Secret Heiress (2 page)

Betty smiled when she went through to the kitchen. ‘Have you written your letters?'

‘Yes, I have. I shall walk down to the estate office with them now—unless you need me?'

‘There is nothing for you to do,' Betty assured her. ‘It is a nice afternoon and the walk will do you good.'

 

A few minutes later, Eliza set out for the earl's estate office. It was not too far, for the Wrights' cottage was on the Standish estate and the morning was pleasantly warm. Eliza liked to walk whenever she could, though she had had little opportunity the previous summer when her mother was first ill, and had been making the most of this one. In consequence, her complexion was not as pale as it had been.

Perhaps because she was dreaming a little, she did not become aware of the horseman until he was almost on her. Startled, she turned to see the great black stallion racing towards her at speed, so she threw herself to the side of the narrow road, landing on her hands and knees in a bramble bush.

‘Damn you, sir! I said whoa,' a voice cried loudly. She heard more cursing and a horse neighing as if in protest as it was reined in, then, moments later, ‘Forgive me, miss. My mind was elsewhere and I was not thinking that someone might be around that bend in the lane.'

Eliza rose to her feet as a gentleman in riding dress bent over her. He gave her his hand to steady her and she blushed as she found herself looking up into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He stood head and shoulders above her and Eliza considered herself tall for a woman. The stranger was broad shouldered and of a powerful build; she thought him one of the handsomest men she had met.

‘I…was dreaming myself,' she confessed. ‘Had I heard you sooner, I should have moved out of your way, sir. I trust your horse has suffered no harm?'

‘That is generously said.' The gentleman smiled at
her, a hint of relief in those devastating eyes. ‘Are you hurt, Miss…? Forgive me, I do not know your name.'

‘I am Eliza Bancroft,' she replied and her cheeks were pink as he continued to hold her hand for longer than necessary. ‘I grazed my hands as I fell, but they will soon mend.'

‘May I see your hands?' He turned her hands over and saw the slight graze on the right one and the spot of blood. Bending his head, he licked the wound with his tongue, sending a spasm of shock and incredible feeling curling through her. Eliza jerked and removed her hand from his grasp instantly. He looked surprised, then conscious, as if just realising what he had done. ‘Forgive me. I meant nothing wrong. My mother always said that licking the wound took the sting away. I have nothing to help you—unless my neckcloth as a bandage…'

‘No! It is not necessary,' she said, feeling embarrassed by her feelings, which were quite inappropriate. ‘Thank you, I shall be home soon enough and my friend Betty will tend my hand for me, though I think it is no more than a scratch from the bramble.'

His eyes seemed to burn into her for long moments, then, ‘My apologies, Miss Bancroft. My mind was elsewhere. I am on my way to visit my uncle. He is expecting me and I did not wish to be late…' He hesitated, as if unsure of what to do next. ‘If there is anything I can do…?'

‘No, sir,' she replied instantly. ‘I am perfectly able to manage alone, thank you. Pray continue. I should not wish to make you late for your appointment.'

‘Standish is a testy old devil at times, but he has been ill and I am anxious about him, so I should go…' He seemed unwilling to leave her, but in quite a hurry.

‘Yes, of course, please do,' Eliza replied. ‘I would not keep you. I am perfectly able to continue.'

‘If only every lady were as forgiving,' he said and, then belatedly, ‘My name is Daniel Seaton, Miss Bancroft. I am happy to make your acquaintance. Perhaps another time…'

Eliza was not sure what he meant by that. She inclined her head, dipping a curtsy as he caught the reins and swung up into the saddle, smiling at her once more before giving the horse its head.

Her heart beat faster than normal as she watched the handsome stranger ride off down the lane at a rather more sedate pace. If the earl was his uncle, then he was a man of some rank and would not be interested in the daughter of a parson. His remark could mean nothing. Indeed, it was much better if he had been mouthing a mere politeness, because any attentions from a gentleman of quality would be of the wrong kind.

The earl sometimes held house parties and in the past her mama had warned her not to go walking alone when young gentlemen were staying up at the big house.

