The Unknown Heir: Book Nine in the Regency Romps Series Read online

  The Unknown Heir

  Elizabeth Bramwell

  Copyright © Elizabeth Bramwell

  All the characters and scenes in this book are a work of fiction, which continues to depress me as they are all really good conversationalists who find me a witty and talented friend. Pity it’s all in my head. Any similarities to real people, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-989669-07-5

  Dedication

  For Max and Eddie,

  Who allowed me to work while they were unexpectedly homeschooled.

  Most of the time.

  Books by Elizabeth Bramwell

  The Regency Romps Series

  The Dashing Widow

  The Foolish Friend

  His Darling Belle

  The Rebel Wife

  A Novel Miss

  The Alter Ego

  The Independent Heiress

  The Devilish Duke

  The Unknown Heir

  The Putney Brothers

  Anything But Love

  Everything But Love (forthcoming)

  Chapter One

  "London!" sighed Lady Cordelia Delby with genuine pleasure as she threw herself back onto her mother's chaise lounge. "You have no notion how much I have missed this place!"

  She dropped her muff onto the rich carpet as she flopped backwards, and was indifferent to the fact that the back of her bonnet was being sadly crushed beneath her. The early morning shopping trip had been successful, which was all that mattered.

  Lady Delby, who was still in bed with various pieces of correspondence littering the quilt across her lap, gave a soft laugh.

  "Believe me, child, you have made us all aware of how dull you find life outside of the Season. I think you have mentioned it every hour since Michealmas, much to the irritation of your sisters."

  "Well I did not think we would return so late this year," she said as she slowly began to loosen the buttons on her Spencer. "My wardrobe was in dire need of updating, and I was quaking at the possibility of someone seeing me in an outmoded dress! I would never have lived it down!"

  "It's so good to see that your mind has retained an elevated air since Trix left us to get married," said her mother wryly.

  Cordelia muttered something that could have been a curse as she pushed herself up to her elbows so that she could peek at her mother from the end of the bed.

  "I do retain an elevated frame of mind, and will have you know that I picked up several books from the circulation library while I was out this morning," she replied.

  “Improving works by your Aunt?”

  Cordy snorted. “As if you would be happy with me reading those prosy things! I will have you know that I borrowed that new novel, Graham Hamilton, instead.”

  “Let’s hope it isn’t as irreverent as Glenarvon,” said her mother. “Caro Lamb is simply vicious in her caricatures, while Trix, at least, did not intend to cause any harm.”

  “And Trix learned her lesson,” said Cordelia. “Are you not going to tell me that Graham Hamilton is unsuitable for a girl of my age?”

  “No, for you will only hear the story from the gossips anyway, and you are old enough to make up your own mind on such things.”

  It was probably meant as a compliment, but Cordy felt the familiar melancholy that she’d been fighting since last Season seep back into her body.

  “Old enough! Undoubtedly, for I’m as good as an old maid, left on the shelf to gather dust!”

  Her mother didn’t look up from her correspondence. “Given up all hope, have you?”

  "Not at all,” she replied, rather upset at the allegation. “I might have already enjoyed several Seasons, but I think that I am still reasonably attractive.”

  “Reasonably so for one of such advanced years,” said her mother dryly.

  “But,” continued Cordy in a loud voice intended to demonstrate that she was ignoring Lady Delby’s comment, “the fact that Trix is married, and both of my little sisters are chomping at the bit for their first Season, is proof that I need to take my own prospects seriously this year, and intend to give myself every advantage. Hence the new clothes."

  Her mother, frowning at an invitation that looked as though it was from Lady Harden, gave her head a little shake before glancing up at her daughter. "We will find you a suitable peer to marry before the Season is out, my dear, there is no worry on that front. You could parade around in a sack cloth and they'd still offer for you."

  Cordelia sat up straight and attempted to imperiously glare at her mother.

  "Are you implying that my suitors are only interested in my fortune and family connections?"

  "Come down from the boughs, Cordy," sighed Lady Delby, placing the Harden's invitation onto the middle of three piles before picking up the next card. "You are an acknowledged diamond of the first water, sweet natured, and much admired for your intelligence and accomplishments. Your clothing, while serving it's purpose of highlighting your attributes, is not the reason for your desirability."

  "Lady Eugenia was considered a diamond as well, and she is very intelligent and accomplished," said Cordelia pointedly.

  Her mother's mouth kicked up, but she didn't pull her attention away from the task of sorting through the large pile of invitations still before her. "But Eugenia is not sweet natured, and her will is too strong for her to be universally liked. I was under the impression that the two of you were on friendly terms now."

  "In a way," said Cordelia, lying back onto the chaise. "She was good to Trix over the whole London House incident, and they have discovered they quite like each other. She can be a very amusing companion, and a well-informed one, but..."

  "But what?"

  Cordelia screwed up her face. "I hate myself for saying this, but... but I miss her dressing in puce, and I wish I had never mocked her for it! It never occurred to me that I might admire her determination to dress and act the way she wished until she stopped doing it, and to be perfectly honest, she's not half as interesting as she used to be."

