The Mysterious Heir (6 page)

It would be a grand adventure, she told herself, as she tucked herself up into her own bed for the last time in the knowable future. Uncle had said she could hold her head high, for her own birth and bearing were of the finest. And she had a case of new clothes and a mission to carry out. Why, then, she thought sleepily, with all those riches and all that opportunity, did she feel so very frightened and so very guilt-stricken?

4

Elizabeth examined Anthony covertly in the available lurching light that shone through the travel-stained windows of the coach. Yes, she thought finally, he'll do. His hair, his jacket, even his boots were correct to the last and least degree. There was no fault, she sighed, at least none that could be seen by the eye. Aye, that's the problem, she sighed again, leaning her weary head back and closing her own eyes. But then, that was in the hands of fate fully as much as in her own two neatly gloved members.

Anthony had been in excellent spirits throughout the long journey. While Elizabeth was nominally his keeper, in charge of both his baggage and his behavior, oddly enough it was Anthony who had taken charge at the White Hart in Derby and demanded more commodious rooms, and Anthony who had grown angry with the innkeeper at Stourbridge when he had discovered an overcharge on their luncheon bill. While Elizabeth knew more of the world than he did, by dint of her reading and her six years' majority, she had never traveled a mile farther than her junior cousin. She was by far the more reticent of the pair as well, for Anthony, having been absently indulged by three females since birth, was never one to let a slight go by. That prickliness of his served them well on their trip. All who encountered the impatient young gentleman and his attractive companion thought the pair Quality. Uncle's every shilling had been spent to create just that illusion.

Uncle's pocketbook had stretched to provide them clothes,
but even a magician could not have ferreted out one more coin after the cost of wayside accommodations for both the going and return journey had been calculated. Their fare cost nothing, as the local squire, with visions of Anthony as Earl of Auden, and with the omnipresent vision of his own unmarried daughter fixed firmly in his mind, gladly gave them the use of his coach and his cattle for the trip.

But for supposed scions of a fashionable family there was still a great deal they did not have. Thus what they did not have they were fully armed with excuses for. Elizabeth's fictitious maid was to be explained away as suffering from both coachsickness and homesickness to such a degree that she never made the journey past the town limits of Tuxford. Anthony's valet, that sentimental and imaginary fellow, had, of course, to be back in London seeing to his aunt's decent interment. Elizabeth, it was decided after a long night's conference, had never made her come-out in London, as her mother had been ailing and she had feared to leave her delicate mama for so long a time. And when Aunt Emily had protested that it was an unlucky sort of excuse, Elizabeth's mother had shushed her firmly by stating that if Anthony let a fortune slip through his fingers for superstition's sake they would all be a great deal unhealthier in future.

Elizabeth's head was so filled with admonitions, excuses, and outright lies that she feared to open her mouth lest the whole budget spill out unbidden. Anthony, although equally primed by Uncle, had an unusually devil-may-care attitude about him from the very moment of agreeing to the scheme. In fact, Elizabeth noted with dismay, he seemed to be wearing a perpetual smirk of self-satisfaction. It was that very sunny air of compliance that disturbed her even more. For she knew Anthony well, and it was not at all in his style.

But now she had no further time to worry, for the coach was at last turning in through a pair of iron gates and even Anthony sat up straighter as they proceeded down the long and stately drive toward Lyonshall. Elizabeth gave not one more thought to Anthony as her gaze took in the full splendor of the Earl's principal seat. There was a wide and well-manicured greensward where not one blade of grass dared presume to lift its head higher than its fellows at one turn; masses of purple rhododendrons that were so riotously profuse in their spring flowering that they colored the very air about them with an aura of lavender at another; and then finally, after passing what appeared to be a detachment of gardeners engaged in drilling a display of tulips and lilies to stand properly and not slouch as inferior blooms might tend to do, they caught sight of the great house itself.

Seeing its vast outline, its tall white form dominating the landscape, Elizabeth caught in her breath and frankly goggled. It was as well that she did not catch a glimpse of her cousin's face as he took his first look at the stately pile that might, if the fates were kind, someday be his. For she would have seen his lips form the words “disgraceful” and “parasite.”

