Page 51 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

“But this means our strategy must now change as well.”

“How?”

“For one thing, it may be better if you marry now rather than waiting. It will afford you more protection and there will be less talk if you end up increasing again.” The look Jane gave her made Maria wish to slink beneath the covers and never emerge. “As we will be journeying to London tomorrow—please remind me I must tell Kinellan this before the morning, he dislikes it so when I change his plans at the last moment—we can send Kinellan to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license. Then you and Mr. Granger can be married at your convenience.”

“Something tells me that Mr. Granger is going to object to talk of the marriage before his affairs are settled with his brother.” That seemed to be a sticking point with him. She understood it, after a fashion, but could not agree to it. Not after this afternoon’s interlude.

“He may not have a choice if his brother lingers much longer. Your safety and reputation are more important than his pride, or independence, or whatever it is that is making him so obstinate.”

“He is a stubborn man, to be sure.”

“Then he will need to learn to give in more graciously and more often.”

Laughing as the door opened and the bathtub was carried in, Maria laid her hand on Jane’s. “Thank you, Cousin, for all your help and advice guiding me through widowhood twice now. You must be an expert.”

Shaking her head, Jane rose and headed for the door. “Enjoy your bath. Relax as much as you can, because after tomorrow, you may have precious little to rejoice about.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Mr. Hezekiah Clarke might not have been a nervous man by nature; however, today he seemed to be suffering from some disorder that gave him the perpetual fidgets. Maria, Jane, and Lord Kinellan sat in Mr. Clarke’s private office, an intimidating audience for a normal solicitor to be sure, but for a man whose clientele included dukes, archbishops, and members of the royal family, they should have been nothing out of the ordinary. But today, it seemed, Mr. Clarke was nervous.

“Can you tell me, Lady Kersey, why you have finally decided to inquire about your legacy?” The little man with the round glasses glared at her, though he gripped his pen so tightly the goose quill creaked under the strain. He sat behind a large, spindly legged desk, piles of papers and files on either side of him.

“Because until day before yesterday I had no idea my late husband had made a will leaving me anything.” They had all agreed—after Maria insisted—that Maria would speak to Mr. Clarke herself. Only if the interview seemed to be getting out of hand was Lord Kinellan supposed to step in.

“That simply cannot be true, my lady.” Mr. Clarke shook his head vehemently. “I have sent you two letters at least since November, informing you of the will and asking you to come to London at your earliest convenience to discuss your plans for managing the properties.”

“What properties, Mr. Clarke?” Torn between excitement and exasperation, Maria shot a look at Jane. Did she really have an inheritance? Gooseflesh rose all along her arms. “I tell you again that I have received nothing from you since your letter informing me that Lord Kersey had been located and when he would be taking possession of Kersey Hall. That was in October. There was no mention of a will.”

“Because the will had not come to light at that time.” Pursing his lips, Mr. Clarke shook his head. “It wasn’t discovered until about the middle of November, at which time I traveled to Kersey Hall to discuss its ramifications with you and Lord Kersey.”

“Which you certainly did not do, Mr. Clarke. I have never met with you until this morning. Do you deny that?” Wide-eyed, she again shot a glance at Jane. Had someone posed as her at that meeting?

“No, of course not, Lady Kersey. I was informed by Lord Kersey of your continued grief and seclusion at the time. But he assured me he would inform you of the will and advise you that I would be contacting you by mail regarding its contents.” As if the idea was just dawning, Mr. Clarke leaned forward, the multitude of little lines in his face thrown into sharp relief. “Did Lord Kersey neglect to inform you of my visit?”

“Of course he did, Mr. Clarke.” The infuriated voice of Lord Kinellan boomed in the small space. “Why on earth would he?”

“What do you mean, my lord? Lord Kersey gave me to understand—”

“That he would tell the woman who stood to inherit property he himself believed to be his?” The disgust in Kinellan’s face transformed him from a handsome man to a demonic one. “Why would he tell her if he stood to lose a substantial amount by doing so?”

“But his lordship didn’t know the contents of the will.” Mr. Clarke’s face paled as his alarm rose.

Kinellan waved that away. “Probably didn’t matter. Either he would assume the worst, or he is petty enough to deny Lady Kersey even the meanest of bequests.” The marquess glared at the solicitor until Mr. Clarke shrank back in his chair. “You should have insisted on seeing the dowager countess, if only briefly. No one is ever too bereaved to give their solicitor five minutes of their time.”

“But I wrote to her ladyship.”

“Obviously intercepted by Kersey.” Jane’s vehemence seemed no less than Kinellan’s. “And if you detailed her inheritance in those letters, then Kersey knew exactly what he stood to lose.”

“Oh, no, my lady.” The quickness of the denial indicated the measure of Mr. Clarke’s guilt. “I never quoted any specifics from the will in those letters. They merely urged a meeting to discuss the will.”

Kinellan shrugged. “That probably alarmed Kersey enough for him to treat the matter as urgent and take action.”

“What action could he take?” Maria’s head was in a whirl. “Mr. Granger said that just after Lord Kersey’s meeting with Mr. Clarke, I was invited to move back to the Hall. Did that have something to do with it?”

Jane and Kinellan exchanged a candid look before Jane spoke. “Quite possibly, my dear. Your moving back to the Hall would have put you in closer proximity to Lord Wetherby.”

“Lord Wetherby?” The afternoon was becoming more and more confusing. Jane must be wrong about this part of it. “What does he have to do with it?”