The Third Heiress (11 page)

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Authors: Brenda Joyce

BOOK: The Third Heiress
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Jill reeled. Thinking,
Oh, God, he had been on the verge of leaving her to go back with Marisa …
“No,” she cried. “He loved me. He left her. He was with me, in New York, these past eight months—”
Thomas cut her off. “Bloody right he was in New York with you. And I think the reason is obvious.” His gaze slid over her body in a brutally chauvinistic way.
“I have had enough,” Jill cried, turning so quickly that she slammed into Alex’s chest, face first.
“You’ve always known how to be cruel,” Alex said over her head, to his cousin, his hands closing around her shoulders.
Jill pushed away from him, rushing to the door.
“I’m not through,” Thomas said, his strides sounding as he hurried across the room after her. He caught her arm from behind, whirling her around. Jill made a small sound—that of a tiny animal, caught by its much larger, dangerous predator—a sound of pure fear.
“You’re here now for the same reason you went after Hal in the first place,” Thomas said, his eyes filled with fury. “And don’t you deny it!”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Jill gasped.
“Don’t,” Alex said, hard, slamming one hand down on Thomas’s wrist, forcing him to release Jill.
Jill backed up against the door.
“Why are you protecting her? Or has she gotten to you, too?” Thomas cried to Alex.
“I’ll ignore that. I’m going to ignore everything that has just happened, because you are drunk on grief,” Alex said harshly. “Thomas, you are not yourself!”
Thomas turned his gaze on Jill, who remained frozen against the door, ignoring his cousin—perhaps not even having heard him. He was livid. “You went after Hal because
you
are a fortune hunter. And you’re here now for the very same reason.”
Jill was so stunned she could not even react.
“You’re here to get a piece of Hal’s trust. The next thing we know, you’ll be claiming you’re pregnant with his child.”
Jill managed to find the words she so desperately wanted. “You are wrong,” she said. “You are wrong.” She shoved Alex aside and fled the two men.
J
ill felt like a dead person.
She slowly stepped into very skinny, gray stretch pants and a fitted black pullover, feeling as if her body had run out of fuel. Her limbs seemed to be weak and useless. She had just gotten up after a sleepless night. Terrible doubts about her own relationship with Hal had tormented her hour after hour and she had actually watched the sky lightening with the sunrise. She had been haunted by Thomas’s accusations, by the fact that Hal had kept such a monumental secret from her about his battle with drugs and alcohol, and by her own very real worry that Hal had intended to marry Marisa.
Thomas had to be wrong.
But the facts were inescapable.
Jill finished dressing. She had never been more grim—or more glum. Now she understood why Hal’s family hated her. It wasn’t just that she had been driving the car, or that she was a dancer. They all assumed her to be a fortune hunter. It was unbelievable.
Jill had never once in her life met a fortune hunter in the flesh. How dare they think her to be such a conniving piece of trash. But even her anger failed to replace the hurt. It was the most awful of accusations.
Marisa had saved Hal’s life. She, Jill, had ended it.
Had Hal loved Marisa? Or had he loved her, Jill?
Jill sank back down on the bed, her head in her hands, exhausted. Her
mind wouldn’t quit, worse, she felt like crying again. KC was right. She needed drugs. just for a few days, maybe a few weeks.
Until she adjusted to being alone again, until she adjusted to the fact that she would never have the answers she would always seek.
There was a knock on Jill’s door. Jill assumed it was a housemaid and she looked at the clock beside the bed. It was almost noon. Not that she cared. Her system had taken a beating, and although she had been in London for two days now, she had yet to adjust to the time change. Nor did she want to. Jet leg meant she had already lost the morning, and that was fine with her.
Tonight she was going home. She could not wait, even though it meant leaving Hal behind—a vast ocean separating them. Even though it meant she wouldn’t be able to visit his grave for years and years.
She did not know how she felt anymore. A part of her that still believed, hated leaving Hal, would hate being so far away from him. But she could not bear being among the Sheldons anymore. She could not stand up to any more brutal discoveries about Hal’s life—she was afraid to learn that there were more secrets he had kept from her.
Jill grabbed her purse and leather jacket, having just applied a beige-hued lipstick, and answered the door. To her surprise, Lauren stood there, impeccable and elegant in pressed blue jeans, a navy blue Escada blazer, a white button-down shirt, and J.P Tod’s loafers.
“Good morning,” Lauren said, her hands in the pockets of her blazer. She didn’t quite smile, but she wasn’t scowling like the day before yesterday. “When you didn’t come downstairs I thought I should check on you.”
Jill did not relax. “Hoping I died in my sleep?” she said, before she thought the better of it.
