The Elusive Heiress (3 page)

Heaven help her, she must be going mad!

The arrival of the footman bearing a silver tray on which reposed a moisture-beaded jug of fresh lemonade broke the awkward silence.

The tension still lingering in the air was dispelled and Lord Redesmere became the perfect host, seeing to it that his guest’s glass was filled and tempting her to try a sample of his cook’s excellent baking.

Randal was glad of the diversion. He had been on the point of behaving like an absolute fool and he didn’t care to think on it!

‘If my clumsy attempt at humour upset you, I apologise,’ he announced gruffly once the footman departed. ‘I did not mean to alarm you with a threat of violence.’

She murmured a slightly incoherent denial, assuring him that she had known he was speaking in jest.

Randal set his empty glass down on a nearby kingwood tripod table and, determined not to relax his guard a second time, said, ‘In that case, if you are feeling restored, may we return to the subject under discussion?’

A nod of her sable curls answered him.

Steepling his fingers together in a thoughtful gesture, Randal stared at the brass trellage bookcases lining the wall. ‘My great-uncle had precise views concerning the disposal of his fortune. When he asked me to be his executor he stipulated that I must adhere strictly to his instructions. I was not entirely happy with all of his conditions, but I agreed and promised him I would do my best to see that his wishes were carried out.’

Abandoning his air of contemplation, he gave her a direct look. ‘Naturally, I am prepared to relinquish my own claim to the rightful legatee, but honour demands I ensure the terms of the will are met before I hand over a single penny.’

Fright restored her wits. What did he mean by
rightful
?

‘I commend your vigilance, my lord,’ she said crisply. ‘However, I will not deny it is a relief to hear that you do not intend to dispute my claim, for, frankly, I have no desire to stay in England. The sooner the details are settled and the money is mine, the sooner I shall be able to return home.’

‘Don’t you mean to visit your Irish connections first?’ he asked softly.

She could feel the colour rushing into her cheeks and to give herself time to think she took a slow sip of lemonade.

‘Or perhaps you have already been to Dublin, eh ma’am?’

His deep voice held a note of silken mockery that set her teeth on edge. Damn him, how much did he know or was he just guessing?

‘What…what do you mean?’ She strove for composure, but apprehension sent a chill shivering down her spine.

Randal did not immediately answer her, but instead rose to his feet and crossing to the handsome oak library table set in the centre of the room, picked up a letter which lay upon its polished surface.

‘This came two days ago.’ He leant back, propping his lean hips against the edge of the table. ‘Shall I read it to you?’

‘Your correspondence can be of no interest to me, sir,’ she retorted with a frown of faintly irritated puzzlement, but her heart was thumping.

‘Not even when it comes from Mr Gerald Sullivan and his wife?’

The blood drained from her face leaving her pale once more, but, rallying quickly, she gave a scornful laugh.

‘If my uncle has written to you, then I’ll wager it is to censure me and I most certainly have no wish to hear any more of his complaints!’

Thrown off balance, Randal frowned. ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you had been to stay with the Sullivans?’

She raised her thin brows. ‘I was not aware I needed to account to you for my every move.’

‘Believe me, it is necessary,’ he said grimly.

‘Oh very well!’ She gave an impatient shrug. ‘If you must know, the ship on which I sailed was Irish-owned. The captain wished to make landfall in Dublin and it seemed logical to visit Papa’s relatives before proceeding on to England.’

‘There were no children from my great-uncle’s second marriage,’ Randal intervened. ‘Ellie Sullivan was already a widow with a young son when they met. He agreed to treat Gerald as his own, but he never adopted him formally.’

‘Nonetheless, Papa regarded Gerald as his brother!’ She allowed her annoyance free rein for an instant. ‘Mama wanted me to pay my respects. Unfortunately, my visit to Ballyhad House was not a success.’

The vivid blue eyes narrowed. ‘Pray explain, ma’am.’

Deciding she did not dare risk taking affront at his brusque tone, she complied. ‘It is simple, sir. My arrival came as an unpleasant surprise. Perhaps you can afford to be philosophical about losing a fortune, but it appears that my uncle Gerald is not a rich man. I had no idea his finances were in such a sorry state or I might have realised how much he would resent me.’

She sighed. ‘I suppose things might have been easier if Grandfather had left him a more generous bequest instead of a mere hundred pounds.’

