by Regina Scott
Claire was equally quick to speak with him when he joined her and Samantha in the withdrawing room. The dance master had returned, and he and Samantha were looking over the sheet music, probably choosing the accompaniment for their practice session tomorrow. Claire moved toward Richard, her smile welcoming but her steps measured, and he hurried to meet her to save her any pain the effort might cause.
“Did you talk to the constable?” she murmured, gaze fixed on his. The blue of her eyes looked deeper, as if her concerns had darkened it.
“No,” Richard replied. “I wanted to give Giles an opportunity to explain first. He wasn’t home. I left word with his family that I must talk to him.”
“Perhaps this is your answer, then,” Claire said, holding out a folded sheet of parchment much like the previous note. “Mrs. Linton found this shoved under the kitchen door. It was addressed to me, but I think you’d better read it.”
Chapter Twenty
Claire could barely force herself to stand there beside Richard, near the door of the withdrawing room, watching as his russet brows drew down, his dark eyes narrowed. She refused to give in to the ache in her knee when so much was at stake.
The moment Mrs. Linton had handed her the note, she’d known she was in trouble. There was her name, Lady Claire, bold as brass on the outside of the folded sheet, as if the writer was a close friend. And what was inside was worse.
Captain Everard may not appreciate the danger, but you do. The shot today was a warning. You and the girl will never be safe until you give up the idea of going to London. I count on you to convince him.
“Mr. Giles has never had a conversation with me when you or Samantha weren’t present,” Claire said to Richard, as his gaze swept over the page. “I cannot conceive why he’d think I’d help him in this odious plot.”
Richard crumpled the note in his fist. “This is rubbish.”
Claire frowned, unsure whether to be relieved or concerned by how easily he dismissed the note. “Rubbish? You can say that after today?”
His gaze met hers. “I say rubbish, madam, because I refuse to be diverted from my course by a phantom. Can you be ready to leave for London tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Claire clutched at her gown to steady herself. “Impossible. I need at least two days to finish packing.”
“Leave a list with Mrs. Linton. She can send the items.”
“Perhaps,” Claire replied, mind reeling with all she’d have to accomplish to honor his wishes. “But just repacking the necessities into smaller cases we can bring with us in the estate’s carriage will take the better part of a day.”
His mouth tightened. “Are you determined to stay here?”
She should be. The manor, with its stone towers and strong walls, was secure. Besides, what if the notes truly were meant as a warning? What if something dangerous lay waiting for them in London?
“I don’t know what to do,” she told Richard. “Is it too much to ask to wish to feel safe?”
He paled. Shoving the note in the pocket of his waistcoat, he put a hand on her arm as if to comfort her. The touch was as warm as an embrace. “Forgive me, Claire. You have every right to feel safe. I’d like to pummel the fellow who’s sending these notes. Failing that, how can I ease your concerns?”
She rubbed his hand, marveling at the strength, the determination, all for her. “You want to pummel him—I’d prefer to face him down.”
He grinned. “You like making bullies bow down, don’t you?”
Thank You, Lord! You gave me that strength! Claire returned Richard’s smile. “Perhaps I do. Unfortunately, he may be more right than he knows. If Samantha isn’t ready, she is safer in Cumberland. And staying here gives you sufficient time to find this enemy and stop him.”
He sighed and withdrew his touch, and she knew his answer before he spoke. “Samantha must go this year. Staying in Cumberland is out of the question. I’ll give you tomorrow, Claire. We leave for London on Tuesday morning. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should change for dinner.”
Claire watched him leave the room, his head high and proud, then she sighed. What was wrong with him? He claimed the notes were rubbish, yet he was willing to uproot the household in response. What was in London that he felt so compelled to go?
Monsieur Chevalier excused himself and left to change as well, but Samantha joined Claire as they started up the stairs. “What was wrong with Cousin Richard? He looked in a fearful temper.”
“He did indeed,” Claire replied, hand firm on the polished oak banister. “It seems we’re leaving for London sooner than expected. The day after tomorrow, to be precise.”
Samantha clattered up the stairs ahead of Claire, then glanced back, excitement dancing in her eyes. “You mean Tuesday?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Claire said, trying to keep moving despite the throb of her knee. “Come with me to my bedchamber, if you please. I need to think.”
Samantha hurried ahead of Claire, humming a snatch of a hymn they’d heard that morning. Claire found her seated in one of the armchairs by the fire, hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“What must we do?” she asked as Claire sat opposite her.
“The list is long, I fear,” Claire replied, adjusting her skirts and using the movement to give her knee a gentle rub. “We’ll have to repack, of course, let Monsieur Chevalier know that we will have to dispense with his services, make sure the carriage and horses are ready and send word to Everard House to expect us.” She smiled at Samantha. “I imagine your Cousin Vaughn will be delighted with the change of plans.”
Samantha’s smile broadened. “Oh, I hope so!” Suddenly, she sobered and sucked in a breath, leaning back from Claire. “It’s happening rather fast, though, isn’t it?”
