Miss Morton and the Missing Heir

Book 4: Miss Morton Mystery

by Catherine Lloyd

Genres: Cozy Mystery; Historical Mysteries; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

Society in England is most unforgiving of a reversal of fortune, as Miss Caroline Morton, left penniless after her father’s suspicious death, knows all too well. Once a lady, now a lady’s companion, she is still enmeshed in the settling of the earl's estate—and soon murder as well—in this "charming cross between a Regency romance and a well-constructed detective story” (Kirkus Reviews) for of Victoria Thompson, C.S. Harris, and Deanna Raybourn.

Distraught over her younger sister Susan’s decision to leave for America and weary of shepherding her employer Mrs. Frogerton’s daughter in her relentless pursuit of marrying a peer, Caroline is dealt another blow when her family solicitors indicate they may have found the lost heir to the Morton earldom.

Possible heir Thomas, his mother Mrs. Scutton, and her widowed daughter Mary all descend on Mrs. Frogerton’s home on Half Moon Street. The air inside the house is soon thick with family tension and the near palpable presence of avarice. But things go from tense to tragic following the appearance of Mary’s dead husband—very much alive and recently released from debtors’ prison. Unseen by Caroline and Mrs. Frogerton, a fight breaks out upstairs, leaving Mary fatally stabbed and her mother wounded.

The manhunt is on for Mary’s husband, led by Inspector Ross. But both Caroline and Mrs. Frogerton begin to suspect that all is not as it seems The Scuttons have brought more than trouble into the home—they may be harboring secrets that could put Caroline and Mrs. Frogerton’s very lives at risk . . .

Release date: September 30, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 272

Sample

London 1840

Mrs. Frogerton waved her lace handkerchief at the departing carriage until it turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Her smile faltered as she lowered her hand.

“I’ve never been so pleased to see someone leave before in my life.”

“That’s quite understandable, ma’am.” Miss Caroline Morton shut the door of the rented house in Half Moon Street and gestured for her employer to proceed her up the stairs. “The last few weeks have been exceptionally busy, what with the wedding and everything surrounding it.”

Mrs. Frogerton sighed. “Two years, lass, two years of my life stuck in London waiting for Dotty to make up her mind and marry her viscount.”

“I suspect she enjoyed being part of the social whirl, ma’am,” Caroline suggested. “And I applaud her for waiting to make certain that her feelings for the viscount were strong enough to translate into a good marriage.”

“Her feelings had nothing to do with it,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “It took me that long to negotiate the marriage contract. They might be peers of the realm, Caroline, but the dowager countess and her lawyers haggled like fishwives over every penny.”

Mrs. Frogerton sat in her favorite chair and reached down to pet her dogs. She wore a morning gown in bronze silk that complemented her dark eyes and chestnut hair. She’d had her children at a relatively young age and still retained her youthful complexion and intense curiosity about life.

To be fair, at this particular moment, she did look rather worn down. Caroline hoped that with Dorothy off on her extended honeymoon, her employer would have plenty of time to recuperate before she decided to return home to run her many businesses. Whether Caroline accompanied her was still not settled.

“I’ll ring for some tea, ma’am,” Caroline said.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Frogerton looked over at her. “And thank you for your support with Dotty. I don’t think I would’ve managed without you.”

“You would have managed perfectly,” Caroline countered. “You are very well equipped to do so.”

Mrs. Frogerton waved the compliment aside. “In business, yes, but dealing with the social niceties of peers and the snobs of society is not my strength, though it is yours.”

Caroline smiled. She’d grown up the daughter of an earl, and the subtle nuances of society had been drummed into her from the day she was born. If her father hadn’t disgraced his family name and left her and her sister, Susan, destitute and dependent on the charity of others, she would’ve been married herself by now, presiding over a large household and probably a titled husband.

Instead, she had to earn her living and help others achieve what should have been her birthright while the ton pretended she didn’t exist. At first, Dorothy, the well-dowered daughter of an industrialist, hadn’t been willing to listen to Caroline’s advice. She’d learned to consider Caroline an ally only when she realized how invaluable her knowledge was in navigating the intricacies of the ton.