Randal silently agreed with her shrewd observation. He had tried to persuade his great-uncle to change his mind, but the old man had thought Gerald a frippery fellow.

‘Nay, lad, I don’t trust that rogue,’ John Nixon had gasped, wheezing for breath as his last illness had tightened its hold. ‘Many’s the time I had to rescue him from his gambling debts to dry his mother’s tears and I warned him he’d had the last penny off me when I packed him back to Ireland after her funeral. I paid him off handsomely to stay there and trouble me no longer. He’s no cause to complain.’

All that he would agree to was Randal’s insistent suggestion that a codicil be added to the will, stating that if Kitty Nixon failed to collect her legacy, then Gerald Sullivan was to be paid a further sum of £10,000 out of the estate before it passed to Randal.

‘Call it a sop to my conscience, sir,’ Randal had insisted with a wry smile. ‘I don’t want the fellow to think I abused my position to cheat him.’

A silvery laugh penetrated Lord Redesmere’s recollection and he saw that his visitor’s mood had lightened and her enchanting countenance now wore a rueful grin.

‘It was an excessively uncomfortable situation, sir! I was made to feel my grandfather’s peculiar will was all my fault! What with Aunt Moira lamenting that they would end in debtors’ prison and my uncle’s sulks I hardly knew where to look!’

She turned a limpidly innocent gaze on him. ‘I couldn’t wait to leave!’

In spite of himself, Lord Redesmere’s finely moulded lips twitched. ‘You paint a masterly picture, ma’am.’

She laughed, a low throaty chuckle of wicked amusement, and Randal had to steel himself against her charm.

Blister it, why did he have to find her so attractive!

‘Well, sir, are you satisfied now?’ She tilted her head at him enquiringly. ‘I dare say Uncle Gerald is miffed about my sudden departure from his house. It was unforgivably rude of me to run off without so much as a goodbye, but he must take his share of the blame.’

The pure line of her jaw hardened. ‘I never meant to raise false hopes in anyone, but I
am
here now and if you are finished with your questions, I should like to get on with the business. I assume the lawyers have papers for me to sign?’

He shook his fair head, the last traces of amusement fading from his expression. ‘I’m afraid you go too fast, ma’am. There is something else we must discuss first.’

The grim note in his voice caused her heart to skip a beat, but she forced a smile. ‘Heavens, not more questions, my lord! Haven’t I explained everything already?’

‘Not quite.’ Randal straightened to his full height and walked back across the room. Halting before her chair he looked down at her. ‘I do have one final question.’

Searching her lovely face, he looked deep into her dark eyes. ‘Who are you?’

‘My lord? I…I don’t understand. Is this another of your strange jokes?’ In spite of her best efforts, a little quaver shook her voice.

Hearing it, Randal knew his suspicions were correct.

‘I do not find this funny, sir!’ Worried by his silence, she broke into rapid speech. ‘You know I am your second cousin. We share the same great-grandparents and—’

‘Stop!’ He made the demand with an abrupt authoritative gesture of his hand and she reluctantly obeyed.

‘This game has gone on long enough. You have been well schooled, ma’am, but it is pointless to continue.’

‘Game? I think you have run mad, sir!’ Fighting off the terrifying nausea which threatened to overwhelm her, she struggled to marshal her wits.

Ignoring her protest, Randal tossed the letter he was still holding into her lap. ‘Read it.’

Sheer willpower enabled her to break free from his authority and disobey this command. Flinging the letter down onto the rich carpet, she glared at him angrily. ‘No! I’ve told you, I’m not interested in what he has to say.’

‘You should be.’ Randal’s voice was grim. ‘You see, Gerald Sullivan didn’t write to complain of Kitty Nixon’s behaviour. He wrote to inform me that she is dead. She drowned in River Liffey three weeks ago.’

Chapter Two

‘Detestable man! Leading me on in such an odiously underhand fashion! I swear he enjoyed every minute of my discomfiture!’

Kate Devlin threw herself back against the dingy squabs of the hired chaise, a frown distorting the exquisite beauty of her face.

‘Not one single shred of mourning to warn us. Does the man lack all sense of family feeling? If he thought Kitty dead, why didn’t he display at least a modicum of grief?’ Her rich contralto voice crackled with rage.

