“I shall make you a promise,” Jared said.
“If you find a lady I can love as much as my father loved my mother, I shall marry her—and if she has a fortune so much the better….”
“You will look for a wealthy bride?”
“You will look for one for me,” Jared said, and his expression was once again inscrutable. “Present the right lady and I will marry her.”
“Oh…” Hester looked at him. He seemed to be serious for once. She did not know why she felt reluctant to agree, but he was clearly waiting for her answer. “I shall try….”
“Good,” Jared said, settling back and closing his eyes.
Hester frowned. How annoying he was! They were just beginning to get to know one another and now he was refusing to talk to her. And after he had thrown her into confusion by kissing her in such a way that it made her pulse race. He really was too bad! She bit her bottom lip, feeling at odds with herself. She should be pleased that he had almost given his word to stay and marry an heiress if she could find the right one, but somehow she had an awful sinking sensation inside.
The Unknown Heir
Harlequin ®Historical
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This is a special year for authors, readers and lovers of romance. Harlequin is sixty years old, and this is certainly a cause for celebration. No other publisher has consistently given us the high-quality romance fiction we have come to expect and love from Harlequin.
As an author, I am thrilled to write for a large international company that retains its family atmosphere. Regency stories continue to flourish, and in this anniversary year I am proud to be contributing The Unknown Heir. I hope you will continue to enjoy my books throughout this year and the years to come.
I really appreciate my readers and love to hear what you think of my books. You can find out more about me at my Web site, www.lindasole.co.uk.
The Unknown Heir
Anne Herries
ANNE HERRIES
Award-winning author Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire, England. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books—although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment and to give pleasure to her readers. She invites readers to contact her on her Web site: www.lindasole.co.uk.
Available from Harlequin ®Historical and ANNE HERRIES
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Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Hester Sheldon placed the vase of perfect chrysanthemums on a table in front of the parlour window, gazing out at the sodden grass and dripping trees that fronted the beautiful old house. Shelbourne had been built in the reign of Queen Anne and had all the grace and beauty of its period, though it was looking faded and had suffered some fire damage recently. Hester loved her home, but of late a dark cloud seemed to hang over them, for the family had been deeply affected by the death of her stepfather some months previously. The tragedy had quite possibly led to the Duke of Shelbourne’s illness, and it was these things that made the house she adored seem so empty at times.
‘Miss Hester?’
She turned as the housekeeper came into the room, prepared to deal with whatever might be asked of her since the burden of the estate had fallen on her shoulders these past weeks. Lady Sheldon had been delicate since the death of her husband, and the duke was unable to do more than advise her from his bedchamber.
‘Yes, Mrs Mills? Is there something wrong?’
‘His Grace has asked that you go up to him as soon as you have a minute, miss.’
‘Yes, of course. I shall go now,’ Hester said. ‘And my compliments to Cook, Mrs Mills. The beef was excellent last night. Grandfather particularly remarked on it.’
‘I am sure she will be pleased to hear that, miss.’
Mrs Mills stood back for Hester to leave the room, shaking her head as she went into the hall and up the stairs. It was hardly fair the way they all expected Miss Sheldon to do everything these days. Not that she was a girl, as she had passed her twenty-sixth birthday, and it was unlikely that she would marry, which was, in Mrs Mills’s opinion, a proper shame.
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