Claire cocked her head at the sudden change in attitude. “Dearest, what’s wrong? We will have to work hard, but we can be ready by Tuesday.”
“I suppose,” Samantha said, but her lower lip trembled.
Claire leaned forward. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”
Samantha’s eyes were huge in her fine-featured face. “I want to go to London, truly, but it’s a bit much.” She visibly swallowed. “Perhaps too much?”
“There, now,” Claire said, conviction building. She reached out, took Samantha’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “Nothing says you must go this year. You’re only sixteen. You can come out next year, or the year after.”
Samantha brightened, then slumped against the back of the chair. “No, it must be now. My cousins are counting on me.”
“I’m certain they will understand,” Claire assured her.
“But I promised!” She stood, as if sitting was too constraining, and began to pace about the purple room.
“Promised what?” Claire asked, watching her.
She turned with a swirl of her muslin skirts. “That I’d be presented and go to balls and attract suitors.” She shivered as if the ideas were abhorrent. “That’s what Papa wanted for me.”
Though her leg protested, Claire rose and went to put her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “And what do you want?”
Samantha frowned. “I no longer know. Once I wanted to stay here and marry Toby Giles and raise horses.”
The vision nearly made Claire smile, for she could see Samantha in the role. But she also knew the vision had been formed from an incomplete knowledge, particularly about the character of a certain young man. Claire had made the same mistake once, thinking her life must be only what she’d experienced so far, fearing to venture into the unknown, relying on someone she thought she knew.
Help her, Lord, to see the wider choices, to see Your will.
“And what do you believe is right for you now?” Claire asked.
Samantha met her gaze. “Now I wonder if there might be more for me, if I tried.
”
Thank You, Lord! Claire hugged her. “So much more, my dear,” she murmured. “I promise we will discover it together.” She pulled back to eye Samantha again. “But you needn’t rush into it. It will all be there next year, too.”
“But Papa’s fortune won’t.”
Claire frowned, releasing her. “Your inheritance is in jeopardy?”
“Not mine,” Samantha said. “My cousins’. Unless I am presented, make my coming out and receive offers from three presentable gentlemen, Cousin Jerome, Cousin Vaughn and Cousin Richard inherit nothing.”
Claire stared at her. “By whose command?”
“My father’s will.” She sighed. “He laid it out very specifically. Their fortunes depend on me.”
What a burden to place on a young girl! Claire had never felt less in charity with the late Lord Everard. “What a horrid way for your father to treat them, after all they did for him!”
Samantha nodded, face puckered. “I know. But Papa really did it for me. He wanted to make sure I found my place in the world, and that they would help me when they found out about me. He seemed to think they might resent me, because I get the title and the lion’s share of the Everard legacy.” She smiled sadly. “I truly don’t think he should have worried. My cousins are very good to me.”
So Claire had thought. It couldn’t have been easy learning their uncle had a daughter they’d never known. But Claire had assumed they’d received their inheritances from Lord Everard, that they helped Samantha now from a sense of love and duty.
What if she was wrong? She’d misjudged Winthrop all those years ago, seeing the man she’d wanted to see instead of the man he truly was. Had she done the same with Richard Everard and his cousin Vaughn? Samantha’s father had hidden his daughter in Cumberland for a reason. Had he mistrusted his nephews so much? Was that why he’d set up his will in this manner, to ensure that they helped the girl? And were they helping now merely because their own fortunes depended on it? How hard were they willing to push the girl to get what they desired?
Richard had gone to sea years ago to make his fortune, no matter the cost to their future together. She had never heard whether he’d been successful. Certainly he’d never stayed in England long enough to spend a fortune. Was that because he loved the sea so much, or lacked the funds to be elsewhere?
And was he willing to make that fortune now, at Samantha’s expense?
Claire laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Please know I only want to help. This decision must be yours. If you choose to wait, I will support you.”
Samantha nodded and immediately turned the subject to what must be accomplished on the morrow. With only a little time left until dinner, they parted to change. Claire’s mind, however, remained fixed. She’d been pushed to make the most important decision of her life. She could not allow Richard to do the same to Samantha.
She was in no mood to appreciate the lovely meal Mrs. Linton served up, ham surrounded by potatoes layered with cheese and mushrooms and accompanied with vegetables fresh from the Kendrick conservatory. The others seemed equally distracted. At the head of the table, Richard chopped into his asparagus as if fighting off Barbary pirates, and Samantha pushed her candied carrots around her gilt-edged plate. Only Monsieur Chevalier seemed unaffected, chatting about gossip he’d heard in Carlisle and helping himself to seconds from the nearest serving dishes.
“We had some excitement, too,” Samantha said at one point. “A poacher shot at us.”
Chevalier choked on his ham and reached hastily for his glass. “A poacher, you say,” he replied when he had caught his breath. “Such dangerous times we live in—poachers in the woods, highwaymen on the roads. Perhaps you should stay in Cumberland, Lady Everard.” He laughed as if he’d made a clever quip, and Samantha giggled.
