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

Jacques smiled. "You have a fondness for Trajan, Monsieur?"

  "I've tried to buy him twice already, but for all Shropshire likes to pretend that he's an excellent businessman, he's dashed reluctant to part with any of his animals."

  "Even if he were happy to, ma cousine objects to selling anything from the stables, or at least that's how I understand it."

  "Henrietta!" scoffed Lord Delby, and it was difficult to tell if it was meant as a compliment or a cut. "What about you, Monsieur Gautereau? What are your thoughts?"

  "I do not think it is any business of mine," he replied with a casual shrug. Lord Delby turned those hard eyes back on him, and Jacques had to fight the impulse to stand with his head bowed and his hands clasped before him like an errant schoolboy.

  "We both know it will be your business eventually," said the Earl softly. "You look just like John Cartwright, you know. I'm hardly the first one to notice it, although few seem to have put two and two together the way I have, but then I have an advantage over them."

  Jacques forced himself to hold Lord Delby's gaze. "And what would that be?"

  The Earl merely smiled. "I knew John better than anyone, and we kept up our correspondence even after he left the country."

  "Father, please don't pester Monsieur Jacques about Trajan," said Cordelia as she came bouncing over to them, effectively ending their conversation. "I've already asked Henrietta about it, and she has much more sway with the Marquis than anyone when it comes to horses."

  Lord Delby tore his eyes away from Jacques, and visibly softened when his gaze came to rest upon his daughter.

  "You catch me out, child, but one cannot blame me for trying. However, I believe Sir John may have influence, so perhaps I will try him."

  "Henrietta says that her grandfather never forgave Sir John over some racing horse or another, so I wouldn't think so, even if they are still friends," said Cordelia, looking thoughtful. "If I were you, I'd try to get the Marchioness to champion your cause, for if there is anyone who can make Lord Shropshire do something he doesn't like, it's her."

  "Then I shall enlist your mother to help sway Lady Shropshire," replied Lord Delby, nodding at his wife as she made her way towards them. "Cordelia, perhaps you should show Monsieur Jacques here the way to the back lawn, for it seems his own family have abandoned him."

  Jacques did not miss the way Lord Delby mimicked the familiar term of address his daughter used.

  "They're just squabbling like usual," said Cordelia cheerfully," but I will take him to Lady Gloucester in a moment, since she instructed me to do so on pain of being refused the salmon at lunch. She's awfully fond of him, you know."

  "Ginger ice with lemon and mint," said Jacques, and secretly enjoyed the look of confusion on the Earl's face.

  "Come along, darling," said Lady Delby, tucking her arm through that of her husband. "There seems to be twice as many people as last year, and I am determined to find the perfect spot for lunch. Monsieur Gautereau, you are welcome to join us once your duties to your family are discharged. I would very much like you to tell Delby the story about the grizzly bear and her cubs, for you had me laughing so hard tears fell down my cheeks last time!"

  Jacques who was fairly certain that he had inspired nothing more than a faint smile on the face of Cordelia's mother, nonetheless bowed deeply.

  "It would be my pleasure, Madam Delby."

  "So charming," she said with a smile, and then both she and her husband took their leave.

  Jacques begged a moment from Cordelia to finish brushing down Trajan before he handed the magnificent animal off to one of the grooms. It felt as though there was an army of servants milling about outside of Kelwick Manor, and he could only suppose that the Marquis and Marchioness had hired extra staff for the picnic. Footmen were handing out glasses of chilled champagne to each guest as they reached the lawn, where a series of elaborate bowers covered picnic blankets and cushions. A small band had set up beneath a clump of oak trees, their music floating out across the grounds.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" said Cordelia. "I have joked that I would like the Shropshires to adopt me if this is their idea of a small entertainment, but every year they outdo themselves. Would you like me to show you around before I deliver you to Lady Gloucester?"

  "Oui, Cordelia, I would like that very much," he said, and offered her his arm.