And now Dorothy was a viscountess, and Caroline still earned her living while hoping the small inheritance from her aunt would mature enough to offer her security in her old age. …

“Did it make you feel regretful?” Mrs. Frogerton asked.

Guiltily, Caroline wondered if Mrs. Frogerton had been reading her thoughts. “I’m not quite sure what you are referring to, ma’am.” The butler set the tea tray in front of her.

“The wedding. Seeing all those fancy folk in the pews watching my Dotty get married to a viscount.”

“Am I regretful I’m no longer a part of society? Or that I haven’t married?” Caroline shook her head. “Not particularly.”

Mrs. Frogerton winked at her. “Easy for you to say, lass, when you know Inspector Ross and Dr. Harris would marry you in a second.”

“Dr. Harris does not have the means to take on a wife.” Caroline poured the tea and took Mrs. Frogerton a cup. “And we are just friends.”

“And Inspector Ross?” Mrs. Frogerton sighed. “Although between his work and his brother’s bad behavior, he’s hardly had a moment to spare to go courting.”

Caroline had seen Inspector Ross at Dorothy’s elaborate wedding when he’d come to represent his father, but they’d barely had a moment to exchange a word. His older brother’s wild excesses were putting an immense strain on his aristocratic family. All the inspector’s free time was taken up by the matter. Having watched her own father struggle with his demons, Caroline had nothing but sympathy for the inspector, especially knowing how hard he had fought to stay out of family politics.

“How is his brother doing?” Mrs. Frogerton asked.

“Richard is still alive.” Caroline grimaced as she sat down. “But he seems determined to try every means possible to end his earthly existence. Recently, Inspector Ross had to physically restrain him from drinking an entire bottle of brandy at breakfast.”

“Many gentlemen drink to excess.”

“Not as much as Richard.”

“If he does succeed in doing a mischief to himself, Inspector Ross will be his father’s heir, yes?”

Caroline shuddered. “I think that’s the last thing he wants, but even if he never takes up the title, it will still be his.”

“I don’t think he’d be able to work at Great Scotland Yard anymore,” Mrs. Frogerton observed, “when he’d have a seat in the House of Lords.”

“It would be only a hereditary title, ma’am. He wouldn’t sit in the Lords until he succeeded his father.”

“These titles are so confusing, Caroline. Why have them when they have no particular value at all?” Mrs. Frogerton shook her head. “It makes little sense to me.”

“I suspect they matter to the standing of the families involved, but I do take your point,” Caroline said. “And in Inspector Ross’s case, having that empty title would be such a waste of his abilities.”

“I’m sure he could use those in politics, my dear. We could do with a few more sane voices in Parliament.”

Mrs. Frogerton was an avid reader of the newspapers and, as a business owner, had strong opinions about how the current government was performing and no hesitation in expressing them to anyone who cared to listen.

The butler came back with the afternoon post on a silver tray and presented it to Mrs. Frogerton. She thanked him and started sorting through the pile. “I’m surprised we’re still being invited to things now that Dotty and her fortune are no longer available.”

“As I’ve always told you, ma’am, you are a valued guest in your own right.”

Mrs. Frogerton snorted and held out a letter. “There’s one for you, my dear.”

“Thank you.” With a jolt of hope, Caroline took the letter and examined it carefully. There was no return address, but she already knew it wasn’t from the one person she most wanted to write to her.

“Have you heard from your sister yet, lass?” Mrs. Frogerton asked gently.

“No.” Caroline stared down at the unopened letter and swallowed hard. “I’ve had nothing since her first letter telling me she had arrived safely in Maryland. If she doesn’t provide me with a forwarding address, I can send letters only via the ship’s captain and hope someone picks them up at the port and delivers them to her.”

Susan’s decision to leave England when she turned eighteen and live with her cousin Mabel in America had devastated Caroline. Despite all her pleading, Susan had never forgiven Caroline for separating her from Mabel in the first place and was determined to depart with her inheritance in hand. In the end, Caroline had given in and allowed her sister to leave, but it had been the hardest decision of her life. The lack of knowing how Susan was fairing was a constant, nagging ache.

She opened her letter and read it carefully, a frown gathering on her brow. “It’s from my family’s solicitor.”

“Good Lord, what’s wrong now?” Mrs. Frogerton asked. “I thought you’d taken all your personal business to my Mr. Lewis.”

