The English Heiress Read Free Page B

wrong.”
    Sir Joseph raised a brow at his son. “Trying to prove that you are not impatient to see the last of me?” he teased.
    “Not at all,” Roger returned briskly. “In fact, I’m bent on shortening your days to lengthen my own. Since the school holidays will last several weeks longer, I’m trying to preserve my own health and sanity at the expense of yours by leaving my son on your hands while I escape.”
    “I should have known better than try to draw you,” Sir Joseph sighed “I never had the last word with your mother, and I haven’t had the last word with you since you were three—that was when you started to talk. You were late at it, but, by God once started…” He laughed. “Thank you, my boy. I shall be most grateful if you will save me this journey. I hope to heaven you have some answer, but if you don’t, at least you will have saved me the trip to London and back before I need to go to France.”
    “Father!” Roger exclaimed. “You can’t mean that! Just because Joseph de Conyers named you executor… That will must have been written years and years ago Joseph must have meant to change it.”
    “And name a younger man?” Sir Joseph said. “Yes, I suppose he did, but the fact is that he hadn’t gotten around to it, and it is my responsibility. Aside from that, Roger, I wouldn’t like to see Stour’s lands fall into decay while the inheritance is fought out in court. In addition to the disruption caused by not knowing Henry’s fate—which means that the estate will be administered by some fool of a court appointee and be run right into the ground—this is Stour’s son. William would have bailed any of you out of trouble; he hiked Arthur out of a real hole with a woman once when I was in Jamaica. No, if Stour’s son is in trouble, especially trouble he hasn’t made for himself, I couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing.”
    Roger felt like shaking his father and telling him not to be an idiot. A man in his seventh decade was not the person to thrust into a nation that—as far as Roger could tell—had gone quite mad and erupted periodically, for no rational reason, into riots. He reminded himself that his father did not know how bad the situation was, but he had no intention of describing it in greater detail than he already had. Roger knew his father. Sir Joseph had determined that Henry de Conyers and his family would be found, dead or alive, and a recitation of the difficulties would not change his mind.
    In fact, Roger thanked God sincerely that he had not said more about the situation in France. If his father understood the real difficulties, he would never have accepted Roger’s platitude about getting information through one of the legal firms with which he was associated. Probably Sir Joseph would have started packing already, realizing that the only way to be sure de Conyers was found was to go himself or send someone really trustworthy. Since Sir Joseph was not the man to push dangerous or disagreeable duties onto other people, and was not particularly concerned with prolonging his life—which he knew to have been already unusually long—he would have determined to go himself. Roger shuddered at the thought of trying to dissuade his father, or equally unpleasant, trying to explain to Lady Margaret why he had given his father information that had precipitated him into such an action.
    Roger’s mind was busy as he pointed out to his father that nothing could be done until he spoke to Compton, and he had made his decision before he finished the sentence. “I have some business in town anyway,” Roger continued. “It isn’t pressing, but I might as well take care of it now. If you don’t mind, sir, I think I’ll leave today and get matters under way.”
    Sir Joseph’s penetrating stare rested on his son for a long moment. He understood rather more than Roger expected, although not the whole. It was at once obvious to Sir Joseph that Roger intended to go to France