‘You would not encourage their attentions, my love,' Mrs Bancroft had told her more than once. ‘Yet you are attractive enough to arouse the interest of wild young bucks and they are not to be trusted.'

Eliza's instincts told her that Daniel Seaton, as he had named himself, was perhaps the kind of gentleman her mama had warned her of. He had been perfectly polite and behaved respectably enough, apart from the incident when he had licked her hand. No gentleman would do that to a respectable young woman of his own class, but as the daughter of a clergyman she was fair game! She knew that the earl's own son had been both wild and reckless, and he was reputed to have had low morals and
had been fond of romping with farm or tavern wenches and drinking a great deal, which was why his violent death while out riding had not been a surprise to the local people. Still, Ted had told them that the earl had been devastated by his son's death and was only half the man he had been before it.

Eliza felt sad for the earl, whom she knew only by slight acquaintance, having seen him at church and the fête that was held once a year in his gardens, as well as a Christmas party he gave for his neighbours. Her papa had been invited to dine occasionally, as the parish priest, but the earl had ceased to entertain in the months following his son's death. It was a terrible thing to lose his only son, though he had a daughter who had given him two young grandsons.

She supposed that one of his grandsons would inherit both the title and the estate, though both were still in leading strings. If the earl were to die before they were grown…but he was only in his late middle years and would surely live until he was sixty at least?

Seeing the estate office ahead of her, she put the thought out of her mind and increased her pace.

 

‘It was good of you to come down again so soon, Daniel,' the earl said and sighed heavily. ‘Will you take a glass of madeira with me before nuncheon?'

‘If it is that excellent stuff you usually keep, I shall be delighted, sir,' Daniel said and smiled at his mother's brother. He was fond of his uncle, which was one of the reasons he refused to burden him with financial problems. ‘How are you, sir?'

‘Not too clever, Daniel.' The earl passed him a glass of the rich wine. ‘I'm not sure I shall live long enough to see my grandchildren grow to manhood.' He held up
his hand as Daniel would have protested. ‘No, don't deny it. My heart took a knock when Marcus was killed…'

‘He would not want you to grieve too hard, sir. Marcus cared for you deeply.'

‘Did he? I am not sure…once, perhaps, but we had grown apart of late. He seemed odd, as though something was on his mind.' The earl sighed heavily. ‘I know the lad sowed his wild oats and I cannot approve of things he did, but he was my son. If he had asked for my help, I would have given it.'

‘I have spoken to Cheadle, sir. He tells me that you settled my cousin's gambling debt immediately?'

‘The damned fellow approached me before my son was cold in his grave. I dislike that man intensely, Daniel.'

‘I, too,' Daniel agreed. ‘I played a hand with him at my club. He lost heavily that night and was forced to give me this.' Daniel took a ring from his pocket and showed the earl. ‘He asked me to keep it and intends to redeem it at his earliest convenience. I shall of course oblige him.'

‘I am surprised that you played with him after what happened to your father?'

‘I was not drunk, neither was I desperate. I know my limits and when to rise from the table. I had my reasons, sir.'

‘I dare say you did.' The earl looked at him through narrowed eyes. ‘Did Marcus approach you for help? The young fool! He should have come to me immediately.'

‘He did not wish to distress you, sir. He sent me a letter. It was waiting at my club. I did not discover it until I went to visit my lawyer recently.'

‘Your father left a damned mess for you, Daniel. You have only to ask if you need help.'

‘Thank you, sir. I know it, but I believe I shall manage. I thought I might sell the London house, but for the moment I shall let it to tenants. I shall not be able to afford to visit London much until I have the estate on an even keel again.'

‘You won't tell me, but I dare say your father took a mortgage.' The earl nodded as Daniel remained silent. ‘Not my business—but you might look for an heiress? If she suits you and her father is on the catch for a title you might save yourself years of penny pinching. Besides, you will wish to marry in a year or two, if not now.'

‘Yes, perhaps.' Daniel laughed ruefully. ‘Marry a fortune to pay my debts—that would be a little hard on the young woman, do you not think so?'

