Forbidden Angel by Sandra Lea Rice

Financial difficulties, I heard later.”
    Adrian reached for a cigarillo and lit it. “He’d always shown extreme antipathy toward me, generated, I would assume, from his jealousy. I was the son of an Earl, a viscount in my own right and my family held an old and respected title that went back nine generations. We had accumulated a substantial fortune, with lands and well-cared-for estates. I was also building quite a nice personal fortune through investments. My father was highly respected in Parliament and I was set to follow in his footsteps.”
    Adrian drew on the cigar, letting the smoke out slowly. “Women vied for my company and I had entrée to all the best gatherings. Not so with Charles. Even then, he was a womanizer and his treatment of them well known. No father who cared anything for his daughter would let him near her.”
    Adrian snuffed out the cigarillo. “I went after Charles in front of everyone and threatened to kill him for what he’d done. He claimed my loss of control was another example of my murderous temper.”
    “Was this why you left England?”
    “Partly. Under normal circumstances, they would not arrest a lord of the realm without absolute proof. Understandably, Stonebrook was very distraught at Pricilla’s death, and wanted justice. I wasn’t even allowed to attend her funeral. Out of concern, my father booked passage for me to America.”
    “But if they didn’t formally charge you with her death, why have you stayed away?”
    “I’d never set a foot wrong, never once done anything to bring disgrace to our family name. I knew from the beginning what my responsibilities were. I studied hard and learned everything I could, from politics to managing the estate. I knew all our tenants by name. And then . . .” Adrian shrugged helplessly. “It sounds lame, but when Pricilla died, so many people that should have known better, stared at me as if I was some monster.”
    “You were young, Adrian, and grieving. Perhaps that wasn’t what they felt at all,” Joel suggested. “Did you ever resent having your life so dictated?”
    “Resent?” Adrian thought for a moment. “No. I felt pride in myself, my family. But I found a freedom in America I never imagined existed.”
    “Your father died. What of your title?”
    “The title passed to me, as did my inheritance. My uncle agreed to manage things in my absence.” His mind drifted to England. “All of our tenants have been there for generations and are trustworthy. Spencer House in London is shut up, with just a caretaker in residence. The same is true at Windsford Hall.”
    Adrian rolled the coffee cup in his hands, then shoved it away. “Jeffrey’s a good man and has managed my interests quite well, but he grows older and I’m asking a lot of him. Truth to tell, I’ve shirked my responsibility in England for the thrill of building something entirely new, something of my own and not what was handed down to me. In England, I have the responsibility of maintaining, and hopefully increasing, what others of my family before me have built. Here, it is what a man can envision and build with his own hands.” He glanced at Joel. “I’m not unaware that many would love to be in my position.”
    “The title didn’t go to your uncle in your absence?”
    “No. It doesn’t work that way. He is my uncle through my mother’s side. Only the male line inherits. My father and grandfather before him had no brothers. Neither do I. If I die without producing a male heir, the title will be lost and the entailed property will revert to the crown.”
    “So, what will you do?” Joel lit a cigarillo, blowing the smoke into the air.
    “It’s time I return to England and, if possible, prove Malcolm’s duplicity.”
    “You could also marry Angeline and produce an heir,” Joel pointed out calmly. “I don’t suppose you would find that a hardship, and marriage would solve both your problems.”
    Adrian absently tapped a finger on the table.