  She was as lively and engaging as ever, pointing out the area set aside for a shooting competition, another for a game of cricket, and the rowing boats moored at the edge of the nearby river. There were plans for gig racing - even one for the ladies, despite how dashing that was considered - or spots for people to just sit, relax, and enjoy the entertainment provided by their peers. It was evident that the Marquis and Marchioness took their hosting duties seriously, and Jacques felt a knot of panic start to grow at the pit of his stomach.

  "The Kelwick Manor picnic is perhaps my favourite thing on the social calendar," she finished with a happy sigh. "When you consider how many entertainments are available to us, then you know how high a compliment that is!"

  Jacques, surveying the immaculately set up lawn, swallowed hard.

  "Is this an expectation for a Marquis?"

  She considered for a moment before answering.

  "Perhaps not on so lavish a scale, and not necessarily a picnic, but entertainments and parties? Yes, they are very much expected of all peers, and especially those with any hope of political influence. I know we might just look like gadabout mayflies, but there is a lot of work involved in being a member of the Ton." She paused, and cocked her head to one side. "At least there is if you do it properly. There are a great many peers who do nothing but squander their fortunes and neglect their duties. Father despises them, for he says that the mark of a truly great peer is not how fashionable he is, but how well he takes care of his people."

  "His staff and friends?"

  "Yes, but also his tenants, his tradespeople, his King, his business partners, and anyone who looks to him for leadership. If you include the towns and villages around our estates as well as the people living and working on them, then Father is easily responsible for the wellbeing of ten thousand souls at least. Jacques, are you feeling well? You look queasy all of a sudden."

  "So many people," he said.

  Cordelia frowned. "I suppose, but if you consider his seat in the Lords then he has a duty to the entire country, which is at least... Jacques, let us go sit down. Should I fetch someone for you?"

  "Non, I am just... I need some shade, I think. Away from that band! Mon dieu, who would consider that racket music?"

  She smiled, but there was still concern in her eyes. "There is a lovely little wilderness at the river edge, just past the boat house, that Henrietta showed me last year. You can sit down and catch your breath back there before I take you to Lady Gloucester."

  He nodded agreement, but his mind remained on the information she had shared with him about the life of a peer. It was not that he was afraid of responsibility, for he'd been working towards a career in the North West Company, and Pere had always emphasized his duty towards the trappers and voyageurs, and the importance of taking care of the men in his employ. Still, he had always assumed that a few dozen at most would be dependent on him, and even if he included every friend and family member it would not rise much over a hundred.

  How could he possibly take this on? He knew nothing of estate management, or of managing any business interests beyond the fur trade. Heirs usually spent their whole lives learning how to take over from their fathers or grandfathers, and at the very least were familiar with the ways of the English aristocracy. What hope did he have as a foreign-born son who had eschewed anything to do with his father's family since he was old enough to gnaw on the bone handle of Pere's hunting knife?

  "Here," said Cordelia. "There is a bench we can use, and you can still see everything without having to be a part of it."

  He gave her a grateful smile as he took a seat on the stone bench. It was cold consid
ering the warmth of that day, but he welcomed the bite. They were in the shade of another oak that looked fat enough to be older than Kelwick Manor itself, and a slight breeze from the river made the green leaves rustle and dance. Cordelia had been correct in that it was both a cool and quiet location, but it was far from private. They had a view across the lawn all the way to the house and drive in the distance, and so the mass of people laughing, eating, or partaking in the various activities were all visible. Jacques could make out Lord and Lady Shropshire strolling about together, stopping at every group of guests to share a few words before moving on. From this distance they looked many years younger, for the Marquis walked with a straight and tall back, and the Marchioness, in her beautiful, stylish dress, twirled a dainty parasol on her shoulder as they sauntered about arm in arm. They never moved apart, and when they bent their heads together it was easy to imagine them as a young couple in the first throws of love.

