A Rival Heir (5 page)

Sir Hugh quickly replaced his frown with a convivial smile. “Nothing whatsoever, Hopkins. In fact, I believe she is in rare form, though she wasn’t at home just now.”

“Never knew anyone like Emily,” his friend confessed, giving his walking stick a flamboyant twirl. “Gad, I wish she hadn’t been snapped up so quickly. Might have had a try for her myself.”

Sir Hugh regarded Hopkins with undisguised suspicion. “Since when have you gotten into the petticoat line?”

“Well, I’m not, in the ordinary way of things, but your sister makes a man reconsider.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Sir Hugh muttered. “She’d have led you a merry dance.”

“I dare say.” Hopkins grinned at the baronet. “But that’s a deal more interesting than finding oneself leg-shackled to some prissy miss who wants to spend the rest of her life keeping house in the country!”

“Truly a fate worse than death,” agreed Sir Hugh. “Where are you headed, Hopkins?”

“Thought I’d take a look at Parton’s new pair. Did you hear he won them from Lord Westwick?”

Sir Hugh’s brows rose. “When did this happen?”

“Night before last. Some deep play at one of those cozy gaming houses in George Street. You’ve probably been there—a Mrs. Borman’s.”

The baronet shook his head. “Not that I recall. Westwick seems to have lost his rudder since his wife died. He’s only just out of mourning, isn’t he?”

“Not something I keep track of,” Hopkins admitted. “But, now you mention it, he has been behaving oddly. Thought it was just his age.”

“He can’t be much above sixty.”

“I should live so long! Probably too old to be handling those grays, anyway.”

Sir Hugh shook his head in disagreement. “He’s as spry as you are, my friend, at twice your age. I watched him guide that pair through a very sticky set of circumstances not two months ago. Very clever and skilled, indeed.”

“If you say so. Don’t really know the man myself. But Parton won the grays right and tight. He had all the cards that night. And Westwick was a bit foxed, if you ask me.”

“Too bad. I think he bred the grays himself.”

“Well, are you coming with me or not?” Hopkins asked, impatient to be off.

Sir Hugh would have enjoyed the diversion, but he was not particularly fond of Parton. Seeing the grays in his possession would do nothing to uplift his spirits. “I have business at home. Another time.”

“Can’t think why you should put business before pleasure, my dear fellow,” complained Hopkins. “Happen I’ll see you later at the rooms.”

“No doubt. Emily has insisted on my escorting her.”

Hopkins grinned. “Famous. Ask her to save a set for me.”

“Oh, no. You’ll have to ask her yourself when we get there.”

“A lot of help you are,” Hopkins grumbled as he strolled off toward town.

* * * *

Despite Emily’s earlier instructions via a much underscored note to her brother, she was not dressed for an evening out at the ballroom when Sir Hugh arrived for dinner. He raised his brows at the decorousness of her gown—a short tunic of white crepe over green sarcenet—as he raised her hand to his lips. “Charming, my dear Emily, but hardly what I expected to see you wearing. Are we not adjourning to the assembly rooms?”

“I hadn’t a moment to send you a note, Hugh. Forgive me!”

“But you did send me a note, Emily. And it very emphatically informed me that I was to escort you out this evening.”

“No, I meant a second note. You see, Hugh, I ran into Lord Westwick this afternoon and have invited him to dine with us.”

“Westwick? Hopkins was just speaking of him—lost his grays in a bet, I understand.”

“I think it was disgraceful of Mr. Parton to take such advantage of him,” his sister said, giving a decided toss to her dark curls. “The poor man is still terribly bereaved.”

“Then perhaps he shouldn’t have been gambling, my dear.”

“Depend upon it, Parton is to blame. I haven’t the slightest doubt. Do you know the man, Hugh? He’s a very disagreeable fellow, and ugly to boot.”

Sir Hugh regarded his sister with amusement. “Well, he is certainly deserving of your censure if he is ugly, Emily. How dare he?”

“Oh, pooh. You know what I mean. He sneers and smirks and acts as though he’s king of the world.”

“A very irritating habit, I admit.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Your inviting Westwick to dine did not perhaps involve my assisting him in any way to regain his pair, did it, Emily?”

“No, no, of course not. That is hardly your responsibility.” Emily seated herself on the edge of a fragile chair, clasped her hands together, and bent toward him. “I have a plan.”