“I have, ma’am, but Mr. Potkins still deals with the Morton family estate. He says someone has written to him claiming to be the next Earl of Morton.”

“And what does that have to do with you?” Mrs. Frogerton sniffed. “Your family scarcely deserve your attention.”

“He’s asking for my help.”

“What a nerve! After the bungling of your affairs he and his colleagues made, he hardly deserves your notice, let alone your assistance.”

“The gentleman’s mother made the claim. Mr. Potkins and the College of Arms are investigating its validity. In the meantime, Mr. Potkins would like me, as the only living representative of the Morton family in England, to meet with these people, preferably at Morton House.”

Mrs. Frogerton frowned. “I thought Morton House had been sold off.”

“I originally thought that, too, ma’am, but apparently because of the terms of the entail, the property couldn’t be sold outright. As far as I understand it, Coutts Bank paid off the debts and currently hold the house in trust for the next earl.”

“They probably paid pennies for it,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “And intend to sell it back to the earl at a vastly inflated price.”

“Considering my father owed them thousands when he died, I can’t say I blame them.”

“Perhaps we should pay the house a visit. Has it been let to tenants in the last few years?”

“I’m not sure.” Caroline stared at her employer. “I thought you said this was none of my business.”

Mrs. Frogerton, who had notably brightened, made a dismissive gesture. “The least we can do is take a look, Caroline. It would only be right.”

Pleased to see that her employer had cheered up, Caroline decided that a closer inspection of Morton House might do them both good. Mrs. Frogerton would enjoy the outing, and Caroline could lay some old ghosts to rest.

After stopping in Lincoln’s Inn Fields to obtain a key from the solicitors, Caroline and Mrs. Frogerton set out for Cavendish Square where Morton House was located. The last time Caroline had been there, the bailiffs had arrived to claim the deceased earl’s unentailed possessions. She’d sat on the front steps while the bailiffs carried everything out as she’d tried to explain to her much younger sister why the bad men were taking all her toys.

At one point Susan had cried so much that one of the bailiffs had given her back a doll. Caroline had tried to thank him, but he’d held his fingers to his lips to indicate she should keep quiet, and she’d done as he asked. She’d already sewn her mother’s pearl necklace and a silver bracelet into the hem of her travelling cloak, but she didn’t have the ability to take anything larger.

As they’d waited for Aunt Eleanor to collect them and their pitiful belongings, even the head bailiff felt sorry enough to invite them back into the house to share their midday meal. It had been strange going past the empty rooms, the furniture now stacked high on the two carts outside. None of the neighbors had come to inquire after the girls’ welfare—Caroline’s first indication that her social status had irrevocably changed for the worst. She’d expected her fiancé to appear, but despite her recent letter informing him of their current predicament, Lord Francis Chatham had not come.

“Caroline?” Mrs. Frogerton’s voice intruded on her memories. “We have arrived.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She shook off the past and descended the carriage step, offering her employer her hand to help her alight in her turn. “I have the key.”

They went up the steps, Caroline carefully avoiding staring at where she and Susan had waited on their last day at the house. The knocker had been removed from the door, there were cobwebs everywhere, and the windows were dirty and shuttered. Caroline set the key in the lock. It squeaked in protest and refused to turn. Eventually, Mrs. Frogerton called on her coachman to use his superior strength, and the door opened with great reluctance. Caroline stepped inside and immediately recoiled at the smell of damp and mildew.

“Good Lord!” Mrs. Frogerton, who was made of stronger stuff, went past her. “It looks like the roof must be leaking.” She pointed at the ceiling where a large patch of black mold coated the peeling plaster. “It’s probably come right through the house.”

Caroline wandered down the central corridor. The rooms on the ground floor had been used by the earl’s secretary and for receiving visitors who didn’t merit a trip up the stairs to the drawing room, where the countess and her daughters had received callers. The basement housed the kitchen, scullery, butler’s pantry, and housekeeper’s sitting room. There was a floor dedicated to the earl and countess’s bedroom suites, a nursery floor, and attics above for the live-in staff.

She paused at the bottom of the staircase, her thoughts in turmoil. It was hard to believe that when her mother was alive, this house had been a warm and loving home. Now it was as ruined and desolate as the Morton family itself.