  Before all the expectations and responsibilities of their role were heaped upon their shoulders.

  He started to feel sick again.

  "Lovely, isn't it?" said Cordelia, following his gaze. "So many years together, and yet they are the closest of friends and the sweetest of couples."

  "They have both been very welcoming to me," he said, marveling that her thoughts had gone in such a different direction to his own. "I confess that I like them very much."

  Cordelia nodded, and then pointed to Sir John and Lady Lade, who had joined the Marquis and Marchioness.

  "It's a terribly unpopular thing to say, but I think the same about the Lades. Mother says that Letitia is of a disreputable background, which I think means she was a courtesan before she married Sir John, but no one will tell me for certain. She is not universally liked because of her manners or the casual way she uses profanity, and I know my parents tolerate rather than accept her, but you cannot deny how well matched she is with Sir John or that they are happy together. They are not in the least bit responsible nor even that influential now that Prince George is the Regent, but they are happy, and I think that is laudable."

  “More so than being a truly great peer?”

  “Baronets are not peers, though, so I don’t think it counts for them,” she replied, and he could not tell whether she was being serious or not.

  He looked up at her and knew at once she was no longer thinking about the Lades. Jacques studied the thoughtful, almost melancholic expression on Cordelia’s face as she surveyed all the couples and families before them. He didn't miss the way her eyes rested on Lord Loughcroft as he carried his child about on his hip while Lord Cottingham did similar with Hart.

  "You are not in love, Cordelia?" he asked, his voice barely over a murmur.

  They both knew what he meant.

  "I've never met someone that I considered a good match for me," she sighed. "I've fancied myself in love half a dozen times, but it always died within a fortnight. Now I am simply looking for someone who I can be comfortable with."

  "You deserve more than comfort," he said, unable to take his eyes away from her. "It occurs to me that you have been nothing but a friend and supporter as I learn the Ton, and yet I have done little for you in return."

  She glanced at him and smiled. "I'm afraid that I did have selfish motives for helping you, for it allowed me to spend more time with Christopher. Wait - you are not surprised?"

  He chuckled. "I have many sisters, Cordy. I know when a girl is determined."

  "How mortifying," she said, looking a touch queasy herself.

  Jacques rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the words he needed. It was odd to discover that while he had never had any trouble putting a word into the ears of his sisters, with Cordelia he hardly knew where to start.

  "Christopher is very personable to ladies, I think. And he finds them very personable, too."

  Her expression hardened, but remained on the crowds rather than on Jacques.

  "Yes, he is very considerate of all women, which is to his credit."

  “Oui. He does not single out even one young lady for attention.”

  “Because he understands that to do so could call her reputation into question,” she replied, the ice in her tone enough to drop the temperature between them. “I know you are still learning the ways of London Society but you can be sure that Christopher Douglas knows them implicitly.”

  Jacques ran a hand through his hair. This was not going well, but he could not keep silent. He told himself it was for his sister and her happiness, and so he had no choice but to continue.

  "I have known him to have many favourites during our friendship. I do not think he is a man that would make you comfortable, Cordelia. He is not the husband for you."

  Her cheeks flared to a bright red, but still she did not turn to look at him. Her tone when she did speak was cool and measured, but only a fool would not hear the anger bubbling just below the surface.

  "I beg leave to inform you, Monsieur Gautereau, that we are not on sufficiently friendly terms for you to give me such advice. I am not your sister."

  "Thankfully," he said without thinking, and his heart flipped over as he realised what he had said.

  Cordelia, however, misunderstood his meaning.

  "Console yourself with the knowledge that you will never be responsible for me. I am not a fool, Monsieur, and I know that you have decided that Christopher should marry into your family when you return to Montreal. Perhaps he will. Or perhaps he will understand the great honour of marrying the eldest daughter of Lord Delby and what that can do for his career."