‘It is often the case that a young woman of fortune has little else to commend her to a husband. Look for a plain chit, my boy, and she will be grateful to you. She will give you a couple of sons and then you may both live as you please. It is done all the time.'

‘I know you are right, sir, but I shall try to sort my problems myself if I can.'

‘Well, you don't need advice from me.' The earl frowned, suddenly seeming very toubled. ‘It was odd the way Marcus died… His groom told me that he found a sore beneath the saddle when he groomed the wretched beast, which might explain why a man who was an excellent rider fell and broke his neck. I just can't understand how it happened. He should not have taken the horse out in such a state—though Jed swears there was nothing there when he saddled up that morning. If something caused the horse to chafe, it must have got there between Marcus leaving home and returning that evening. He had, of course, been drinking in the village
inn, though I have been told he was not drunk when he left.'

‘Is the groom still in your employ, sir?'

‘No, he left me a week or two back. Lives in the village, name of Jed Bailey—why?'

‘Marcus was a damned good rider, but something must have made his horse bolt the way it did…' Daniel frowned, remembering his cousin's confusing letter ‘The coroner brought in a verdict of misadventure. Is there any reason to think there might have been foul play? ‘

‘None then and none now,' the earl admitted. ‘Marcus was in with a bad crowd, though I do not know who they were—but I sensed he was hiding something from me.'

‘I should like your permission to investigate a little, sir.'

The earl looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You know something I don't, of course. Don't want to tell me?'

‘I know very little, sir—but I intend to find out.'

‘Take care, then. If whoever was behind what happened to Marcus learns you are poking your nose in, he won't stop there. I would rather nothing happened to you, Daniel.'

‘I shall be on my guard. Besides, there may be nothing in it.'

‘You wouldn't be bothering to investigate if you thought that. Is Cheadle behind this, Daniel?'

‘What makes you think that, sir?'

‘No reason. Just don't trust the man.'

‘Well, neither do I—but I don't think him a murderer. He may be ruthless at cards, perhaps even a cheat, though he played fair with me the other night—but I doubt he was involved in my cousin's death.'

‘Well, I wish you good luck, but don't get killed, my
boy. I am relying on you to guide my heir if I pop off before he is old enough to manage the estate.'

‘I shall be delighted to help young Paul if I can.'

‘That was my hope. You will tell me whatever you discover?'

‘Of course. When I am certain.'

‘You have no immediate plans for marriage, I take it?'

‘None at the moment, sir. I am not sure any young woman would put up with me. I have little to offer.'

The earl shook his head. ‘Do not put yourself down, my boy. Walk down to the estate office with me, Daniel. I have a building project I should like your advice on.'

‘Willingly.' Daniel set his glass down. ‘I shall be pleased to see your plans for the new cottages.'

 

‘Well, Miss Eliza, so we shall be losing you soon.' Mr Jones, the estate manager, smiled at her as she explained her reason for bringing in the letter. ‘But you will enjoy living in Bath or London, I dare say—more life for you there than here, I imagine.'

‘I like being in the country, sir,' Eliza replied. ‘I shall miss my friends here, but it is time I started to support myself.'

‘Mrs Jones would have taken you at the house if there were a mistress,' the manager said. ‘I had a word with her a while ago, but there was only menial work and she didn't think it right that Parson Bancroft's daughter should scrub floors. She will be very pleased to learn you are to apply for a position as a companion to a lady. She was only saying last night that it was what you ought to do.'

‘That was kind of her,' Eliza replied. She knew the estate manager had let her have the cottage for longer
than he truly ought, because there were estate workers needing a place to live. ‘Give your wife my good wishes, sir. I should get back now. I want to give Betty a hand with the garden.'

‘I'll send your letters later this afternoon,' Ted Wright promised. ‘Take care now, lass.'

‘Yes, I shall,' Eliza said and opened the door to leave. She was startled by the arrival of two gentlemen who had been about to enter, flushing as she saw the earl and the man whose horse had almost knocked her down earlier. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord.'