  "And you think that's a result of her clothing?"

  "What else could it be?" replied Cordelia, faintly irritated that her famously well-dressed mother could not see why new garments and accessories from the best London shops were essential to her success.

  "I have some ideas," murmured Lady Delby, finally done with her pile of letters and cards. "Lord, I doubt we will spend a night at home this Season, for it seems that everyone has returned to the City this year. Well, not the Devenishes despite the recent marriage. One can only assume the Duke intends to present his wife next year, so that she has time to practice walking backwards in a court dress."

  "See? Even Devenish is married," Cordelia half wailed. "And so is Trix, and Henrietta, and William and Herbert! Herbert, of all people! Herbert Filey found someone to marry him, and she's both pretty and good natured and it's not fair in the least! It's enough to send me into a decline, Mama, for I never thought I would be the last to marry. Ten to one that Amelia Juneberry and Lady Eugenia will be engaged before the month is out, my sisters will convince you to bring them both Out even though there’s a year between them, and then take the Ton by storm next Season so that no one gives me so much as a second glance! I shall be condemned to spinsterhood, or else marry a foreigner or a nobody or both!"

  "It's not legal to marry more than one person at the same time, darling," said her mother with some amusement, "and even if it were, I am sure that it would be a trial to find both a foreign gentleman and a nobody who were willing to enter into such an arrangement."

  "You know what I meant," muttered Corde
lia.

  Lady Delby sighed as she pushed the tray away from her lap and motioned for Cordelia to come and sit with her. Despite Cordy's irritation, she got off the chaise and clambered up onto the bed so that she could flop into her mother's welcoming arms.

  "Your bonnet is crushed," observed Lady Delby. "You're supposed to take it off when you are indoors."

  "It's old fashioned and I have a new one downstairs," mumbled Cordelia. "Besides, I'm supposed to be going to make my morning calls, and I wish to meet the new Lady Arthur Weatherly and this ravishingly beautiful stepdaughter of hers. Ugh, can you believe that even Lord Arthur is married?”

  Her mother, who Cordy knew had harboured hopes of pairing her off with the infamously wealthy Lord Arthur, did not comment on this.

  “Are you going to visit the Cottinghams? If so, I would like you to pass a note on to Lady Cottingham – the elder, not Henrietta. How irritating that she refuses to use the title of Dowager to help us distinguish them, for she is one now, even if she doesn’t like it.”

  “I’m not calling there today, for Henrietta has some important family gathering arranged, and is not at home to visitors,” said Cordelia glumly. “I am to see her tomorrow instead, which I suppose I should be happy about, but I am not. I know being married and a mother and a Viscountess means she has obligations, but I haven’t seen her in an age. We always had time for each other in the past.”

  “Not all your friends are married,” said Lady Delby without any emotion. “Why not go visit Miss Juneberry?”

  “Because then I have to talk to her mother,” replied Cordelia. They both gave a little shudder at the thought.

  “Very well, but at least invite the girl to go about with you. Her mother is not at all the thing, I own, but the girl is a sweet child, and reminds me of dear Trix.”

  “Which means if I go about with her, she’ll be married within a month while I remain alone,” retorted Cordelia. “And now I have this beautiful Miss Lily Clyde – that’s Lady Arthur’s stepdaughter – to compete with! I had hoped that visiting Henrietta might give me an advantage, but it turns out that Miss Clyde is already known to the Cottinghams.”

  This comment drew Lady Delby’s attention. “What advantage?”

  Cordelia stared up at the ceiling. “Christopher Douglas is back from Canada," she said without enthusiasm.

  "Already?" said Lady Delby with surprise. "I thought he was planning to stay in Montreal for the foreseeable future."

  "He is, it's just a visit with some foreign friend of his," said Cordelia, before dismissing the unknown gentleman with a vague wave of her hand. "I thought I could marry Christopher, for although he's not in line for a title he is very well heeled in his own right. Knowing my luck, though, he's already engaged himself to some beautiful heiress, but even if he's not and we could convince ourselves to fall in love, he'll want to go back to Canada instead of remaining in England. That would not do, and I refuse to leave my homeland. He might have a few friends that I am not acquainted with, though. One can live in hope."

  "Cordelia, you have to stop this," said her mother gently as she forced her daughter to sit back up. "While your father and I both wish for you to have a happy marriage with a person you can love and respect, preferably with someone who likes us and lives within riding distance of the Estate, what matters is that you are content with your life. Not every woman marries, you know, and contrary to popular belief, many of them are perfectly happy that way when they have the money to support themselves. That's a luxury you most certainly have."

  Cordelia met her mother's gaze and gave her a small smile. Her parents had married for dynastic reasons rather than love but had been fond of each other since childhood. While they had never once displayed the type of passion spoken of in romantic novels, Cordy had witnessed their silent contentment in each other's company enough times to know that she wished the same for herself.