“I don’t think this place is fit for ghosts to inhabit, let alone guests.” Mrs. Frogerton joined Caroline, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “If this gentleman is the new Earl of Morton, seeing his inheritance in this state might encourage him to run away again.”

“I agree.” Caroline drew an unsteady breath. “It used to be quite elegant, ma’am. My mother had a way of … making a place a home despite its grandeur.”

Her employer squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry, lass. This can’t be pleasant for you. Let’s go back to Half Moon Street. I’ll compose a letter to Mr. Potkins telling him that his idea to open up Morton House is as ridiculous as most of his suggestions.”

“I can write to him, ma’am.” Caroline turned back to the front door.

“I wish you’d let me do it.” Mrs. Frogerton followed her out. She paused beneath the imposing, white-pillared portico guarding the front door. “I do so enjoy offending his sensibilities.”

They returned to the carriage, and Mrs. Frogerton chattered away about inconsequential things, allowing Caroline to regain her composure. If the claimant was indeed the new Earl of Morton, Caroline wished him well. The task of restoring the estate would be enormous. If the new earl didn’t have funds of his own, it would be virtually impossible to succeed unless the banks took pity on him. And, if he was anything like his predecessor, or if the banks feared he might be, they would be extremely reluctant to lend him a penny.

To Caroline’s surprise, shortly after sending off her note, a rather agitated Mr. Potkins arrived at the house and begged to speak to Mrs. Frogerton and Caroline. He appeared in the drawing room and bowed low before sitting in the chair Mrs. Frogerton offered him.

“I was shocked to receive your note, Lady Caroline. I had no idea that the bank had allowed the property to fall into such a state of disrepair!”

Mrs. Frogerton looked as if there was a lot she might say about that, but after a glance at Caroline, she held her peace.

“It is certainly not suitable to receive guests,” Caroline agreed.

“Why can’t Caroline meet these people in your office, Mr. Potkins?” Mrs. Frogerton asked.

“We thought that a more … social approach with family might reveal more about the claimant than a series of documents,” Mr. Potkins said.

“You thought ‘the pretender’ might give himself away when he was more relaxed,” Mrs. Frogerton commented. “And that meeting a real member of the Morton family might shake his resolve.”

“There might be some truth in that, ma’am.” Mr. Potkins turned to Mrs. Frogerton. “But as the house is obviously uninhabitable, perhaps the meeting will have to take place in my office after all.”

“You could invite them to meet us here,” Mrs. Frogerton suggested.

Both Caroline and Mr. Potkins turned to stare at her.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am?” Mr. Potkins was the first to find his voice.

“I’m considered a very good judge of character, Mr. Potkins,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “It is one of the reasons why I’m a successful business owner.” She smiled at Caroline. “Wouldn’t you agree, lass?”

“That is very … generous of you, Mrs. Frogerton.” Mr. Potkins shot to his feet with alacrity. “I’ll set up the meeting and send you the details as soon as possible.”

“Excellent.” Mrs. Frogerton nodded at the solicitor. “Good afternoon, sir.”

Caroline waited until Mr. Potkins was heading downstairs before she studied her employer. “That was very kind of you, ma’am, but you do not need to put yourself out for me.”

Mrs. Frogerton sighed. “I must confess that I wasn’t just thinking about you, my dear. Since Dotty’s departure, I fear I am likely to suffer from a lowering of spirits, or at least a lack of things to do. Perhaps this might take our minds off our troubles?” She looked inquiringly at Caroline.

“I, too, feel somewhat at a loss,” Caroline acknowledged. “If you are willing to receive the claimant to the earldom, I can only appreciate and applaud your good nature.”

Mrs. Frogerton sat back with a contented smile. “Then let’s wait to hear from Mr. Potkins, and perhaps you might consider what questions you need to ask to ascertain whether this claim is valid.”

“I’ll ask Mr. Potkins to provide us with any information he has on the matter,” Caroline said. “He is very much in your debt and owes us that.”

“I’m actually quite excited, Caroline,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “I cannot imagine what kind of a person he will be.”

Caroline rang for some tea and resumed her seat. “I wonder if I have ever met this person. If he is a distant connection, he might have attended family events in the past. Perhaps I might recognize him and make Mr. Potkins a very happy man.”

