Lord Patrick's Heir: Regency Romance

By Marina Oliver

Who will be the next Earl? When the Earl of Aylesford is killed in a riding accident, they have to wait for his child to be born. If it's a boy he will inherit. If not the title goes to Lord Patrick's brother Martin, but he is in America and has not been heard of for some time. The next heir is cousin Etienne. Then Martin's wife and son appear, saying Martin is dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Belgrave House
• Release date: Aug 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781947812598

Marina Oliver

Most writers can't help themselves! It's a compulsion. Getting published, though, is something really special, and having been so fortunate myself I now try to help aspiring writers by handing on tips it took me years to work out. I've published over 60 titles, including four in the How To Books' Successful Writing Series, and Writing Historical Fiction for Studymates. I have judged short story competitions, been a final judge for the Harry Bowling Prize and was an adviser to the 3rd edition of Twentieth Century Romance and Historical Writers 1994. If you want to find out more about your favourite authors, consult this book. I once wrote an article on writing romantic fiction for the BBC's web page, for Valentine's day. I have given talks and workshops for the Arts Council and at most of the major Writing Conferences, and helped establish the Romantic Novelists' Association's annual conference. I was Chairman of the RNA 1991-3, ran their New Writers' Scheme and edited their newsletter. I am now a Vice-President. As well as writing I have edited books for Transita, featuring women 'of a certain age', and for Choc Lit where gorgeous heros are the norm. I was asked to write A Century of Achievement, a 290 page history of my old school, Queen Mary's High School, Walsall, and commissioned to write a book on Castles and Corvedale to accompany a new circular walk in the area. Most of my Regencies written under the pseudonym Sally James are now published in ebook format as well as many others of my out of print novels which my husband is putting into ebook format. Our daughter Debbie is helping with designing the covers. For details of all my books and my many pseudonyms see my website.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The two older women, swathed in black and heavily veiled, sat by the window overlooking the mile-long drive that led to the village, peering through the sheeting rain. They had not spoken to the younger pair all afternoon. The two young women, both slim, tall and blonde, also wearing black, but of a more restrained fashion, sat as far away from them as they could, on hard chairs either side of a small card table.

'She blames me for Patrick's death,' the older of the two said quietly.

'Margaret! That's ridiculous! His horse fell at a ditch, how could that be your fault?'

'I should have prevented him from hunting, she maintains, until this babe is born.' She grinned suddenly. 'She also blames Etienne though, because he was hunting that day. He was close to Patrick's body when he fell.'

Helena laughed. 'Black crows!'

Margaret protested, but she was smiling.

'It was never her precious Patrick's fault, though we all know he over-reached his horses. You know he did. She'd blame anyone else, you or Etienne, or me, if she could think of some excuse.'

She barely knew Etienne, it was years since she'd seen him he was always away somewhere. That must be why he hadn't attended the funeral. All she could recall of him was a tall, dark man with smiling eyes, always impeccably dressed.

Margaret shrugged. 'I'm still to blame, in her view.'

'That's foolish! Patrick Carterton never listened to anyone, and why on earth should he give up hunting? And what had Etienne to do with it? How could he be to blame? What difference could it make if he was near Patrick?'

Margaret ignored the question. 'If the child is another girl, she wanted Patrick to make Martin his heir. To everything. He was always her favourite.'

'But surely he would be the heir? If you had no son. He is Patrick's only brother.'

'Only to the entailed estate and the title. There is still a lot of unentailed land, and the London house, that Patrick has left to me and the girls.'

'And the old witch wanted to deprive you of it all? That's monstrous!'

'Hush! Keep your voice down.'

With a guilty look at the older ladies Helena lowered her voice. 'Well, he can't do that now he's dead.'

'I was fond of him, in a way,' Margaret said slowly. 'Papa thought it a good match. Patrick's grandfather, his mother's father, John Starkey, owned dozens of coal mines in the north and a whole fleet of merchant ships. He was the wealthiest man in Lancashire. And before Papa inherited his cousin's estates we were very poor. All we had was the title.'

'And not a very important one,' Helena said with a suppressed giggle. 'I suppose John the first didn't know the difference. He thought an Irish Earl was as good as an English one.'

'John the first! How pretentious. And now we have John the second and John the third. It's so ridiculous!'

'Especially when the second and the third Sharkeys are doing their best to spend it all as fast as possible from what Papa says.'

Margaret held up her hand. 'Listen! The carriages are back.' She sighed. 'Now we will have to have the will read, and I'll hazard the Dowager will complain at every last thing.'

'I insist my own doctor attends your accouchement.'

