Suspicion (6 page)

“Harry, this is Lauren Fox,” I introduce them. “Lauren, meet Harry Morgan.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Harry says politely. “And thank you for offering your home for this conversation.”

“Sure,” Lauren replies, though her expression looks suddenly anxious—almost as anxious as I feel. “Nice to meet you too.”

I sit on the couch and Harry follows suit.

“So, what is it?” I ask, my voice clipped. “What did you need to tell me?”

“Well. … This would be extraordinary news for anyone, but I suppose you might have always thought it possible, being that you were third in line,” he begins, pulling a folder of papers from his briefcase.

I stare uncomprehendingly at him.

“Third in line for what?”

“Oh, my God. Was I actually right? Did she inherit a billion dollars?” Lauren blurts out.

Harry chuckles.

“Not nearly that much, I’m afraid. But you have indeed inherited something.”

He hands me the folder in his lap, opened to a page that reads
The Last Will and Testament of the eleventh Duke of Wickersham.
I can’t look past the heading.

“My grandfather is dead?” I cry.

Harry stares at me, aghast.

“I—I wrote to you right after he passed. I called Mrs. Marino about it. Did you not know?”

“No. I didn’t,” I say faintly, my head spinning.

“I’m terribly sorry for the shock,” Harry says, lowering his eyes. “I’m afraid the duke’s health deteriorated over the past five years, and the stroke he suffered last month was the final blow. But he’s in a better place now. We can comfort ourselves with that.”

My cheeks burn with shame as I realize it isn’t just his death that I’ve been in the dark about. I never knew he was so sick—I never called or visited. How could I have been such a coward? And
why
didn’t the Marinos tell me what they knew?

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

“That brings me to the business at hand,” Harry says, clearing his throat. “Your grandfather’s death means you inherit … everything.”

For a split second the world freezes. There is no sound or movement beyond my frantic heartbeat.

“What? I’m—I’m not—I shouldn’t be next in line,” I manage to stammer. “That doesn’t make sense.”

I watch as the color drains from Harry’s face.

“Did you also not receive my messages about your cousin, Lucia?” he asks haltingly.

I gasp at the sound of her name on his lips. For years she’s existed only in my memory, and it rattles me to hear someone else speak of her. And then it dawns on me what he might be about to say, and I shake my head, because it’s impossible—impossible.

“What messages?” I whisper.

Harry winces, clearly dreading what he has to say.

“I am so—so very sorry to have to tell you this.” His voice wavers. “Lucia is—she’s—well, I’m afraid she’s … dead.”

N
o.”

I jump off the couch, scrambling away from Harry in horror. Lauren tries to comfort me but I push her away, swallowing the bile I feel rising in my throat.

“It’s impossible. She—she’s only two years older than me! She was stronger than me, better than me. There’s no way she could be dead.”

“Please, Your Grace, I understand it’s a shock, but I—”

“Don’t call me Your Grace!” I explode. “I’m not anyone’s
Grace.
”

“But you are. That’s what I’ve come here to tell you, what I’ve been trying to convey for weeks now.” Harry leans forward, gazing at me with an almost reverential expression. “Your grandfather’s passing means that you inherit not only Rockford Manor, but his title and dukedom. Hence, you will from now on be addressed as Her Grace, the Duchess of Wickersham.”

“That’s—that’s insane!” I look wildly around the room. “Lauren, where’s your phone? I need to call England. This has to be a joke. My grandfather and Lucia will be there and we’ll all have a good laugh—”

“Imogen,” Lauren interrupts me. “I don’t think he’s kidding.”

I look from her to Harry Morgan and back again, feeling as though the wind has been knocked out of me. My once-closest friend, the cousin who so often intimidated me with her larger-than-life presence,
can’t
be dead. But the pained expression on Harry’s face is enough for me to realize it’s true. And I’ll never again have the chance to make things right between us.

I sink numbly into an armchair.

“How did she die?” My voice is barely audible.

Harry briefly shuts his eyes.

“There was a violent storm last fall, the worst I’ve ever seen in Britain. That night Lucia told the staff she was retiring to bed early, but when the housekeeper went to her room the next morning, she wasn’t there. Her bed hadn’t been slept in, and there was an empty bottle of vodka by her dresser. The Rockford staff searched the grounds and found her body later that day.” Harry takes a shaky breath. “Her head had struck one of the stone pillars just outside the Maze. Between the terrible weather and her inebriated state, she must have fallen in the rain. The autopsy confirmed the cause of death as a blow to the head from a blunt object.”

