Edward gave a sharp nod. “So I’ve been informed. My great-grandfather refused a life in the church when offered because, he said, he had no vocation. Our relative didn’t see the problem.
Since my great-grandfather was one of seven children, four of them boys, he had no expectations of the title and made the most of his life. His branch of the family, mine, has since prospered. Believe me sir, I have no need of a title or entailed lands. I have enough wealth of my own.”
That remained to be seen. If he were posing as heir to a great estate, John would say that kind of thing. But the man had an air of prosperity, understated confidence that spoke of being used to command. “Are you in business?”
“Yes, sir, I am. My great-grandfather reverted to the simpler form of the family name, and set up making cloth for the foreign markets. From that we invested in shipping. We’re based in the north, from Newcastle-on-Tyne.”
Smith. That was the hell of it, such a common name. He knew of a business imaginatively named Smith and Sons who dealt in cloth and shipping. Definitely no relation of his. “You have brothers?”
“I do. Two. My brother has three sons.” Smith gave a shame-faced grin. “The title isn’t short of heirs.”
“If your claim is proved.”
John watched carefully but Edward Smith didn’t flinch. He nodded briskly. “Naturally. I can provide the necessary proofs. But may I speak frankly?”
“Of course.” John got to his feet. “But I’m forgetting my manners. May I offer you refreshment?”
Smith shook his head. “I don’t need anything, thank you.”
John sat down, leaned back. “You were saying, about being frank.” The offer of refreshment had demonstrated showing acceptance. That was the point in the conversation where he either offered hospitality or showed Smith his back.
He believed this man. His instincts had to be razor sharp. While they were not his only method of assessment, he had enough faith in his ability to assess a character to believe in this man’s honesty.
Smith nodded, and the corner of his mouth quirked in a smile.
Another gesture John recognised in himself. “I believe frankness is the best policy on most occasions. How well do you know your man of business?”
“It depends which one,” John said. “My personal agent and business partner is a person I would trust with my life.” Although not his wife. He wouldn’t trust any other with her. “However the man who deals with the affairs of the earldom, Roker, I hardly know.”
Edward raised a brow. “The article said you lived in Canada?”
“I did. When I joined the army I sold everything except one house and invested my money. I did well. In Canada I started in fur and developed the enterprise.”
Smith didn’t appear surprised. “I did some research. Smith and Pickering is one of the biggest trading empires in Canada these days. I asked a few contacts. Does Roker have the handling of any of it?”
“He does not. I wish to keep my business separate from the earldom for the time being. There is enough to assimilate without attempting that.” He could see no reason not to vouchsafe that piece of information, although he had decided to play his cards close to his chest for now. Only the other day he was wondering if a hidden heir could be responsible for the attacks on Faith and himself. Now, out of the blue, an heir appeared. Possibly fraudulent, possibly indigent. He want excellent proofs before he believed anything Smith said.
“I have no right to advise you, but I would say, take care with that man.” Smith shifted his attention, glanced out of the window that afforded a view of the garden beyond. In the distance, a gardener was doing something to a trellis of greenery. John guessed Smith was finding his confession difficult.
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s hardly my place.” Smith’s attention returned to within the room, to the portrait over the fireplace, a conversation piece from about fifty years ago. It showed the family drinking tea, holding their handle-less cups with great delicacy. John thought he discerned a resemblance. The shape of the head maybe, or the eye colour.
Smith looked straight at John again. “I came to London partly to see you. Understand, sir, I have no interest in the earldom, except from duty. I have my home, my family, and a prosperous business.”
He hesitated. “Extremely prosperous. I trade for the most part, and I own an share in several other enterprises. My brothers would be appalled if I suggested a move to London. We have no desire to change our lives. The first I knew the earldom was short an heir was when I read it in the paper.”
He broke off and his mouth flattened. “When I contacted Roker, he told me he’d searched the records thoroughly, but I cannot believe he could have done that. We have never hidden ourselves. It wouldn’t have taken too much research to uncover us.
But nobody did. Nobody contacted us.”
John distinctly remembered Roker telling him he’d hunted high and low for an heir. That alone convinced him Smith was telling the truth, or at least some of it. “You say you have proof?”
“Letters, journals, family papers and legal documents like marriage certificates. Yes, sir, in abundance. I have the necessary papers lodged with my man in the City. If you wish for confirmation, there are public records like parish registers, commercial agreements and so on. I will furnish you with any you require.” He paused. “Not with Roker, though. I would refuse to allow him to do more than view the documents since he appears to have mislaid the others.”
Roker had obscured the existence of an heir. John’s suspicions hardened. “I’d like to see the evidence, and to invite Pilkington and his clerk to view them also.”
“By all means. Any time you wish.”
The ready agreement encouraged John to believe Smith. His thoughts drifted to the woman upstairs and what this news would mean to her. With that burden off her mind, she’d rest easier about her condition. The earldom would not depend upon her producing an heir and she could finally forget about leaving him so he could sire a son on a younger woman. He didn’t want a younger woman.
He wanted Faith.
That last made up his mind for him. “Today wouldn’t be too soon. As long as I may call upon Pilkington to verify what I see.” He trusted himself to assess the documents, but they would need formal verification before he could accept Smith as heir. Looking at him, John saw shadows of himself and of his late cousins. The colour of the eyes and their shape, certain physical quirks reminded him forcibly of himself and added up to a truth he had no desire to deny. Which was why he’d ask Pilkington to research the man and examine the documents he owned. He wanted it too much to be impartial.
Walking to the offices of Smith’s man in an office close to Lincoln’s Inn Fields, John had time to think, to analyse his thoughts. He found Smith an agreeable companion in these circumstances, not intruding in unnecessary conversation when he sensed his companion did not require it. The walk was substantial, but nothing to two men in rude health, one of whom had served as a soldier, used to long marches.
Although they didn’t feel the need to engage in polite conversation, they tentatively discovered a little about each other.
He liked Smith’s pragmatism and sense of duty, found him a man who had felt the need to establish his credentials because of his desire to do the right thing.
After viewing the papers, letters, trivial exchanges of mundanities in handwriting, as well as the formal documents which, to his eyes, seemed perfectly genuine, he was convinced.
Edward Smith was his heir, and had two nephews who could continue the title. Although he added the caveats that the documents must be verified formally, he confessed his acceptance.