Lauren stared. “That’s very unfair.”
“You’re right. But let’s not pretend. You didn’t come upstairs to check on my health.” Jill knew she was being terribly rude, but she was also being honest. She was too tired to play games anymore.
Lauren followed her down the hall. “Jill. We spoke last night at length about you.”
Jill faltered, and on the landing, she turned to face Hal’s sister.
“Thomas regrets his terrible outburst. I’m here to apologize for us all.”
Jill could not believe her ears. And she did not believe, not for a New York minute, that Thomas had had a change of heart. He believed she was a trashy fortune hunter. He blamed her for Hal’s death. What was going on? “Okay,” Jill said cautiously.
Lauren’s hands remained in her pockets. “I’m sorry, too. This is very difficult. I don’t mean apologizing. I mean everything. But Hal was dating you, and you did bring him home—” Suddenly tears filled Lauren’s eyes, her nose turned red, and she could not continue. “Oh, God!” She turned away, her shoulders shaking.
Tears filled Jill’s eyes as well. Here, at least, was common ground. Jill dug into her purse for a tissue, laid her hand tentatively on Lauren’s shoulder. Lauren shook her head, continuing to cry. Jill waited, and when she finally repressed the sobs, Jill handed her the tissue. Lauren wiped her eyes carefully—avoiding mascara.
When she looked up, it was to meet Jill’s own eyes, which remained moist. “Thank you.”
It was a moment before Jill could speak. “Maybe he didn’t love me completely, but I loved him with all of my heart and all of my soul.”
Lauren stared.
Jill put her purse strap over her shoulder. “Thomas is wrong about me,” she said impulsively, immediately regretting her words. Something was up, and she didn’t want Lauren to know that she suspected anything.
“Thomas is in shock and in grief, we all are. He blames himself for Hal’s death.”
“How is that? He blames me.”
Lauren shook her head. “I know you think he is a monster, but he’s not. Try to understand. Please. We’re a very close family. Our lineage goes back hundreds of years. Thomas is Father’s heir. But Father is seventy-nine. Thomas is the head of this family. He is almost the patriarch, he makes all the decisions, he is CEO of the company, and even the executor of Hal’s and my trusts.” Lauren suddenly realized what she had said and her face crumpled.
Jill understood. It was so easy to forget that Hal was dead—to think, for a moment, that he was living among them. Jill handed her another Kleenex. Lauren blew her nose. “For some reason, I thought Alex ran the company,” Jill said.
Lauren gave her an odd look. “They are both very involved,” she finally said. “Alex is a president, and on numerous boards, actually, but Thomas is CEO.” She smiled slightly. “Thomas has the final say—in everything, and that is as it should be.”
Hal had said that Thomas was a playboy. His weekend home was probably on Mykonos. She could not help being snide. Nothing Lauren said would make her change her feelings about her older brother.
Lauren continued, obviously wanting to impress Jill with her case.
“Thomas is a very protective chap. He has always felt that we were his responsibility, and I do mean myself, Alex, and Hal. You know, when we were children, he was our champion. We would always go to him if we had difficulties—and he would always solve our problems. If a boy teased me at school, Thomas would appear to set things right. I remember when Alex first came to live with us—when his mother died. Mother and Father put him in the same school as Hal. Obviously he had problems. He was an American hoodlum, really, and he was miserable—all the boys ostracized him. Until Thomas dropped in on the school. To this day, I don’t know what he said to a handful of the boys, but Alex was reluctantly accepted after that.”
“Okay,” Jill said, even though the story about Alex Preston was interesting, “I get the drift. Thomas is a knight in shining armor.”
Lauren ignored that. “We all still defer to him, today. Now, though, he is also taking care of Mother and Father, too. Mother has not been well.” Lauren’s expression was tense. After a pause, she said, “I know Thomas is blaming himself for Hal’s death. Last night he said he should have gone to New York himself to bring him home. He thinks he shouldn’t have ever allowed Hal to go to New York in the first place.”
Jill did not understand. “Hal was a grown man. Thomas certainly didn’t run his life.”
“Hal is an artist. I told you, Thomas is executor of his trust.”
Jill stared. So Thomas held the purse strings. So Thomas could have manipulated Hal had he chosen to do so. It was to his credit that he had not.
“Hal and I were extremely close. He told me everything, I think.” Jill’s heart lurched at that. “We’re only two years apart in age. But I think, perhaps, this is hitting Thomas even harder than myself.” She trembled. “We’re all in shock. Please forgive him his rudeness. Please forgive us. We are sorry.”