‘Perhaps he thought it would seem hypocritical,’ Mary Porter suggested quietly. ‘Him not having seen her since she was a baby, I mean.’

‘It would suit him if she was dead. He stands to inherit her fortune! Come to think on it, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in league with Sullivan.’

‘Calm down, Kate. You know you shouldn’t make such wild accusations without proof.’ Mary’s broad face creased into disapproving lines.

‘Bah!’ Kate snorted inelegantly.

Mary hid a smile. It was no use scolding the lass. Kate Devlin was wholehearted in everything she did. Without her enthusiasm, their plan would never have got this far, but it was a pity she had decided to take his lordship in dislike.

‘We ought to be deciding our next move,’ she reminded her young companion gently.

Kate emerged from her brooding and took a long, calming breath. ‘You’re right as usual, Mary,’ she sighed. ‘But it goes against the grain to let him think he has won!’

‘I reckon Redesmere is as shrewd as he can hold together.’ Mary scratched her chin thoughtfully. ‘Maybe we ought to abandon the attempt?’

‘No! I’m damned if I’m going to let that…that interfering oaf prevent us from helping Kitty.’

Wisely, Mary said no more. She had argued against the whole crazy scheme from the beginning, but Kate’s soft heart had been touched by Kitty Nixon’s plight and once she got an idea into that stubborn head of hers then Old Nick himself couldn’t shift it.

A silence fell between them. Kate stared blindly out of the dusty window, too preoccupied to notice the bone-shaking of the old chaise as it rattled down the narrow country lane.

She had told the coachman to convey them away from Crawford Hall with all possible speed. Unfortunately, she couldn’t shake off the memory of her interview with Randal Crawford so easily.

How she had longed to slap that mocking expression off his handsome face! She hadn’t been able to think of a single thing to say after he had dropped that bombshell in her lap. The tide of embarrassed colour which had flooded her cheeks hadn’t helped.

By the time she had recovered her nerve he was ringing for the footman to escort her out.

Rising to her feet she had met this reversal of fortune with dignity.

‘You will find, sir,’ she had informed him coolly, ‘that my uncle is mistaken. I am Kitty Nixon and I can prove it.’

‘You will have to.’ His expression had hardened, the blue gaze raking her up and down with obvious contempt. ‘But I would advise you not to try.’

Ignoring the
frisson
of alarm that made her knees quake, Kate tilted her chin at him defiantly. ‘Is that a threat, my lord?’

‘Consider it a warning,’ came his silky reply.

Forgetting her haughty pose, she glared at him. ‘You, sir, are a bully,’ she declared hotly.

To her fury he had burst out laughing.

‘And you, ma’am, are an adventuress,’ he riposted with a smile that dripped mockery.

‘How dare you—’

‘No. Don’t bother to deny it.’ He silenced her protests with an easy gesture of one well-kept hand. ‘Accept your
conge
, gracefully, m’dear. Otherwise…’ He gave a significant shrug.

Kate understood him perfectly. ‘Don’t worry. I will go quietly,’ she snapped back with vicious irony. ‘But you needn’t imagine this is the end of the matter. I intend to take my claim to the lawyers.’

His brows drew together in a quick frown at her reply.

Stupidly, Kate found herself noticing how much darker they were than his hair. Like the long thick lashes that framed his vivid eyes, their colour was a deep brown.

‘That, ma’am, must be your choice.’

The cold anger in his voice immediately put paid to Kate’s wool-gathering and she tensed.

‘But be sure you understand the consequences. Next time I might not find your impudence so amusing.’

The arrival of the footman to escort her to the waiting carriage had been timely. Another moment in Randal Crawford’s company and Kate might have exploded!

Fiend seize the fellow! What was it about him that could set her all on edge? He was very handsome to be sure with those strong, well-cut features and that tall, lithe body, but she was hardly a green girl whose head could be easily turned. Once perhaps…but that was a long time ago.

A little shiver ran through her slender frame. Her nerves must be in a worse state than she thought. Recalling the past was an idiotic waste of time. Her folly was best forgotten. Dead and buried like Francis.

‘Are you all right, lass?’ Mary asked anxiously. ‘You look as if you had seen a ghost.’

Kate swallowed down the bitter mixture of regret and sorrow that threatened to choke her whenever she thought of her late husband and turning back to her companion managed a slight smile.