“From what you’ve told me previously, Caroline, the Morton family weren’t close. It’s possible that this particular branch might have little connection with your own.”

“That’s probably more likely, ma’am.” Caroline was pleased to see the interest in her employer’s eyes and relieved to have something to occupy her own thoughts rather than worrying about Susan. “But if that is the case, I doubt I will be able to offer Mr. Potkins much assistance at all.”

“Let him worry about that, lass. All you can do is your best,” Mrs. Frogerton advised as she beamed at Caroline. “I must admit I’m quite looking forward to it already!”



When the doorbell rang, Caroline glanced over at Mrs. Frogerton before smoothing down the skirts of her second-best gown and rising to her feet. It had taken over a week to find a suitable day for the potential earl’s visit. Caroline had studied the meager information Mr. Potkins had given her and drawn up a list of questions with Mrs. Frogerton’s assistance.

Jenkins, the butler appeared at the door with Mr. Potkins at his elbow. “Your guests, madam.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Frogerton stood and nodded at the solicitor. “Mr. Potkins.”

Caroline’s gaze had already shifted to the group behind him hovering uncertainly by the door.

Mr. Potkins bowed. “Lady Caroline, Mrs. Frogerton, may I present Mr. Thomas Scutton, his mother Mrs. Scutton, and his sister Mrs. Mary Brigham.”

Mrs. Frogerton went forward, her hand outstretched. “You are all most welcome.”

Caroline followed her employer, her gaze fixed on Mr. Scutton’s face. He was tall and dark with a pale complexion and had a certain impatient air about him that reminded her of every peer she’d ever known.

She went to speak to him, only to have her hand grasped by his mother. “Lady Caroline! My, you have grown!”

She reluctantly turned to the older woman who was smiling at her. “Have we met, ma’am?”

Mrs. Scutton chuckled. She was a short, round woman with a lively expression, brown hair and vivid blue eyes. Her green day dress wasn’t fashionable, but was respectable, as was her daughter’s. “You wouldn’t remember, dear, you were very young at the time, but there’s no mistaking you.”

“I must admit, I don’t recall having met you before, ma’am. Was it in London?” Caroline asked.

“No,” Mrs. Scutton said. “You and your mother were at Morton Hall. There was some kind of celebration—an anniversary, perhaps? And everyone was invited to attend. You were only two or three at the time. You can’t possibly remember me.”

Caroline eased her hand free and turned to Mrs. Brigham, who showed none of her mother’s good humor in her expression. She was tall like her brother, and had dark hair and blue eyes like her mother. She wore unrelieved black and looked quite miserable.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Caroline said.

Mrs. Brigham tentatively offered her hand. “Likewise.”

“Oh, don’t mind Mary’s glum face,” Mrs. Scutton said. “She suffered a bereavement and is still in mourning.”

“I’m sorry to hear that and offer you my condolences,” Caroline addressed Mrs. Brigham.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Brigham murmured after a hard look at her mother. “I miss my husband every day, and I cannot wait until we are reunited.”

Finally, Caroline turned to Mr. Scutton. He looked steadily down at her, his long nose and brown eyes, reminding Caroline of many of the family portraits in her old home.

“Mr. Scutton.”

“Lady Caroline.” His voice was pleasantly modulated without a hint of an accent. He wore a plain dark coat, white cravat, and black waistcoat, which gave him a clerical air. “Thank you for agreeing to see us.”

“You must thank Mr. Potkins and Mrs. Frogerton for organizing matters,” Caroline said as she gestured for the guests to sit down. “I’m not sure if Mr. Potkins mentioned Morton House isn’t fit to receive visitors.”

“He did mention it.” Mr. Scutton looked at the solicitor. “From what I understand, the affairs of the earldom are in some disarray.”

“One might say that.” Mrs. Frogerton turned her snort into a cough and rang the bell for tea.

“My father wasn’t very good with money,” Caroline said. “He left a lot of debt behind.”

“So we understand.” Mrs. Scutton took up the conversation. “In truth, we thought long and hard before deciding to advance our claim, but it didn’t seem right to deny Thomas his birthright.” She smiled fondly at her son, but he didn’t smile in return.

For the first time, Ca. . .