“I’m—I’m going to be sick,” I blurt out. I cover my mouth with my hand, stumbling into the guest bathroom.

Afterward, I lean my head against the cold tiles of the wall, the room spinning as my mind fills with the image of Lucia’s beautiful face—soaked in blood. I’m half conscious of Lauren joining me, rubbing my shoulders soothingly, but nothing gives me any comfort. The story has a horribly familiar ring to it. An innocent accident, a sudden death, the Maze—it’s like losing Mum and Dad all over again.

It twists up my insides, knowing that she’s gone and I never apologized, never made up for the years I stayed away. All my guilt bubbles to the surface as I wonder what might have happened if we’d kept in touch, if I had been there for Lucia. Maybe she wouldn’t have been drinking that night—maybe somehow, in some way, I could have prevented her accident.

After what feels like ages, I manage to stand. Holding on to Lauren for support, I slowly return to Harry.

“Are you all right, Your Grace?” he frets, jumping to his feet as soon as I enter the room. I sink into a seat facing him.

“I should have been there for them,” I whisper. “Not just at the funerals, but long before that.” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get your messages, and that I was out of the picture all this time. I handled everything all wrong, and I—I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for it.”

I can’t hold back the tears any longer; it’s like a dam has burst. I bury my face in my hands, letting the tears fall and soak into my palms. I usually feel relief after a hard cry, but not this time. There’s a painful silence as Harry and Lauren watch helplessly. Then Harry takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

“You can’t fault yourself for anything. You were just a child at the time of the fire, and I was told that you were treated for post-traumatic stress disorder afterward. It’s no wonder you had trouble returning to Rockford or seeing anyone who reminded you of that night.” He clears his throat. “But so many people are now counting on you to come back, to take your place at the helm of Rockford Manor.”

I feel a shiver of trepidation at his words.

“I don’t understand. Why
me?
Isn’t there someone else?”

“I’m afraid that with the fire, and Lucia’s passing, you are the late duke’s closest living descendant and last in the line of inheritance. Rockford Manor is tied up in entail, which means that if there is no direct heir to take ownership of the estate, the house and all the land will be taken over by the British government,” he explains. “In that event, the staff, who have been at Rockford for decades, would lose their jobs and their home. They need you.”

“Can’t I be the owner or heir without actually living there? You have to understand, I haven’t been since …” My voice trails off. “I just—I’ll never look at Rockford the same, after everything that’s happened. I can’t imagine being there without my family.”

Harry gives me a compassionate look.

“This is an awful lot to take in, I know. But unfortunately, the estate law requires the owner and heir of Rockford to live on the premises and run the property. Additionally, the people of Wickersham have always had a duke or duchess to lead local charities, host events for the townspeople, and most importantly, provide jobs. We also give tours of the estate during summer months and holidays. Rockford Manor and its family are an integral part of the lives of our local community, and that’s something—if you don’t mind my being direct—you really should consider.”

“Wow. He kind of has a point,” Lauren says under her breath.

I anxiously tug on a lock of hair.

“But—but I know nothing about running an estate or being the face of a town. I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job.”

“You’re the only person,” Harry says firmly. “No one is expecting perfection, least of all from a seventeen-year-old. You’ll have plenty of help and instruction along the way. All that matters is that you’re willing to learn.”

“But Lucia … she was born for that type of life, and I’d be taking it from her. She would hate me for it.” I shudder inwardly.

“Lucia wasn’t necessarily intended to be heir either,” Harry says carefully. “Her father was next in line, and if he and his wife had lived and produced a son, that boy would have taken Lucia’s place in the line of inheritance. The fire changed everything; it reshuffled all the cards. And now we have to make do with the hand we’ve been dealt.”

I can’t sit still anymore. I restlessly pace Lauren’s living room, racking my brain for a solution. But instead, my mind fills with images of my younger self—turning my back on Lucia at the Rockford Cemetery, refusing my grandfather’s invitations. If I decline my inheritance and let Rockford Manor fall to pieces, it will be the same cowardice all over again. But this time it would affect more lives; it would be a betrayal to my parents. I won’t,
can’t
do that. And in that moment, my mind is made up.