By the time Anthony had aided her in descending from the coach and Elizabeth's legs were used again to firm unmoving ground beneath her, they had to ascend the marble steps. Before they could pause, they were shown into the great house itself. Breathless from the climb, and struck speechless by the vault of a front hall, scarcely able to register the beauty of her surroundings in the light flooding in through high stained-glass windows, Elizabeth could only mutely follow the butler who led them farther into what seemed to her to be the Earl's treasure cave of a mansion.

So it was that by the time she had given her bonnet and wrap to a footman and the polished oaken doors to the withdrawing room had swung open, Elizabeth was reduced to merely attempting to keep her composure so as not to present a picture of a gawking peasant to whoever awaited her within. Thus when the butler stentorianly announced “Mr. Anthony Courtney and Miss Elizabeth DeLisle,” the assembled company saw an unremarkable young man saunter in followed by a very attractive but very dazed-looking young woman. Indeed, the first feature of hers that anyone noticed was a pair of remarkable hazel eyes, as wide, but unfortunately also as blank, as saucers.

Anthony moved into the room as if he were indeed to the manner born. And as she followed, Elizabeth was aware of a group of people posed as if in tableau, in various indolent
positions in various parts of the room. They looked, she thought with despair, as intimidating and as unreal as figures from a fashion plate. The brightest spot of color in the room came from a grouping on an elegantly curved gold settee. There sat an exquisite little Dresden figure of a woman, looking in all her gold-and-pink splendor much like the very figurine poor Uncle had sold in order to purchase the stylish tea-colored walking dress Elizabeth now wore. Next to that blond vision of a female sat a small, plump boy, all done up to match the lady, even down to his golden ringlets and lacy cuffs. A tall gentleman sat in a maroon chair to the fair-haired couple's left; another exquisitely stylish-looking fellow with buff pantaloons and boots so shined they twinkled in the afternoon light stood near him, seemingly interrupted in midsentence by their arrival. And a tall, imposing man stood easily by the fireplace mantel, one hand upon a gold-tipped walking stick, the other cradling a tall snifter of brandy. Caught in that one frozen moment of interruption, they were all gazing at Anthony and Elizabeth with the liveliest curiosity. And for that one moment, Elizabeth had the mad impulse to simply drop a curtsy, pick up her skirts, and flee out the door, back to the coach, and back to her home again.

It was the tall man by the fireplace who first spoke in a slow, deep, rich voice. “Welcome, Cousin,” he said smoothly as Anthony came toward him. “You come in good time. We were just having some refreshment and conversation. Surely you will join us, and then you will have time enough to rest and shake off the dust of your journey before dinner.”

“We'd be happy to,” Anthony replied with what to Elizabeth seemed to be supernatural aplomb, and bowing slightly, he went on, “Sorry to arrive so late in the day, but there was some misunderstanding with the innkeeper at our last stop, and that delayed us. The fellow toted up a bill for us fit for a regimental banquet and then expected us to pay up without a whimper.”

Elizabeth winced inwardly at any mention of money and feared Anthony had instantly put a foot wrong, but in a moment the curly-haired exquisite with the miraculous boots spoke up eagerly. “Dashed impertinence,” he cried. “Those
fellows all seem to think that if you're dressed as a gentleman you're so well larded you'll pay anything without a blink. I hope you gave him a piece of your mind.”

“Oh, I did,” Anthony said, “and that's why we are so late.”

“Well, then, Cousin Anthony,” the tall man said, “come sit and tell us all about it, and, Cousin Elizabeth, come have a chair here as well, you must be weary from your journey. All the way from…Tuxford, wasn't it?”

As Elizabeth speechlessly sank into the chair the gentleman had indicated, Anthony accepted a glass from the curly-haired fellow, who seemed incapable of retaining one position for more than a few moments, and said carelessly, “Aye, Tuxford. But you've got it wrong. Elizabeth ain't your cousin, she's my cousin.”

“Well, never you mind, m'dear,” the curly-haired young man said as he handed Elizabeth a glass of some red liquid, which she grasped on to as though it were a lifeline, “for I ain't a cousin of anybody's at all. But, Morgan, if she's young Anthony's coz, surely she's got to be yours?”