  "Any man who marries you for his career is unworthy of kissing the ground beneath your feet," he replied, his voice rough with anger he didn't understand. "When you marry, Cordelia, it should be for a man who knows he is unworthy, but who will spend his life trying to be so. A man who would wake every morning content in the knowledge that his wife was the finest woman on any continent, and that thanks to sheer luck you had chosen him. Marry a man who loves you, not because you are the daughter of Delby, but because you are Cordelia, who adores family, history, art and entertaining. Who knows she is not perfect and yet tries to be better. Who knows her privileged position comes with expectations and responsibilities, but does not shy from them. Marry a man who loves you, and that you love, because that is what you deserve, ma cherie. You deserve everything that you desire."

  She did not answer straight away, but when she finally turned her head towards him he was horrified to see tears filling those angry brown eyes.

  "And who is this mythical man of whom you speak?" she demanded. "Do you not think I have been searching for years? Do you think I am so foolish as to still believe a man who could love me for myself exists? Or are you suggesting that it is you who should be my husband, Monsieur Gautereau? Is that what you are saying?"

  The accusation caught him off guard, and his immediate reaction was to splutter an incoherent denial.

  Her laugh was scornful.

  "As I thought; you only say such pretty things to turn my head away from Christopher, who is the only man I can think of who has a hope of giving me what I want. It is only because you wish him to marry your sister instead, for I have noticed how often you mention Marie-Thérèse when in his company!"

  "It is a mistake, Cordelia," he said, so many thoughts rushing about his head that he could barely organise his thoughts.

  "No, it was a mistake to think that a foreign nobody would wish to be my friend without expecting something in return," snapped Cordelia as she got to her feet. "I fear I must cancel any outstanding arrangements that we have, Monsieur Gautereau, as I have neglected my other duties. I'm sure Henrietta can help you from now on."

  "Cordelia," he said, but trailed off as she walked away from him without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

  He got to his feet and began to make his way over to Abby and George, but already knew that he would not speak a word of what had transpired. The Gloucesters might well be fond of him, and in time perhaps he
would think of them as his relatives, but there was no substitution for his parents and grandparents, or even his sisters to tease him out of his mood.

  Jacques swore, and wished more than ever that his family were there to turn to.

  *

  Lord Shropshire, enjoying a rare moment alone as his wife’s attention was engaged by friends, watched with interest as the young Lady Cordelia left Jacques alone by the river to join a group of young people engaged in a game of cricket. Even from this distance he could tell that her eyes were bright, her laugh too loud and her manner too carefree to be natural. Perhaps it was his years raising Henrietta that had attuned him to such signals.

  Or perhaps it was because young Jacques, still by the river, looked thoroughly miserable.

  "Interesting young man, that heir of yours," said Lord Delby as he joined the Marquis. "I've heard much about him, but confess that I did not make the connection until today."

  The Marquis, who had always considered Delby shrewd if somewhat serious, turned to regard the younger man.

  "My heir?" he asked politely.

  Delby chuckled before taking a sip of champagne.

  "Undoubtedly so, although I am not sure why you have decided to conceal it. I am certain the Lades know who he is as well, although they do not realise his legitimacy."

  "And who would that be?"

  Delby lost his smile as irritation took over. The Marquis was quietly smug that he could still ruffle the feathers of his juniors, and rather enjoyed doing so. It was good to remind them that, while he was old enough to be their father, his mind remained strong.

  "I would prefer it if you do not play games, Shropshire, for I am not your enemy here. Far from it, in fact! I doubt you knew it at the time, but John Cartwright was my closest friend in our Oxford days, and if Monsieur Gautereau is not his son then I'll box with one of the King's kangaroos in Green park at dawn."

  "I am tempted to deny it just to see such a spectacle," replied Shropshire, which at least earned a gruff laugh from the younger lord. "I am glad you see the resemblance. I thought him a ghost from my past when I first laid eyes on the boy, and the poor thing had no idea he was my heir. I don't know which of us received the bigger shock."