An Heir of Deception (13 page)

“Do you not understand, Rutherford? I no longer care why she left.” As the words passed his lips, his certainty that he in fact spoke the truth, grew. He didn’t
want
to care. That should be enough to make it so.

Rutherford let out a long breath as he shook his head slowly. “You can’t fool me, Cartwright. You care. It’s possibly the only thing you’ve cared about these last five years.” He paused before saying, “And I think you still care for her.”

Alex stiffened. His mind revolted against the idea. But his friend’s words landed like a sharp blow to the gut—or perhaps it was his heart, they were after all close enough in proximity. His jaw went tight. In equal parts horror and anger, he stared at Rutherford.

“In all the years my sister has been gone, you’ve never married. Your personal life consists of a string of mistresses whom you discard within months of taking them. The month prior you were to start courting Lady Mary…” Another telling pause. A moment later, he continued on to finish Alex off in true merciless Rutherford form. “You have never truly moved beyond her.”

The reason he hadn’t started to court Lady Mary when he’d intended had
nothing
to do with Charlotte. And he
had
moved beyond her. It was her return that now dragged him back to the past. A past when he’d loved her.

Infinitely more appealing would have been if they’d had a good bring-down-the-walls brawl than Alex being forced to listen to
this
, for these were fighting words. He might not have been able to close his ears to them, but he’d be damned if he would remain and listen to another one.

Tamping down the rage broiling within him, he flicked a glance at his friend before starting toward the study door. “You can see yourself out,” he said in parting, the words thrown over his rapidly departing back.

Chapter Seven

The man was punctual, Alex would give him that. His solicitor arrived promptly at quarter past eleven; ten minutes after Rutherford had gone. In his hand he clutched a tan valise, which looked as if it had just left the shop. The same could be said of his tailored suit and the glint from his black leather shoes had the power to blind. It was clear the man was being paid too much.

With polite greetings dispensed, Alex invited him to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk.

Mr. Reynolds’s valise thumped to the floor at his side, his full bespectacled attention directed at Alex. “How many I assist you today, my lord?”

Always so eager to please when coin was involved. A jaded thought, but entirely factual.

“I would like to change my will.”

“Indeed?” Surprise lit Mr. Reynolds’s eyes and his brows rose accordingly. His hands reached for his case, managing the clasp with one hand. “What changes did you have in mind?” he asked, momentarily switching his attention to his valise as he rifled through its contents. Seconds later, he produced several sheets of paper. After a quick scan, he gave a satisfied nod and placed them on the desk.

“I want the sum of two hundred thousand pounds left to my son as well as the values of my stocks and securities put in trust to him until he reaches the age of twenty-five.”

His solicitor’s head jerked up. His eyes rounded, making them appear overly large behind the lenses of his glasses.

“I-I was not aware you had a child, my lord.”

That makes the both of us
, Alex was tempted to reply. Judiciously, he kept the thought just that, a thought.

Instead, Alex acknowledged his statement with a brief inclination of his head.

“But surely you will marry, my lord. What of your legitimate children when that occurs? Do you not want to leave a portion of this to them?”

The gall of the man! He just assumed he’d been speaking of a by-blow. Some child he’d kept hidden away who, maybe now, Alex would attempt to carve a respectable place in Society.

This was how it would be going forward. And despite his exalted rank, he didn’t fool himself into believing this would be an easy task. After all, he’d been the spare, the one dark presence in a sea of the golden beauty of his family. A fact his father never let him forget.

The thought of the struggle for acceptance in a spurious and merciless
ton
awaiting Nicholas overwhelmed him with a sense of helplessness he hadn’t felt in years. If he could do anything,
anything
at all to spare him what was to come, he would.

“My lord?”

Mr. Reynolds’s prompt pulled Alex back from his dark, frustrated thoughts.

He pinned the man with a hard stare but didn’t speak. Could not in that moment, so great was his frustration at the whole affair. So great was his anger at her and the predicament she now placed him in. As the silence and stare stretched and breached the threshold of decorum, his solicitor began shifting in his seat, his gaze uneasy.

“You must think of your heir and your—er—other children, my lord.” His solicitor’s voice was calmer now. Thrown in too, was an extra dose of deference.

And it was that calm that unloosed Alex’s tongue.

“He
is
my heir.”

It was purely reflexive, his response. The man had practically goaded him into saying it.

Had the matter not been so serious, Alex would’ve thought his solicitor’s reaction amusing. He bolted upright in his chair, and apparently his sight wasn’t as poor as all that for he tore his spectacles from his face. The man practically gaped at him.

Alex knew he should correct his outburst before Mr. Reynolds’s heart gave out but he didn’t. Something inside him stayed it.

“You married? But when? How? To whom?” his solicitor sputtered, bewildered.

The solution appeared to Alex in that instant. The one way he could set everything right. The only way he could make his son his legitimate heir.

“I married five years ago. How? Well, I would say in the normal manner of such things. My cousin married Miss Charlotte Rutherford and I in his parish situated on the grounds of my parents’ country home.” Alex felt no guilt for his monstrous lie. After all, it was done to right an egregious wrong.