“It would be an inestimable honor if she were indeed mine, Bev, but I don't think that's what you meant.” The tall man laughed. “Rest easy, Miss Elizabeth,” he added with an intent look toward her. “It's genealogy Bev's discussing.” Seeing Elizabeth's faint blush, the fair-haired woman gave a tinkling laugh. “Oh, Morgan, you are a one. See how you've discomposed poor Miss Elizabeth. No need to color up, my dear, it's only Cousin Morgan's way of joshing. Come, Morgan, Miss Elizabeth's clearly not used to such raillery.”

Since the other woman's tone seemed to imply, “See how you've upset the poor rustic, she's not used to more than the conversation of cows,” Elizabeth, to her further embarrassment, felt the more color flooding to her cheeks. She searched for an answer to turn the attention from herself, but before she could think of one, the tall gentleman seemed to take pity upon her and said swiftly, “But my wits have gone begging. We've pitchforked you both into a roomful of strangers. I'll remedy that in a moment. Cousin Anthony and non-Cousin
Elizabeth, allow me to introduce Lady Isabel Courtney and her son, Owen, from London.”

Lady Isabel smiled and placed her arm about her son, creating yet another “mother-and-child” set piece.

Gesturing toward the silent thin gentleman in the maroon chair, the speaker went on, “And this is Cousin Richard Courtney, also from London, and the noisy fellow with all the brandy at his elbow is, you'll be relieved to discover, just as he claimed, no cousin at all, but only a dear friend of the family, Sir Reginald Beverly, called ‘Bev' for friendship's sake. And I,” the tall gentleman concluded, with the merest tilt of his head, suggesting a bow, “am Charles Morgan Courtney, called ‘Morgan,' as there was once a surfeit of Charleses in our family.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Elizabeth murmured inadequately, but her answer was lost in a welter of “Delighteds” and “Charmeds” from all parts of the room.

Lord Beverly immediately began to engage Anthony in conversation, and Elizabeth relaxed as soon as she overheard they were discussing no more than the wicked way that local innkeepers sought to cheat travelers on room-and-board rates. Since Anthony stood staunchly against any kind of criminal behavior, save for the radical sort, Elizabeth felt it was a safe enough topic and allowed her attention to wander toward the other assembled guests. The tall morose gentleman in the maroon chair who had been introduced as Richard Courtney was giving monosyllabic answers to Morgan Courtney, who still stood at the fireplace near him. Lady Isabel, after giving Elizabeth's dress, hair, and face a long searching look, seemed uninterested in starting a conversation with her and instead turned to the plump little boy at her side and began to talk with him in light, happy accents.

Left completely alone, Elizabeth sipped at her glass, stopping with sudden disgust as she realized it contained only ratafia, dull watered-down sweetened stuff that her uncle had warned her ladies were supposed to prefer. For herself, Elizabeth much preferred good wine, for Uncle had at least a decent palate left over from the days of his high fortune, and
had taught her the nose for a fine wine. So she merely nursed her glass and watched the others with interest.

Although Lord Beverly was certainly the most fashionable gentleman in the room, and Lady Isabel the most beautiful female Elizabeth had ever seen outside of a picture book, Elizabeth's gaze kept straying to the tall gentleman by the fireside. He was the most imposing, virile-looking man she had ever laid eyes upon. For a certainty, Tuxford had never held such a gentleman. His simple presence diminished the others, making their attempts at fashion into mere foppery. He had a commanding air of certitude and a slow smile of inner amusement. Not above five-and-thirty, she guessed, he was tall, and while slender, by no means as gaunt and rawboned as Cousin Richard, with whom he was chatting. Rather, he had the graceful, easy look of an athlete, from his lightly tanned, strongly planed face, with its high cheekbones and strong jaw, to his wide shoulders and trim waist, to his long, well-muscled legs. His hair was a dark auburn, worn slightly longer than was fashionable, and his eyes were so deep-set they seemed hooded. But when he turned, as though her glance had compelled him to, Elizabeth saw, in the one moment before she dropped her gaze in embarrassment, that his eyes were long and clear and the color of blue and green intermixed.