Helen or Harriet.”

“Yes, darling, yes! We’ll keep it all in the family. It’s always best when it’s done that way.”

Barbara had often suggested such a match, but previously, he hadn’t been as financially strapped as he currently was.

“And if I wed one of them, we could finally get Attorney Thumberton to disburse the trust fund that Grandfather set aside for them.”

“I never understood why your father couldn’t break the trust terms. It’s outrageous that your grandfather’s will was so carefully drawn. When the twins’ mother caused him so much heartache, I never could fathom his affection for them.”

Nigel’s grandfather had provided for the twins—not a lot, but a fair amount—and when Nigel’s father had learned of the bequest, he’d been livid. He’d spent the last years of his life, trying to redirect the money for his own use, but Thumberton was a wily, ethical character who’d thwarted his every scheme.

The account had languished, accumulating interest and growing in size, with Nigel and his father happy to let Thumberton believe that the twins had vanished and couldn’t be located.

As with his father, Nigel intended to secure the windfall for himself, and a wedding was the perfect solution.

Helen and Harriet were not going to have that money! They were not going to marry outside the family and take it away. Not if Nigel and Barbara had anything to say about it.

“I’ll probably ask Helen,” he announced.

“She’s much more agreeable,” Barbara concurred. “Harriet is too coarse and unruly. She’d make a horrid wife.”

“I should travel to London to speak with Helen immediately.”

“Yes. Fetch her home before Mr. Sinclair stumbles on her. If Trent’s people find her first, they could ruin everything.”

“Do we still have the information about where she’s working?”

“It’s in my writing desk.”

Contrary to the rumors they’d spread, Nigel and Barbara were constantly aware of the twins’ situations.

“Just imagine it, Mother. I’ll have Trent’s money, and I’ll have Grandfather’s money, too. We’ll be back on track in a snap.” “I’m so relieved.” Barbara preened. “What a smart, clever boy you are!”

She pulled him into a tight hug and ruffled his hair as if he was still a lad in short pants.

“Find her!” Bentley Struthers seethed. “Find her and bring her to me.”

“Where would you like me to search?”

“How the hell should I know? You claim to be a detective, Mr. Radley. How about doing some
detecting?”

“I plan to. It would simply help to have some idea of where to begin. She’ll hide out, but where would she go? Does she have relatives in the city? Friends? Acquaintances? A beau?”

“She was a housemaid! She meant no more to me than a gnat. I know nothing about her.”

“I’ll need to question your staff.”

“You do that.”

“From the looks of things”—Radley scrutinized Bentley’s cuts and bruises, the stitched gash on his cheek, the black and blue eyes—“she appears to be dangerous. I’ll have to hire extra men to guarantee she doesn’t hurt anyone else.”