Claire barely kept her hand steady on the silver. Clearly, the dance master also still thought Samantha should wait. Was he an ally?
“Tomorrow we will start on the Sir Roger de Coverley, I believe,” he continued, as Maisy brought in a strawberry trifle and cheeses for the second course. “You will enjoy it, I know.”
Richard cocked a grin. “You haven’t heard. We make for London on Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?” He blinked, paling. “Why?”
Claire glanced at Richard as he selected a slice of cheddar. This was his chance to explain, to say something that would ease her concerns. Please, Lord, show me I’m wrong!
But all Richard said was, “I decided we would do better to be in town sooner.”
“Oh, certainly,” Chevalier said, though his recovery was faster than Claire’s. “Mind you, you did request my time through Easter.”
“You could come with us,” Samantha suggested hopefully.
“Or find another sponsor,” Richard said with equal encouragement.
“Unless, of course, you can explain to Captain Everard why Lady Everard isn’t ready,” Claire said.
Silence fell. The dance master glanced around as if surprised to find himself suddenly the center of attention, then started preening. “I believe Lady Everard will be a shining star in London, after a little more work.”
“Nonsense,” Richard said as Samantha deflated. “You called her a butterfly on a mountain. That’s good enough for me.”
“But not for me,” Claire said. “I have survived a London Season, sir. I know what it takes to be successful.”
“You do indeed,” he said with a smile of admiration, but this time his praise failed to warm her. “And I’m sure Samantha will do equally well.”
Claire smiled. “A young person blessed with a fortune is always popular, sir. But I’m certain you knew that.”
Both Samantha and the dance master were glancing back and forth between the two of them. Richard’s frown was focused on Claire, as if he couldn’t understand the source of her animosity. “Stand down from quarters, madam. I mean no harm.”
She wasn’t willing to give up. “Then you agree Samantha may enter the Season on her timing, not yours.”
He returned his gaze to his plate. “My orders stand. We leave for London on Tuesday.”
Claire set her napkin on the table and rose. Monsieur Chevalier scrambled to his feet. Richard looked up at her, obviously surprised.
“Then, pray excuse me this evening, gentlemen,” she said, though hiding her emotions took more effort this time. “I have a great deal to do to be prepared. Lady Everard, please join me upstairs when you’re finished.”
She swept from the room. Better to spend her time in useful pursuits than mulling over the fact that the man she loved was apparently intent on using a young girl to his advantage.
* * *
Richard stayed at the table long after Claire had left, puzzling over her reaction. Samantha had excused herself a short time later. Only the dance master seemed to feel obliged to keep him company.
“The fairer sex, alas, cannot comprehend the times and tides, eh, Capitaine?” he commiserated, moving to the seat next to Richard and filling his own glass.
Neither could the dance master, Richard thought. What an interesting profession that all he need worry about was the correct placement of a shoe against the floor.
Chevalier didn’t seem concerned by his lack of response. “A gentleman must remain constant in his opinions,” he said after taking a sip. “Else the empire would crumble, I fear.”
Richard eyed him. His smile was pleasant, comradely, but his gaze remained focused on Richard as if gauging his response. “Do you call me inflexible?”
Chevalier waved his free hand. “Not at all! I am certain you are the rock on which Lady Everard can rest secure.”
“Yet you agreed with Lady Winthrop,” Richard said, leaning back from the table. “You feel Lady Everard isn’t ready for London.”
He smiled ruefully a
s he set down his glass. “I have tutored many young ladies in the dance. I can tell when they are ready, and when they hesitate. She hesitates.”
Richard snorted. “She doesn’t hesitate anywhere else. She’s been known to jump in where angels fear to tread.”
“A lady after my own heart.” One finger traced the flower pattern woven into the damask cloth. “Humor me a moment, Capitaine. I have some experience in these matters. You may have been told that I came to England to escape the Terror. England was to be the land of sanctuary, you know.” He made a face as he pulled back his hand. “But opportunities here are not what I’d hoped. Often I wonder what would have happened had I had stayed and fought. I hope that Lady Everard does not end up living with such regrets.”
Richard knew all about living with regrets. How many times had he wondered what might have been had he stayed in England? Was he encouraging Samantha to make the same mistakes? He’d been so young, too young to know what he wanted, too proud to ask God’s direction. Yet, surely going to London was the right thing, for everyone concerned.
“I will do my best to ensure my cousin has no regrets,” he promised the dance master.
Chevalier drained his glass and set it on the table. “Now, that I am very glad to hear, Capitaine. Perhaps you will consider my advice, eh? Now, if you will excuse me, I must pack my things as well.”
Richard nodded, and the odd fellow left him to his thoughts at last. Yet his suggestion kept running through Richard’s mind. Samantha had to go to London, but was Richard wise to encourage her to leave now? On the other hand, if she stayed in Cumberland, would she be safe from this person who threatened them? Their enemy claimed London to be the more dangerous, yet Richard had never been shot at in the city! If all else failed, he had loyal officers and sailors in London waiting for their ship to be ready. He knew he could keep her safe there.