“Oh, God. Spare me, my dearest sister. You know very well what straits your plans have always led you into.”

“No! How can you say so? Why, only last year I devised the cleverest scheme for enticing Anna’s nursery maid away from her, and it has worked admirably. You’ve met the girl. She’s wonderful with Walter.”

“Indeed! Well, if it’s a plan for acquiring domestic help, I hardly believe I am the one in whom to confide.”

Emily grimaced. “I assure you it isn’t. It is a plan to recover your inheritance.”

“Ah! I did not know that I’d lost it.” He cocked his head at her, more interested than he had hitherto acknowledged. “Did you discover something of importance when you shamelessly invaded the enemy’s territory, Emily?”

She uttered a deep, expressive sigh. “That poor girl says she believes you to be Miss Longstreet’s heir.”

“But you don’t believe her.”

“As to that, I’m not sure. Let us say that Miss Longstreet has probably never indicated a change in her plans, so Miss Armstrong is bound to believe that her aunt intends to abide by her original intention.”

“You know, Emily, I fear that you must certainly have offended Miss Armstrong by your rampant curiosity. She was equivocal when I called this afternoon to take my godmother the Peerage. We have no right, you or I, to inquire into my expectations on that front.”

“Perhaps not, and I wouldn’t think of doing so, save that I know how important such an inheritance must be to you, with Fallings under a burden.” 

“That has nothing to say to the case. Miss Longstreet is entirely at liberty to dispose of her property as she sees fit. If she wishes to endow her companion, why, one cannot wonder at it.”

“Oh, she’s a dreadful old woman!” Emily exclaimed. “Rude and overbearing, with no appreciation of children whatsoever. She’d probably give her property to a lunatic asylum if the idea occurred to her.”

Hugh laughed. “Then don’t suggest it, my dear.”

“I shan’t. And poor Miss Armstrong. She hasn’t a penny of her own to boast of.”

“I thought you were convinced that her aunt intends to endow her with all her worldly goods.”

His sister frowned. “She should, of course.” And then she looked guilt-stricken and thrust her hands out to her brother. “Oh, Hugh, I don’t mean that you shouldn’t have her property. You most certainly should. But if it comes to you, you must be certain to do something for that poor girl. How strange that her grandfather made not the slightest provision for her!”

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Bad blood there, between the parents and the daughter, but that is no excuse to leave one of your own without a feather to fly with.”

“And, Hugh,” Emily said urgently, “you will not credit this, but Miss Longstreet and her niece do not go to the assemblies at all.”

“A tragedy indeed,” he remarked with a sad shake of his head and a wicked gleam in his eyes. “But you know, Emily, Miss Armstrong may not care for such things. And she may not have the proper costumes.”

“Oh, I never thought of that! Of course she wouldn’t. It is the most provoking thing. She is so much taller than I that I cannot offer to share my gowns with her.”

“I trust you wouldn’t embarrass her by doing any such thing!” he protested.

“Really, Hugh, you have so little faith in me!”

The sound of the knocker reached them and she gave a tsk of annoyance. “Dear me, Lord Westwick is here already. I fear I shall have to tell you of my plan later. Just remember not to say anything disagreeable about Miss Longstreet.”

Sir Hugh regarded her with astonishment, but was prevented from replying by the advent of his sister’s butler announcing her guest.

As Sir Hugh had informed his friend Hopkins such a short while ago, Lord Westwick was anything but a decrepit old man. The gentleman who entered the room was full of vigor and sharp-eyed intelligence. Not much above average height, he was yet an impressive figure with a stately bearing and easy manners. Sir Hugh could see that Lord Westwick had a fondness for Emily, for his eyes twinkled as he brought her hand to his lips.

“Enchanted, madam! How delighted I was to have your invitation. And a chance to meet Sir Hugh again,” he added as he turned to the baronet. “I regret only that Mr. Holmsly is out of town.”

“Yes, it is very provoking of him,” Emily agreed. “But one cannot wait for him to be here; one would see no one at all!”

“My sister exaggerates,” Sir Hugh interposed. “I saw Holmsly on Monday.”

“Yes, I had a word with him at the Pump Room myself the other day,” Lord Westwick admitted. “Capital fellow.”

“So they tell me,” Emily muttered. But then her good spirits revived, as they inevitably did, and she added, “After dinner, if he is awake, I will have the nursery maid bring Walter down. I don’t believe you’ve seen our son as yet, Lord Westwick.”