Mr. Reynolds looked downright flummoxed, his sunken eyes bulging wide. “You me-mean, the earl’s sister? The same one who—”

“Yes, the same woman who was to marry me again in front of a church full of people at St. Paul’s Cathedral.”

“Again?” Mr. Reynolds asked with a gulp.

“Yes again, Mr. Reynolds,” Alex answered patiently, giving him time to adjust to the news.

Several times his solicitor appeared poised to speak, only to close his mouth as he continued to stare at him, his expression twelve leagues beyond confusion and shocked.

“Our marriage isn’t common knowledge so I beg that you keep this to yourself until such a time that I wish to share it with the general populace.”

It seemed that statement snapped him out of his stupor for Mr. Reynolds adjusted his necktie and cleared his throat. “This is most unorthodox, my lord.”

Alex reclined in the chair and cocked his eyebrow, striving to appear his supercilious best. “I beg your pardon?” He stretched his legs out under the desk. “Pray tell me what’s so unorthodox about me marrying and siring an heir?” There was no harm in having a bit of sport with the man.

Immediately Reynolds cowed, his Adam’s apple giving a dramatic bob. Somehow Alex managed to suppress a smile.

“You misunderstand me, my lord. All I meant to say is that no one believes you to be married. Never once in all these years have you uttered a word about…well a wife. And talk about Town is that you are planning to marry.”

It would appear even learned solicitors weren’t immune to gossip.

“Talk about Town is obviously misinformed.” Let him make of it what he would. On the path Alex had just committed to, he’d face greater opposition and scrutiny.

After several moments of silence, Reynolds pressed on in a clear attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence. “Given these unique circumstances, in order for your son to be recognized as your heir, you will be required to furnish proof of his legitimacy. No doubt your marriage papers are on file at the general registry.”

His solicitor would never accuse him of lying to him—at least not to his face—but his tone conveyed a hint of skepticism at the validity of his claim. Which was good, as Alex had no tolerance for an eagerly trusting man, especially in a solicitor.

“Indeed they are,” Alex replied smoothly. When the occasion warranted, he could lie with the best of them. Although when it came to deception, Charlotte had set the bar particularly high.

This would mean a trip to Yorkshire today. His cousin had better be about. “I shall request they send the verification to your office.”

A look of surprise flashed in Reynolds’s eyes as if he hadn’t expected Alex to offer them up so readily. He’d no doubt expected him to hem and haw before making some excuse to explain the absence of said document.

“Good, good. Very well then, I shall go ahead and make the changes and draw up a new will. Your marriage papers
should
take care of the legalities concerning your title and entailed properties.” Mr. Reynolds was all business briskness now. He rose from his chair.

Alex was not inclined to see him to the door, but those manners so strongly ingrained in him brought him to his feet. “And when can I expect it will be ready for my signature?”

In the process of collecting the papers from the desk, Reynolds glanced up briefly and said, “I can return in a week’s time. Will that be sufficient, my lord?”

Alex inclined his head.

After Mr. Reynolds put the will back in his valise, he bowed just as Alex stuck out his hand. The awkwardness lasted but a moment before the men shook hands.

“Good day, my lord.”

“It’s still early, so that’s left to be said,” Alex replied dryly.

His solicitor made a sound in his throat as if he wasn’t sure whether it would be in good form to laugh. Alex smiled. He supposed he’d tormented the man enough for one day.

The moment Mr. Reynolds departed the room, Alex gave an impatient yank of the bell cord on the wall behind his desk. The head footman, Simmons, appeared seconds later.

“Have the coach prepared. I want to depart for the train station as soon as it’s readied. I will be traveling to Yorkshire.”

“Yes, sir.” Simmons gave a curt nod, turned on his heel and departed.

A time like this would normally be cause for celebration, Alex supposed. If everything worked out as planned, by the end of the day he’d be a married man.

Charlotte could tell by her brother’s furrowed brows and the tight set of his lips things had not gone well with Alex.

James had stalked into the morning room where she, Katie and Missy were taking their midmorning tea—a practice Charlotte hadn’t realized how much she’d missed until her return. His dark hair was windblown and the buttons of his waistcoat were undone. He’d discarded his coat over the back of the armchair and now sat beside his wife, his hand covering hers, which rested with loving familiarity on his thigh.

The sight of the two of them together pinched at her heart. It always had.

“Were you able to sway him the tiniest bit?” Missy asked.

“He’s as determined as I’ve ever seen him. He wants his son,” James said, ending on a heavy sigh.

Wrenching despair gripped Charlotte, blurring her vision, and she could see only the bleakness of her future.

Instantly, Katie, who sat at her side on the sofa, clutched her hand and held it tight. “But of course we won’t allow Alex to take Nicholas from you.” She shot a pointed look at their brother. “Will we, James?”

Her brother’s expression in no way served to alleviate Charlotte’s worst fears. Worry etched fine lines about his mouth and futility clouded his eyes.

“But how can he? Legally, he has no claim on Nicholas.”