“If Stephen is indeed as wealthy as rumor has it, and if he has successfully assumed responsibility for increasing that wealth, I would like to try to make him my legal heir.”
Clayton’s expression thawed to a wry smile as he slowly sat back down. “I believe you have just provided a suitable inducement.”
“If I name Stephen as my heir, he will inherit very little land and virtually no income. Long ago, our branch of the family was as well off as yours, but my ancestors had little prudence, less foresight, and absolutely no knack for holding onto their wealth. As a result, my ‘estates’ are in disrepair and practically worthless, but the titles I hold are old and prestigious. If I die without taking formal steps to alter the outcome, then my titles and lands would pass automatically to you. Until recent rumors made me think Stephen might have a knack for managing money, I was content for you to inherit from me. By letting you inherit, I knew I could depend on your sense of responsibility—as well as your wealth—to maintain my holdings and put them in better repair than I have been able to do.”
As if he was uncertain how to go on, he paused for a moment, studying the pattern of pale vines on the carpet at his feet, then he shifted his cane from its resting place beside his right hip and moved it to his left. Finally, he lifted his head, and with great dignity, he said, “You hold many titles, most of them far more grand than the ones you would inherit from me, and my ‘estates’ are nothing in comparison to your own. At the risk of seeming to be very proud of very little, it would make me happy if I could leave what I do have to a man who doesn’t already have more titles than he can remember and more inherited estates than he can possibly use. We have a large, far-flung family from which I could choose an heir, but I would like my heir to be a man I know very well and one whom I particularly like. Your brother fulfills all those qualifications.”
“I am very happy to hear that,” Clayton said with an encouraging grin.
“And like you, he is also a very responsible man who understands and fulfills his obligations to his family and to those who depend upon him.”
“Yes, he is,” Clayton said.
“So my only remaining concern about naming Stephen my heir is this: He inherited his original wealth, but in your opinion, will he be able to maintain it on his own? Is he prudent and wise about managing money and would he take good care of my estates?”
“Stephen is everything you need him to be,” Clayton said, “and a great deal more than that.”
The earl’s face broke into a smile, then he looked troubled and transferred his gaze to the carpet again. “I assumed you wouldn’t object to my plan or feel slighted in any way.” He glanced up suddenly. “Was I correct?”
Clayton’s smile was unmistakably warm and genuine. “You were completely correct.”
“Excellent, then it’s settled. I shall take the necessary steps to insure that Stephen becomes the next Earl of Langford and Baron of Ellingwood, as well as the Fifth Viscount Hargrove.” He reached for his cane, transferred it to his right side and struggled to a standing position. Clayton waited beside him, allowing him the dignity of managing on his own, but ready to offer his arm for support if he reached for it.
Once the earl was upright and shuffling slowly forward, Clayton voiced his only concern about Langford’s plan. “Are you certain you’ll be able to legally transfer your titles to Stephen?”
He waited until Clayton had opened the door for him before he replied. “My titles are ones that King Henry VII granted to our family over three hundred years ago. Thanks to the wisdom and foresight of our mutual ancestor, the first Duke of Claymore, these three titles contain a recorded exception to the normal lines of descent. The exceptions allow the holder of the title, if childless, to choose his own heir, so long as the heir is a direct descendant of one of the dukes of Claymore. Which Stephen is.”
Clayton knew there was no such recorded exception to his own title, but since there had never been a childless Duke of Claymore, neither Clayton, nor his father, nor his grandfathers had ever needed to be concerned about that title. Purely out of curiosity, he decided to research the other titles he held, but the earl’s worried reminder pulled him from those thoughts.
“Claymore, although I did not keep silent until you gave me your word to keep our discussion completely confidential, I nevertheless believe it was understood between us that you would.”
“It was understood,” Clayton said, although he would have liked to have been allowed to discuss the matter with Stephen.