  Besides, she truly adored children, and would very much like her own one day, which meant that a husband was a requirement for her future. As much as her younger sisters and brother were irritating, she longed for the noise and chaos that came with a family and knew her parents would equally adore it.

  Not that she ever said any of this out loud.

  All the women Cordelia admired, from the Countess of Gloucester to Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Devenish, were strong, capable women. While it was true that they were all married, she did not think it had ever been their aspiration in life. They all had so much more to their nature, so much more to give the world.

  And Cordelia did not.

  Oh, she was skilled enough with watercolours and even oils, but while she enjoyed painting very much she had no desire to become a world-renowned artist, or even a locally recognized one. She had no other talent that marked her out, and all her real strengths lay in the domestic sphere.

  She had the ability to manage a large household, thanks to her mother’s teachings. She could entertain and engage everyone from Royalty to beggars without blinking and leave them all having enjoyed the conversation. She could plan and execute a large ball or soiree with a military precision that would make Lord Wellington wish she was part of his staff, and could wheedle her way into the graces of even the most recalcitrant harpy, meaning she almost always got what she needed from servants and society Ladies alike. She was excellent with children. She had a recognized eye for décor, although her taste and style were still evolving. All very domestic, very boring skills that made her excellent hostess material, but did not mark her for greatness.

  Most importantly, though, Cordelia was proud of these accomplishments, even if the only person who understood how hard she worked at them was her mother. No one, not even her darling Trix, knew how simple Cordelia’s ambitions truly were: a comfortable life with a loving husband, and an army of children to raise.

  She had not dared tell anyone about this secret wish, for even her parents assumed that her hopes for marriage rested on a title and status in society. They did not. Cordelia, while not so naïve as to think that life was easy on the lower rungs of society, did not believe that a coronet was essential to happiness. She was, however, pragmatic: a peerage was negotiable in a future husband, but as money was key to a comfortable existence, a modest fortune and a sizeable estate were not.

  "I would very much like to be married to the right man," she eventually said. "Or even just a nice man, so long as his prospects are comfortable."

  "That’s not true, Cordelia. You've known plenty of unexceptional gentlemen who would make perfectly amiable husbands. You want more than just nice, or else you would have married William Standish."

  The mention of her longtime friend and his new wife momentarily diverted her as she considered the odd yet ideally matched couple.

  "Wait until you meet her, Mama, for she is not at all the type of person you would think would fall in love with William! How Lydia puts up with him I will never know, but they are a perfect match you know, even if no one would have laid odds upon it." replied Cordelia.

  “It is sometimes impossible to know who will be a happy couple until they match,” commented her mother. “I look forward to meeting William’s wife.”

  Cordelia sighed as her thoughts returned to her own loveless state. "That's what I want, I suppose, but the problem is that I already know everyone of consequence. Every available gentleman of marriageable age, respectability and adequate fortune is known to us in some capacity, and I cannot say that I would consider marrying any of them!"

  "Perhaps there will be some new people in Town this year," said her mother with an optimistic smile. "We don't know everyone, darling, even though it may feel that way at times."

  "And knowing my luck, the only man to catch my fancy will be a foreign nobody without a penny to his name," Cordy muttered. She pushed herself back up into a sitting position with a shocking lack of grace. "I must go, Mama. I need to change this insipid bonnet for something ravishing before I go to make my morning calls. Perhaps it w
ill inspire someone of adequate intelligence, kindness and fortune to fall in love with me and offer on the spot. One can hope, I suppose."

  "You will feel better once we start attending parties again," promised Lady Delby.

  Cordelia was not convinced, but it seemed churlish to argue the point. She settled for a kiss on her mother's cheek, before heading out to fetch her bonnet in the hope it would exert magical power and bring her future husband into her path.

  *

  "Christopher, mon ami, you seem most eager to reach the home of Lord Arthur. I promise you we have plenty of time,” said Jacques Gautereau with a bemused glance at his friend. “Or perhaps it is because you are so used to the buildings of London that you do not wish to dawdle and admire them.”

  Christopher Douglas, a member of the Hudson’s Bay Trading Company and younger brother of Baron Cottingham, slowed his pace and flashed a rueful grin at his friend.

  “Rats, I thought you would have been done with admiring the brickwork by now, Jack. When you’ve seen one row of houses in London, I’m sure you’ve seen them all,” he replied, dropping into his perfect French.

  Jacques replied in kind, as comfortable as his friend in both languages.

  “Ah, but that is where you are mistaken,” he replied, motioning to the nearest buildings. “These ones are very Palladian with their classic arches and such. The ones we passed earlier were reserved, almost brutal in the way they faced the world. Perhaps it is because of the class of their inhabitants, or the time they were built, or the mood of the architect.”

  Christopher pulled a face. “Keep up with that nonsense, my friend, and I’ll start thinking you’re a poet. England just got rid of Byron, and I don’t think she’s ready to accept another just yet!”

  “And you have no romance in your soul, Christopher. I have no idea why we are friends,” sighed Jacques.