Jill found herself responding to Lauren’s plea. How could she not? She was not hateful by nature, and she wanted to feel compassion for Thomas—because Hal had adored him. She wanted to like Lauren for the same reason. On the other hand, this whole impassioned diatribe was contrived and strangely ill-timed. And why hadn’t Thomas apologized himself? Jill had no doubt it was because he wasn’t sorry for anything he had said. “I guess we can bury the hatchet.” Her gaze locked briefly with Lauren’s—for the merest of seconds. Jill wasn’t sure who looked away first—Hal’s sister or herself.
“Good,” Lauren said. She smiled. Her nose and eyes were still pink.
Jill felt that her return smile was lopsided. The problem was, she did want to make peace. It was just that she knew Lauren wasn’t being completely honest with her.
“Are you still leaving tonight?” Lauren asked.
Jill nodded.
“Do you want some company today? I can show you London, if that’s what you want, and take you to lunch.”
Jill almost gaped. She quickly rearranged her face. “I think I’ll hoof it alone.”
Lauren looked chagrined. “But I thought you accepted my apology for everyone?”
“I have.” Jill had no choice but to smile. “I’m not feeling so great,” she began.
“How about lunch and a guided tour of London?” Lauren smiled again. “We have some very nice neighborhoods here. I’d love to walk you through Mayfair, show you the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, and all that wonderfully touristy stuff.”
Jill hesitated. “Actually, I have plans for the day.” But she was wondering if she should accept Lauren’s offer. Lauren had mentioned that the family’s history went back hundreds of years. Jill was only interested in as far back as 1906.
“What kind of plans?”
“Hal mentioned to me that Uxbridge Hall is your ancestral home. He said it’s open to the public. I want to go there, and I was wondering if your grandmother Anne had an ancestral home that I could visit, too.”
Lauren’s tawny brows lifted. “Uxbridge Hall does have a few rooms on the ground floor that are open to the public. It’s not far from London—thirty minutes by car. I’d be happy to take you there.”
“That would be great,” Jill said slowly. Why was Lauren being so nice to her?
“But I’m afraid you won’t have any luck when it comes to visiting my grandmother’s home. Anne grew up at Bensonhurst Hall. She was the last Bensonhurst, and she was a great heiress when she married my grandfather, Edward, who became the ninth earl of Collinsworth. Bensonhurst, and the entire estate, came into our family at the time of the death of her parents, and I believe that was just after the First World War. But the house was demolished by order of Parliament even prior to the war—to make way for a rail station.”
“You’re kidding,” Jill exclaimed.
“No. Those things happen. It was an old house, impossible to keep up,
and it was, frankly in the way.” Lauren smiled. “Let’s drive out to Uxbridge. I can’t remember the public hours, but we do keep an entire wing for our private use, and we can get in even if Uxbridge Hall is not open to the public today.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jill said, feeling a rush of excitement.
“Why do you want to go there?” Lauren said curiously as they descended the stairs.
Jill hesitated before answering truthfully. “I keep thinking about Kate Gallagher. I can’t get her off of my mind. There’s something about her that is so compelling.”Jill paused. “And I have this gut feeling that she is a relative of mine, and I just can’t shake it.” But she didn’t tell Lauren that “Kate” was the last name Hal spoke. Jill would have no peace until she found out what that meant.
“But what does this feeling of yours have to do with Uxbridge Hall?”
“Kate was Anne’s friend, after all,” Jill said as they entered the spacious foyer. “She stayed with Anne at Bensonhurst in 1906. Anne married Edward. I guess Uxbridge Hall is as close as I’ll ever get to Anne’s family home. I really don’t know why I want to go there, or what I expect to find. I just have to go.” And even as Jill spoke, she felt chills creeping up her spine.
“Well, it is a lovely house,” Lauren replied. “And quite a few mementos from the Bensonhurst side of our family are there. But I am quite sure you will not find anything there of value to you if you are researching Kate—unless, of course, it is Kate’s ghost.”
Jill glanced sharply at her. The hairs on her nape seemed to prickle again. “Whatever made you say that?”
Lauren smiled. “Don’t you believe in ghosts? This is Great Britain, Jill. Our history is very rich—and actually quite bloody. We have ghosts everywhere.”
V
isitors were required to leave their cars in the car park and walk some distance to the house. But that was not the case for the family, Lauren had explained, as their chauffeured Rolls paused before high iron gates that were closed. On the opposite side of those gates—set in a huge brick wall—was an expanse of rolling green land, a few trees, and, in the near distance, what appeared to be a huge brick house. Jill stared as the gates were opened by an electronic device and the Rolls proceeded through. She would have never dreamed to find this pastoral enclave in the midst of London’s suburbs.

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