“No, and I should very much like to.” The older man seated himself beside Emily on the red satin-covered sofa. “I don’t get out and about as much as I did when Sophie was alive. She was of a much more sociable nature than I. But in her company I could become passably affable myself.”

“It is most always the women who are the more sociable, I think,” Emily said. “Except perhaps for Hugh’s godmother. Now there is a decidedly unsociable woman!”

Lord Westwick cocked an inquisitive brow at Sir Hugh, who found it necessary to explain. “My godmother has come to Bath and she was not as enchanted with Emily’s little son as my sister might have wished. So beware! When he is brought down you will have to praise him to the skies to win her approbation.”

“It is nothing of the sort! I do not expect everyone to find Walter as delightful as I do, but she told me I would have to remove him if he cried. Imagine!”

“Delicate nerves, no doubt,” Lord Westwick suggested, but with a quiver at the corner of his mouth.

Emily appeared to consider this for a moment before she responded, “Perhaps that is it. She has, after all, had so little contact with children and is accustomed to the peaceful atmosphere of her home in the country.”

Hugh could not guess what she was about, but he felt certain he would not approve if he could. And Emily was not ready to drop the subject of his godmother. She turned to his lordship in a confiding way and said, “She has lived all her life in Westmorland, with scarcely a visit to London since she became a woman. Don’t you think that affects a person, living always in the country away from the sophistication and stimulation of a metropolis?”

“Not everyone wishes for either the sophistication or the stimulation,” Lord Westwick said thoughtfully. “Some people appreciate the slower pace of life. They feel an attachment to the land, and enjoy the simple pleasures to be found there.”

“Well, I am sure I love residing in the country, but I would be most unhappy if I were never to get to Bath or London at all! I should become dull as ditchwater.”

“That would not be possible,” Lord Westwick informed her gallantly. “But your many admirers would be devastated if you didn’t alight in town every so often.”

Emily sighed. “Holmsly felt Bath would be preferable to London for a change of scene. It is not so overpowering—there is not so much noise or so many people or so much excitement. And I must admit that it is easy to get everywhere. One isn’t forever calling for the carriage, except for evening entertainments. Even Hugh’s godmother seems to walk everywhere, despite the hills and the traffic.”

“I’m fond of walking myself,” Lord Westwick said. He turned to the baronet and asked, “Do I know your godmother, Sir Hugh? She sounds an adventurous woman.”

“She comes from much the same area of the country as you, Lord Westwick—Westmorland. Her name is Rosemarie Longstreet.”

The earl’s face underwent a decided change in color, and for a moment Sir Hugh thought that he had choked on something, though neither food nor drink were to hand. All the vivacity that had been there disappeared, and a wary, uncomfortable expression took its place. In a grave voice he said, “I do know Miss Longstreet.”

Emily’s mischievous grin peeked out. “Obviously you know her well,” she teased.

“I don’t understand,” the earl replied, his tone cool.

Sir Hugh very much feared that his sister had once again taken a bold misstep. “My sister means,” he offered in a soothing voice, “that my godmother is a bit of a curmudgeon. Almost anyone who encounters her comes away with a decided—ah—impression, shall we say, of her cantankerous nature.”

The color began to creep back into Lord Westwick’s cheeks. “I see. Well, I have not had the pleasure of encountering her for many, many years, and she was not the least bit cantankerous as a young woman.” He frowned and said, “I did encounter two women in the street outside my residence this morning—a rather tall young lady and an older lady whom I confess looked familiar. I could not place them, but now I think on it, the elder lady might have been Miss Longstreet. If so, she’s much changed.” He frowned, abstracted.

“The young one would have been Miss Armstrong, the niece and companion,” Emily said, recalling his attention.

“Margaret’s daughter?”

Sir Hugh was beginning to realize that Lord Westwick knew the Longstreets very well indeed. “Yes, I believe her mother’s name was Margaret. I never met her myself, for she had made an alliance of which the family did not approve and she was banished from their family circle. But the Armstrongs have been dead for some years now, and their daughter resides with my godmother.”

“I see.” Lord Westwick stared down at his hands for a moment and then added, “I’m sorry to hear of Margaret’s death. I presume the elder Longstreets are gone, too. I’m afraid I haven’t kept up with the news from Westmorland.”