Patrick's elderly solicitor and his assistant had left. As Margaret had predicted the Dowager had interrupted the reading of the will constantly. She objected to all the legacies left to servants and friends, saying they were far too generous, and Patrick had been misled or coerced into offering so much. The solicitor had listened to her courteously, but when she berated him for drawing up such a will he had somewhat testily informed her that he was employed to follow his client's instructions, not to question them.

It was only when he reached the legacies to Margaret and her daughters, and the Dowager was still complaining, that the solicitor became rather less than legally impartial.

'You would have your son's wife left destitute?' he demanded. 'That is what you are implying by your objections to their receiving a fair settlement.'

'They can return to her father. He, after all, now has the income to maintain them, which he did not have at the time of that imprudent marriage. As for leaving the family house in London away from the family, it's iniquitous! It belongs to me!'

'You may challenge the will if you wish, Ma'am, but I can assure you it will be validated. As for the Grosvenor Square House, it was bought by my client, and was his, not part of the entailed estate.'

She listened to the rest in silence, but shaking her head and muttering to her brother, John the second. The solicitor left, saying he would call again soon to go over the details with Margaret. It was immediately after he had left that the Dowager had made her announcement.

Margaret was too astonished to speak. It was Helena who broke the silence.

'What on earth for? Margaret has an excellent midwife who will attend her. Not even her own doctor would be present unless there are serious complications, and there never have been when the three girls were born.'

'Be silent! As a young girl you can know nothing about it.'

'I won't be silent! I just know that you are an interfering, unpleasant – '

'Helena, hush.'

Helena bit her lip but subsided. Margaret was her elder by nine years, and she had always been a little in awe of her beautiful, talented sister. Margaret smiled at her, patted her hand, and turned to her mother-in-law, taking a deep breath.

'What is your reason for such an odd request?'

'It's not a request. I insist. He will be there. Have you never heard of the trick King James attempted?'

Helena suppressed a giggle. 'The warming pan baby?' she exclaimed. 'Do you seriously believe Margaret would seek to substitute a boy if the child is another girl?'

The Dowager glared at her. 'You can keep silence, young lady. We all know your own marriage prospects would be improved if you were the aunt of my son's heir.'

'I already am aunt to his daughters,' Helena said, unable this time to obey Margaret's sign to be silent. 'And I have no need of your sponsorship, or that of your brother, to attract offers!'

She grinned to herself. Though not yet out, her father had already received two offers for her hand, though she would never accept either.

The Dowager had turned back to Margaret, ignoring Helena.

'I have said my doctor will be present.'

She rose to her feet and her sister Jane, the sister's rather feeble husband Sir Robert Selwyn, her brother John the second, and his sons John the third and George, quickly followed in her wake as she swept from the room.

'Like a set of fowl hearing their breakfast coming,' Helena muttered. 'How did you ever tolerate her for so many years?'

'She was never so bad while Patrick was alive. She kept to herself at the Dower House, when she was in Leicestershire, even though she complained it was too small and badly arranged and not at all what she was accustomed to. But she spent a good deal of the year in Bath or Cheltenham, or visiting friends, mostly in Lancashire.'

'No doubt until they became disgusted with her and sent her back home!'

Margaret sighed. 'But I will not have her wretched doctor peering at me while I have this child!'

'Come back to Somerset, back home. Bring the girls and their nanny. Papa will keep him away from you.'

Margaret shook her head. 'I would dearly like to, but it would simply make her more suspicious. Besides, if it's a boy Patrick's heir must be born here at Dormie.'

'Then I will stay, and we'll ask Papa to visit. No doctor sent by the wicked witch will get past him!'

'Where is Martin?'

The Dowager and her sister Jane were with their brother John the second and his younger son George, at their house in Liverpool.

'Ann, I don't know. The last we heard was that letter saying he was still travelling somewhere in America.'

'That was more than two years ago. He could be dead. He needs to be here when that daughter-in-law of mine produces her brat. Whether it's a boy or girl, it's Martin's right to inherit.'

Her brother sighed. He was tired of this argument, for his sister always refused to accept the legal position. 'You know he can't if she has a son.'

'If she does, and if the child is Patrick's. Her damned father is there, and will stop my doctor from being present when she whelps. So I'll never accept any son of hers as my own grandson.'

'I'll write again, insist the people in Halifax make more enquiries.'

'In America as well as Canada.'

'Of course.'

'I don't trust any of them. The Americans dislike all the English after we kept them away from Canada. When did you last write to your people in Halifax?'

'I write at least once a month, by every ship we send there. They haven't heard from him since he left so suddenly.'

'It was the worst thing Father ever did, sending him there. And then dying just weeks afterwards. He would have recalled him soon. You should have done, immediately.'

John shook his head. Why was she so unreasonable? 'He couldn't be left to go on as he did. His gambling debts were enormous. I made Patrick help pay them, for Martin is his cousin and his heir, even though he had to sell land to raise the money. Father gave as much as he could, to the tune of many thousands.'

