unexpected heir

by

Plot twist in WIP Wednesday

The excerpt is from Chaos Come Again, which I intend for release in June.

The shock came after dinner was over. The earl shook his head at his daughter, who had stood as a signal to the ladies that it was time to leave the room. When she resumed her seat, he tapped a spoon on his glass to demand silence. He let his gaze travel around the table, finishing with Lionel and Dorothea. “I have given much thought to what I wanted to say, and how to say it,” he began.

“I have chosen this occasion because my grandson deserves that the news I am about to share is spread as far as possible, and I shall count on those here at my table to pass on the story I am about to relate.”

The corner of his mouth quirked in a fraction of a smile. “Lion, here, is going to ask why I did not warn him. Well, all I can say in my defence is that when I planned this dinner party, I expected him to have been here well before it. Lion, I accept that your news took priority over mine.”

Lionel inclined his head.

“Nineteen years ago, my grandson arrived from India, with documents that proved he was the son of my deceased eldest son, Anthony Lord Harcourt. One of the documents claimed to prove that my son had married his mother, the daughter of an Indian woman and an Irish sergeant. I did not believe it. Nonetheless, I sent agents to discover the facts.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the table.

“All the adults in the story were dead. My son. Sergeant O’Toole. His daughter and her mother. It took time for my agents to uncover witnesses who could speak to the truth of the documents Lionel had brought with him. By the time they returned, two years had passed. My second son was known everywhere as Lord Harcourt, and Lion had been accepted as my illegitimate but recognised grandson.”

With a sigh, his hands shaking, he faced Lion. His eyes were anguished as he said. “Lionel, I will not ask for your forgiveness, for I do not deserve it. My agents found witnesses to your parents marriage, including the wife of the parson who performed the service. He had also died, but his wife was at the wedding and swore that it was a true and legal union.”

Beside Dorothea, Lionel had frozen in place, and when Dorothea put her hand on his to assure him of her support, the skin beneath her fingers felt cold to the touch.

The earl, his voice anguished, continued, “But to tell Harry that he was not the heir; to tell his wife! You were already speaking of a military career. I decided to say nothing; to leave matters as they were. It was a dreadful thing to do. I knew it at the time. I knew it every time I looked at you from the day I realised I had wronged you.”

Lion’s face had turned as hard as granite and his voice was strained, as he said. “My parent were truly married?”

The earl nodded. “You are the legitimate son of my eldest son, Lord Harcourt by right of birth, and soon to be Earl of Ruthford after me. I have notified the Committee for Privileges.”

Lionel said nothing, but his muscles under Dorothea’s hand tensed still further, which should not have been possible.

Mr Foxton leapt to his feet and hurried around the table, sporting a broad smile. “Lion, that is wonderful. Grandfather, you must be delighted. Lion will be a superlative earl. As one of those under his command, I can assure you of that.” He reached Lionel and gave his shoulder a robust punch. “We must have champagne! I cannot think of anyone who deserves a peerage more! Just think how thrilled the tenants and servants will be not to be subjected to our second cousin and his wife!”

With Mr Foxton, the others at the table stood to offer their own congratulations. Lionel stood to receive them, baring his teeth in a parody of a smile, clinging to Dorothea’s hand as if he feared being swept under by the surge of goodwill.

“I don’t want it,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. But Foxton and the earl both pretended they had not heard, and nobody else was listening.

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Tea with Gil

The invitation had been for the new Viscount Rutledge, but Her Grace of Haverford was unsurprised to find his mother had accompanied him. The duchess had never warmed to Lady Rutledge, but the woman must be tolerated for the sake of her son, who deserved her support. Lord Rutledge, or Gil as his friends called him, faced an uphill battle to reinstate the wealth and reputation of the title he had just inherited after the excesses of his disgraceful rakehell of a brother.

“Of course, Rutledge is nothing like his brother,” Lady Rutledge complained. “My dear Gideon knew what he owed the title. Why, he would never have missed the Season. As for involving himself in estate business like some kind of peasant! Gideon would have no more demeaned his whole family in such a manner than he would have appeared in public in last year’s fashions.”

Eleanor was well aware of how the former Lord Rutledge spent the Season when he and his mother came up to Town, leaving the man’s poor little wife at home in the country. Gideon Rutledge seldom appeared in a gathering for polite Society, and would have been evicted from most had he tried. He was, however, to be found throwing money like water wherever vice and debauchery reigned. Hence the challenge facing his successor.

The duchess entered the lists on the side of the new viscount. “I am always delighted to see a peer who values the welfare of his people and his estate above his own pleasures,” she said. “Lord Rutledge, your many years of successful leadership in the service of the King will undoubtedly stand you in good stead as you face these new challenges.”

“Rutledge’s only challenge,” Lady Rutledge insisted, “is finding a wealthy bride willing to accept such a barbarian.” She shrugged. “The title covers a multitude of sins.”

Eleanor only just avoided showing her astonishment. To call one’s son a barbarian before a mere acquaintance! Was the woman mad? “It certainly did,” she countered. “How glad you must be that your second son is so much more responsible and civilised than your first.”

It was Lady Rutledge’s turn to gape. “Gideon? Are you calling Gideon uncivilised? Why, he always dressed in the first stare of fashion, and he knew all the on dits. He was even invited to Carlton House and the Duke of Richport was an intimate friend.”  She sat back proudly, clearly confident that she had rousted the opposition with the final argument.

Gil Rutledge caught Eleanor’s eye. He gave a slight shake of the head, before asking, “The landscape over the fireplace, Your Grace, is that one of the ducal estates? I do not recognise the house, but the painting is truly lovely.”

Eleanor accepted the change of subject, and followed his lead in ruthlessly keeping conversation during the remainder of the call on innocuous topics. Lady Rutledge followed the footman out after the requisite half hour. Gil remained long enough to say, “Thank you, Your Grace. It does no good to talk sense to my mother, but I appreciate you making the effort.”

“Hurry up, Rutledge,” Lady Rutledge’s voice called, but the duchess put a hand on the viscount’s sleeve to detain him.

“Lord Rutledge, I have heard many good things about you. You have the respect of much of Society; certainly of those who count. My nephew stands your friend, I know, and my son and I are pleased to know you. Remember that, when your mother’s insults become burdensome.”

The young man’s sombre mood lifted a little and he smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he said again.

***

Gil Rutledge is the hero of The Realm of Silence. Check it out for more about the burdens he faces and how a love he believes he does not deserve finds him anyway.