The Counterfeit Gentleman Read Free Page A

proper thing to say when someone saves your life. All I can say is thank you.”
    “You needn’t thank me,” he said curtly, annoyed with where his thoughts had led him—and angry with himself for not being able to ignore the tension between them. “But I would appreciate some explanation of what is going forward. Since it is obvious that your recent companions were not interested in catching fish this morning, could you perhaps tell me how you came to be with them in that boat?”
    “It is a long story, and it is hard to know where to begin.” She paused, then continued, “My father was Baron Pepperell. I do not remember much about him because he died when I was three years old. A distant cousin inherited both the title and the estate, so my mother and I went to live with her father. She passed away less than a year later, leaving my grandfather to raise me. And he died two years ago in August, leaving me in the care of Aunt Euphemia, Lady Clovyle, that is. She is my father’s sister.”
    Although Miss Pepperell did not say so directly, it was obvious from her voice that she had been much more at tached to her grandfather than to her aunt.
    “Is she the only relative you have still living?”
    “On my father’s side. On my mother’s side, however, I have cousins galore, but only three who are likely to be im plicated in the plot you have just spoiled. Or I should say, any one of the three had a motive for hiring those two men.”
    “Three cousins, each with a motive,” Digory said, stop ping rowing for a moment so that he could listen for the sound of the buoy marking the reefs by Penistone Head. Reassured by its bass voice that he was still on the proper course, he resumed both his rowing and his questioning.
    “I suppose money is involved somewhere in your story.”
    “A great deal of money,” Miss Pepperell said, her voice bleak. “My grandfather, James Granville, was the younger son of the Earl of Granwood. In his youth grandfather quar reled with his father and older brother and left home. Years later he came back to England with a fortune in his pocket and married my grandmother, who was herself the granddaughter of a duke.
    “They had only one child, my mother, who had but one child, me, which means I am the sole heiress to my grand father’s estate. Unless, of course, I die unmarried before I reach the age of one and twenty, in which case Wilbur, Gervase, and Inigo Harcourt will all inherit equal shares. They are the sons of my grandfather’s only sister, who mar ried the Reverend Percival Harcourt.” She was quiet for a long moment, then she added what was only too obvious. “Apparently one of them has decided that a third part of my grandfather’s estate is worth committing murder for.”
    Digory considered what she had told him. “It would seem to me that the easiest way to circumvent whichever cousin is plotting against you would be to marry. Surely you have had ample suitors?”
    “Indeed,” she said, and there was a touch of bitterness in her voice, “with both beauty and fortune, as well as the proper family connections, I have been quite the belle of the ball. But how can I determine which, if any, of the young men courting me love me, and which ones love only my grandfather’s money?”
    “A common, yet not insurmountable problem with heiresses, I believe.”
    “If it were only that, I would take my chances and hope for the best. But suppose ...”
    She was quiet for a moment, and then he finished the sentence for her. “Suppose one of your cousins is conspir ing with one of your suitors, do you mean?”
    “Oh, I am so glad you said that. After the number of ap parent accidents that have befallen me, I feared I was inventing danger even where there was none. But if you see the precariousness of my position also, then I am not simply being hysterical.”
    “Accidents? Tell me about them.”
    She hesitated. “I feel so foolish mentioning them. Aunt Euphemia—she is my