“Is that likely?”
“It is possible. I am confident none will be successful, however. No promises were made to the family members. None qualify as true dependents.” He leaned forward. “I wrote the will, you see. I did so in a way to make such a claim most unlikely.”
“Must I wait to see if anyone wants to challenge it?”
He shook his head. “As his executor, my role is to do as the duke requested and laid out in his will. Now, you received ten thousand, plus a partnership. The ten thousand was put into a trust almost a year prior to his death and cannot be taken. The partnership, however—it would be wise to let that lie for a while, and set aside any dividends or income it may pay. Six months at most.” He smiled. “That is not long to wait before you indulge yourself. The trust has already paid once, so a few hundred or so already is at your disposal, or will be in a few weeks once arrangements are made with the bank.”
“I think I can make do with that for now.”
He chuckled. “Can you indeed? I expect most could.”
He sent clerks to the scribners to pen documents for her to sign. After the preliminaries, Sanders advised Minerva on her new situation.
“I will contact you once the trust has been secured to your access. As for the partnership, the other partners will press to meet with you. Put them off for now. They may offer to purchase your share and you can use the time to decide if you prefer that. A partnership goes both ways when it comes to money. If it is profitable, it pays out. If the business requires funds, you pay in.”
“I may well agree to sell. Do you know what a fair price would be?”
He pulled forward a portfolio, opened it, and flipped through some pages. “I am having valuations done of all his businesses, but at the last valuation of that one, your share was just over thirty thousand. It showed an income per annum of approximately fifteen hundred. It was one of the duke’s smaller investments, but it was a good one.”
She stopped breathing. Radnor had said the business was worth far more than the direct legacy, but such a sum never entered her mind. Even the income astonished her.
Sanders set aside the portfolio. “Miss Hepplewhite, I would be remiss if I did not mention that with your new good fortune, there will be those who seek your company for less than admirable reasons. There will be friendships offered only because you can benefit the new friend. As an unmarried woman you will be the prey of fortune hunters too.”
“You are saying that men will pursue me because of my money.”
“I am afraid so. Should you ever consider marriage, I urge you to consult a solicitor who can explain the implications for you and your fortune, and perhaps advise you on the character of your intended.”
“Thank you for your advice. I am quite sure that I will not be welcoming such attentions. However, if I ever do, I promise that an inquiry on the man will be done.”
She left the chambers in a daze. As long as no one succeeded in challenging this will’s provisions, she was now a wealthy woman. Even if she only received the income from the trust, she would never again have to worry about money. Rich, as Jeremy had said. Rich! RICH! She wanted to shout it to passersby.
The only thing dampening her giddiness was her awareness that Beth was right. A door long closed and bolted was now open again.
* * *
Chase returned to his apartment on Bury Street in the afternoon. He had spent several hours fencing with an old army friend who was now a member of the Horse Guards. The exercise had cleared his head, which he had counted on. He needed to do some clear thinking before he went out again this evening.
His manservant, Brigsby, had hot water waiting, and held large towels after Chase washed. Then he dressed for the second time this day. Finally cleansed and refreshed, he sat at a large writing table set in his bedchamber. Brigsby had already supplied it with a thick stack of good paper and a fresh ink and pen.
Chase opened a new portfolio and wrote Hollinburgh’s Death on it. He always kept detailed notes on his inquiries. He had learned to do this in the army where such notes helped in writing the final report on any case being investigated. He also relied on written words to keep his thinking organized.
He took a sheet of paper and headed it Facts. He took another and wrote the heading Paths to Pursue. On a third he wrote Inconsistencies. On the next Theories. Finally, he pulled a clean page forward and penned Suspects. Not all inquiries required these pages. Some needed other, different ones. Part of starting an inquiry was considering the best way to organize the campaign, however.
Eventually most of the pages would be filled with lists of things to do and evidence amassed. With one review he could see if he had forgotten something. There had been inquiries where reading through his notes and pages had presented answers he had not yet seen.
He opened a letter and placed it in the portfolio. It had come from Sanders and included the list of the last duke’s businesses and their partners. He found another list in a drawer of the bequests in the will and added that.
He spent a few minutes, jotting thoughts on the page regarding Paths to Pursue, and making a short list there of the most immediate actions needed. Finally, he flipped to the Suspects page.
He could fill this already if he listed every person with any motive at all. Instead, as was his habit, he would reserve it for those whom he believed might truly be strong possibilities.
He dipped his pen. He hesitated. Then he wrote. Minerva Hepplewhite.
Chapter Four
Chase looked out the library window and watched the carriages line up. Everyone stepping down wore their finest clothes. Even the children had been turned out suitably for a visit to a duke’s home. Servants lowered trunks from the back and tops of the coaches, all full of yet more garments with which to bedazzle one another.
“Tell me this won’t be hell.” Nicholas stepped in beside him and gazed out. “Good heavens, that is Dolores. I haven’t seen her in a year.”
Dolores, a middle-aged, raven-haired woman of impressive height, was directing the servants working at her coach. Her voice could not be heard, but her mouth kept moving and her finger kept pointing and the servants kept grimacing.
“She would never let Agnes have all the fun,” Chase said. The two women were sisters, the only female siblings among the men who populated their generation. Chase assumed that both had learned to be forceful in order to be seen or heard among six brothers.
“There is Kevin,” Nicholas said. “I thought he was abroad.”
“Not any longer, it appears.”
Kevin strode up the drive, looking too much like a brooding poet with his refined features, deep-set eyes, and shock of dark hair. He acknowledged none of the cousins or aunts while he passed their carriages, nor did they call out to him. Chase assumed he had left his own carriage back in line and chose to walk rather than wait.
“There will be hell to pay with him,” Nicholas muttered.
Kevin had not been in the country when Uncle Frederick died. He had not been present when the will was read. His resentment would be fresh. Worse, he had more cause than most to complain.
“The will was surprising in many ways,” Nicholas said. “Where Kevin was concerned, however, it bordered on cruel.”
Chase could not disagree. Much as he loved his uncle, there had indeed been a few consequences of that testament that appeared vindictive without cause.