“I have excellent reasons for requiring secrecy,” the earl confided as they neared one of the salons near the front of the house. “I won’t have a peaceful moment left to me if some of the other eligible heirs in my family get wind of the fact that I plan to name my own heir, rather than letting the titles pass automatically to you.”
“You won’t?” Clayton said, his attention diverted by Stephen, who was standing near the fireplace in the salon, talking to an exquisite flaxen-haired beauty.
When the earl received no reply to his remark about the other heirs, he realized the duke was distracted and followed the direction of his gaze, then he asked, “Do you recognize the young woman with your brother?”
“No, I’ve never met her,” Clayton replied.
“Oh yes, indeed you have,” the earl argued, sounding as if he were relishing his little mystery. “You know her father as well.” As proof, he nodded toward the side of the room where the Duke of Lansberry was in conversation with Whitney. “The blond girl is Lansberry’s daughter, Lady Emily. He introduced me to her this morning.”
The Duke of Lansberry was dark, with a short, square build, and a coarse-featured face that verged on ugly—and his two middle-aged sons looked exactly like him. To Clayton it seemed almost impossible to believe that same man could have sired such a willowy, delicate beauty.
The earl guessed his thoughts and provided the explanation. “She’s the child of Lansberry’s second marriage. The second wife was the daughter of a French aristocrat who was half Lansberry’s age and who died in childbirth, in France, a year after their wedding. Come to think of it, you might never have met Lady Emily after all. She told me she’s only been to England on a few occasions.”
“Where has he been hiding her?” Clayton asked without thinking as he settled the elderly man into a comfortable chair.
“I wondered that myself,” the earl admitted with a chuckle, “but one could scarcely blame him for trying to lock her away from all the young bucks and old roués in England until she was old enough to beat them off herself. When you’re introduced to her, do not fail to notice her eyes. They are the color of dark blue violets, I swear it.”
* * *
Clayton had several opportunities to study Emily Kendall during the course of the day, but he was far more interested in Stephen’s reaction—or more specifically his complete lack of reaction—to Lady Emily’s presence. Most of the males in the house were visibly captivated by her, and both of Stephen’s friends were dancing attendance on her. Stephen, on the other hand, was behaving as if he scarcely noted her presence. In fact, he spent all his time being particularly charming to the two young women in his party whose escorts were clustered around Emily. Since Stephen had known both those young women since childhood, and since he normally treated them with the relaxed tolerance of a big brother, Clayton found his courtly behavior to them now of particular interest.
Whitney noticed it too and remarked on it to Clayton as soon as he and the other men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room after enjoying the male ritual of cigars and port after supper. Slipping her hand into Clayton’s, she drew him subtly to a private corner of the large room, then she said in a low, amused voice, “Have yo
u noticed that Stephen is virtually ignoring Emily?”
“I have,” Clayton replied, studying Whitney’s expression. “What do you think of her?”
Whitney hesitated, trying to be both honest and fair. “Well, she is one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen, and she has lovely manners, but there’s an aura about her of . . .”
“Conceit?” Clayton speculated bluntly.
“That’s possible. But it’s also possible that she is merely a little shy.”
“From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t seem to have the slightest bit of trouble conversing with people.”
“She is perfectly comfortable with women and with older men,” Whitney agreed, “and she has a delightful wit, but I noticed she becomes rather formal around Stephen’s friends. From what she said, I gather she’s been raised by some elderly relatives in Brussels, so she may not know how to react to the sort of sophisticated banter and flirtatious conversations that Stephen’s set indulges in. Rather than bringing her to live in England, her father evidently chose to visit her in Brussels. She scarcely knows her half-brothers and their wives.”
Clayton watched Stephen, who was seated with his two female companions at the opposite end of the room from Emily. “She has certainly made an impression on Stephen,” he said with a chuckle. “In fact, I would say he could probably tell you, without looking around, where she is at this very moment, and who is talking to her.”
“Do you really think so?” Whitney asked dubiously.