'I never believed he owed so much. He must have been cheated. And all young men gamble.'

John the second sighed. 'Neither I nor my sons have ever gambled apart from a few guineas at parties. I was against Father helping Patrick to pay the debts but he insisted. Patrick could have sold more land, instead of leaving it to Margaret and her brats.'

'We can be thankful Martin had no access to the firm's money in Halifax,' George said.

The Dowager glared at him. 'You never liked him, but that suggestion is scandalous!'

'No, Aunt Ann.' George took a deep breath. He didn't often dare to challenge his aunt, but the need to pay Martin's debts had lowered his own expectations from the firm. 'He was a jumped-up swindler. I was surprised no more claims were made, when he cheated so many people.'

The Dowager rose to her feet. 'Jane, come along. I will not sit here and listen to my own nephew peddle such lies about my son. I'll write to Halifax myself.'

'I never thought it would be like this,' the Earl of Ennis complained.

'Sit down, Papa,' Helena said. 'Your pacing about won't hasten things.'

'It's been hours! And all that wretched midwife will say is that all is going well. How can it be, when I can hear poor Margaret groaning?'

'Margaret told me it was hard work, having a baby, but worth it in the end.'

He swung round to her. 'You shouldn't be here, listening. Why, it could deter you from marriage, and I've had two offers for you already this Season. Even though we have not been to London, and you are only seventeen.'

Helena frowned. He could not let her forget. Did he wish to be rid of her, marry her off, or avoid the expense of a London Season?

'Yes, I know, and I don't want either of them!'

'You are too choosy! I could force you to accept.'

'Like you forced Margaret, when she barely knew Patrick, and look at the family you gave her!'

He shrugged, and came to sit down beside her. 'In my day parents always chose husbands for their daughters. It wasn't a bad match, apart from his mother!'

Helena silently vowed she would choose her own husband, if she ever got married, but prudently kept these thoughts to herself.

They were waiting in the small room leading from Margaret's bedroom at Dormie, and had been there for several hours. The Earl would take only the briefest of breaks, saying he needed to be there in order to frustrate any attempt by the Dowager or her doctor to invade the room. Fortunately neither were at Dormie, the birth not having been expected for another two or three weeks. Helena wondered if Margaret had been deliberately misleading. If so, it had been a clever ploy.

'She will make trouble if the child's a boy. She'll claim fraud, and there are some who will believe her. I fear Martin's behaviour influenced many against Patrick, even though they were only cousins, and although the Dowager is heartily disliked there are some who are only too happy to believe every lying word.'

'Yes, Papa,' Helena said with a sigh. He had been complaining for hours. 'I wonder what she will call the babe?' she asked, trying to divert his mind.

'Humph! At least if it's a girl she won't have to call it by one of his family names.'

Helena laughed. 'Well, Margaret overcame that. Ann became Annabelle to the family, Jane is Jenny, and Rose, after John the second's wife, is Rosanna. This time she can make her own choice.'

'And I suppose if it's a boy it will be Patrick.'

'Yes.'

'Where is that wretch Martin? Has any more been heard of him?'

'From what Margaret has said, John the second is writing to their people in Canada all the time, but no one there knows where he is. He simply walked out several years ago.'

'But if this baby is a girl, he'll inherit. It's not satisfactory. It must be frustrating for Etienne. For if Martin is dead but no one knows, he cannot take the title.'

'Would Etienne be the next heir?'

With his aristocratic looks he would be a far better earl than Patrick's brother, she thought. Patrick was the only man in that family who had been even moderately handsome. Both Johns, father and son, and George were short and dumpy, and her one memory of Martin six years ago was of a similarly unprepossessing figure. She brought her attention back to what her father was saying.

'He's Patrick's cousin. His father Adam was Patrick's uncle, they lived just a few miles away at Normansland, and he cut himself off from the family when he married that French woman. I believe the Dowager had something to do with it, but I understand there was an almighty quarrel. She hated the French. And she'll do all in her power to prevent Etienne taking the title, even if her precious Martin is dead.'

'She won't believe it unless she sees his body. Listen!'

From the bedroom there came the weak cry of a newborn child. The Earl started to his feet, and would have burst into the bedroom had Helena not grasped his arm and prevented it.

'Wait, Papa! We'll know soon enough.'

'There's a letter from Thomas Sinclair in Halifax, at last,' John the second said.

'So do they know where Martin is?' George asked.

He and his father were alike, both short and stout, with big noses and weak chins, and John was fast losing his greying hair. Both dressed in the height of fashion, though tight pantaloons were far from flattering on their short fat legs.

John the second shook his head. 'No. All they know is that he went south, some time