I will move to England; I will do all that is asked of me. I owe the Rockfords—my family—that much.

“Okay,” I say simply. “I’ll do it.”

I feel strangely lighter as soon as I’ve said the words. There won’t be any more worrying or wrestling with my future, debating with the Marinos about NYU versus a gap year. My future has been decided. It’s not one I would have ever chosen, but the idea of fulfilling a duty to my father’s family gives me a sudden sense of purpose—something I’ve been missing since I lost him.

Harry lets out a sigh of relief while Lauren gapes at me.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she says after a pause, squeezing my hand. “But … this is all so weird. I can’t picture us living in different cities, much less different countries. What will I do without you?”

“What will I do without
you
?” I shake my head sadly. “We’ll just have to talk on the phone or email every day, and visit each other as much as possible.”

“Maybe you can make one of the rooms in your new mansion the Official Lauren Fox Guestroom?” she says with a small smile.

“Of course. If anyone could brighten that place for me, it’s you.”

“Let me speak for everyone in Wickersham when I say how thrilled I am that you’ve agreed to assume your title and estate,” Harry says grandly. “Now, I have some papers here for you to sign, primarily the deed of inheritance and ownership. We also need to book your travel. How soon can you leave? The earlier the better, as it’s not customary for Wickersham to be without a duke or duchess on site for this long.”

“Um …” Although I’ve made my decision, I’m still floored by how swiftly everything is moving and changing. “Well, I have to graduate from high school first. That’s only two weeks away. And if I plan to leave any earlier than my eighteenth birthday, which isn’t until October, then I probably have to get my guardians’ permission first. Right?”

“Actually, no,” Harry clarifies. “Your parents’ will states that if ever you should inherit the title and estate, you may be considered emancipated and thereby live at Rockford, running the property under a co-regency until you turn twenty-one. After that, you retain sole control.”

I stare at him, my mouth falling open.

“Why … why would my parents think to include something like that in their will? Before the fire, there was no chance of me ever inheriting anything.”

“It’s customary to have a clause like this for all immediate family members of someone on the level of a duke,” Harry answers. “In the past, wars could wipe out multiple heirs within a year. Fifth and sixth cousins had to be prepared to assume inheritances. Since then, the precaution has stuck.”

I nod slowly.

“Okay. But what’s a … a co-regency?”

“It’s another authoritative figure who shares control of decision making with the heir until he or she comes of age. In this case, as estate manager, I am your co-regent.” Harry smiles. “But I promise, you won’t see too much of me. I’ll be there to help you manage the tenants and staff and so on, and we’ll make decisions about the property together, but aside from that you’re free to do as you wish.”

“Jeez, and to think just yesterday your only prospect was being an undeclared major at NYU,” Lauren marvels. “Talk about your life changing overnight!”

“You’re not kidding,” I say quietly. “I—I should probably go home and talk to the Marinos about all of this. I have no idea how the conversation with them will go down, but I have a feeling it won’t be pretty. Everything would have been so different if they had just been
honest
with me.”

“Would you like me to come speak to them with you?” Harry offers.

“I can be there too, for moral support,” Lauren adds.

“Thanks, both of you. But I think I need to do this alone. I’ll call you tomorrow to go over any other arrangements we have to make,” I tell Harry.

“One more thing,” Harry says, rising to his feet. “Since you’ll be arriving in England around the start of the social season—meaning you’ll be expected to make public appearances and entertain guests at Rockford—you need to undergo a bit of study. Duchess training, so to speak. We can fly in an etiquette expert and put him up at a nearby hotel, if you’ll make time for lessons after school.”

“Um … what
?
” I squeak. “You really want to spend a fortune sending an etiquette expert to America to give me
duchess
lessons? This is too weird.”

“I’m not the one spending it,” Harry says with a grin. “You’re an heiress now, don’t forget. These papers you’re about to sign will transfer the Rockford bank accounts into your name. As your co-regent, I’m tasked with giving you an allowance so that you don’t burn through your inheritance as so many young people do. But if I may be so blunt, an etiquette expert will hardly break the bank. And it’s rather necessary.”

Lauren and I turn to each other, eyes wide.

“It’s like … like you’re a whole new person now,” Lauren says awkwardly.

I shake my head.

“I’m not. They can call me a duchess, but I’m still me.”