by Regina Scott
Richard recoiled. “Widmore? The Marquess of Widmore? Why?”
Chevalier spread his hands. “This you will have to ask him. I merely do as he orders. I only know that he despised the lady’s husband for his weakness and admired the lady for her strength.”
Claire’s hand didn’t tremble, though the gun had to be heavy. “Then do not try me, sir. Tell Captain Everard the truth.”
“You will not like it,” he warned, but when she only raised the gun higher, he continued on. “I can tell you this—the English, they have their secrets, and who would think a harmless dance master would steal them?”
Richard frowned, lowering his fists. “What kind of secrets?”
Chevalier’s smile was grim, yet Richard felt the pride in it. “Political secrets. Are they not the most lucrative? Plans for war, intentions of alliances. The members of Parliament seldom leave all traces of their work in Whitehall. Often my instruction requires me to stay in their homes. Listening behind closed doors, picking the locks on their desks, it is all too easy.”
“But the marquess should be privy to those secrets,” Claire protested, hand shifting on the pistol. “He’s one of the most powerful men in Parliament, outside a cabinet position.”
“And how do you think he rose to such power?” Chevalier shook his head. “Always they underestimate him.”
“As they underestimate you, I think,” Claire murmured. She glanced up at Richard. “What shall we do with him?”
“Give him to the magistrates,” Richard said, knowing his disgust was evident in his tone.
Chevalier clasped his hands together, once more the weak-willed fop. “No, I beg you! His fingers are everywhere. I will not survive my trial. Let me go, to the ship. I will sail away and trouble you no more.”
Richard wasn’t sure which was the true Chevalier, the effeminate dance master or the cunning thief and marksman, but he knew he couldn’t trust the fellow. “You’ve admitted to theft, espionage and treason,” he said. “We could add attempted murder to the charges. I cannot see you escaping without paying the consequences.”
Chevalier took a step forward, eyes lighting. “And what if I tell you another secret? That his power extends beyond England to France! That he is aligned with Napoleon to bring England to its knees. I could name names, offer plans.”
“You lie,” Richard spat. “No Englishman would help the Corsican monster.”
His smile was twisted. “Only one who hoped to surpass him.”
Claire held out the pistol to Richard. “Shoot him. I cannot abide his babble another second.”
Chevalier darted back, paling. “Capitaine, you would not…”
“I might,” Richard told him. “And if I don’t, my cousin Vaughn Everard would be glad to have a go at you.”
Chevalier licked his lips. “But I cannot speak to your magistrate if I am dead.”
“True,” Richard allowed. “But you can sing to the magistrates just as well with only one leg, though I warrant it will be harder to dance.” He gave Claire his free hand to help her rise. “I’ll have Marshall send for the watch. Let’s see if they’re as interested in your stories as we are.”
* * *
Claire was more than happy to release the pistol to Richard’s care. The thing was cold and heavy, and she didn’t think she’d have the stomach to fire it. But it had served a purpose. Chevalier sat on one of the mahogany chairs, his head in his hands. And Richard and his family were safe.
Thank You, Lord!
She was also thankful Vaughn Everard had been out with the horses, waiting for Richard, during the fracas. As it was, he came barreling into the room with the elderly constable hot on his heels.
“Tell me the truth,” he demanded, grabbing the dance master by his lapel and jerking him to his feet. “What do you know of Lord Everard’s death?”
“Nothing!” Chevalier cried, hands up to ward him off. “I swear it!”
“You lie!” Vaughn spat, but Richard stepped between them.
“Stand down, Vaughn. We’ve no reason to think he was involved.”
Vaughn’s chest rose and fell as if he had run hard. “You can’t know that. I have to understand, Richard.”
Claire’s heart went out to him. How many times had she cried out, longing to understand why Winthrop had been so cruel, why he couldn’t love her? Yet the fault had rested in him.
“Mr. Everard,” she said quietly, and Vaughn’s head snapped around to meet her gaze. “We have an answer for you, but we will need to discuss it in private.”
He frowned, then glanced at the grizzled constable, who stood listening raptly to everything they said. Vaughn’s shoulders came down, and he released the dance master to step back. “Very well. Thank you, Lady Winthrop.”
Claire offered him a smile, wishing she could do more.
But You’ll have to do that, Lord. He needs You.
“It’s settled then,” Richard said. “Constable, I’ll go with you to take this fellow to the magistrates. Lady Winthrop, wait here.”
“Certainly not,” Claire said. Though her knee still protested her movements, she made her way toward the door. “I prefer to see this through.” She glanced back to find Richard shaking his head in obvious admiration.
“Madam, will you not take an order, just this once?”
“And set a precedent, sir? Never.” She headed out the door. “Now, come along, and do try to keep up.”
* * *
The magistrate was keenly interested in what the dance master had to say. However, the large-bellied fellow, who received them over his dinner, was clearly skeptical of Chevalier’s claims to be working for the Marquess of Widmore.
“Besmirching his betters,” he sneered, after sending Chevalier to be locked up for trial. “I’ve seen it often. Count on it, it’s all a humbug.”
Claire wanted to believe that the marquess was innocent. It was easier to think that a near stranger like Chevalier was spying on the aristocracy for his own gain. Yet, if Chevalier was stealing secrets on his own, what value could he have found in Dallsten Manor? As far as she knew, Richard wasn’t involved in anything that would gain the dance master a pretty penny to pass along. The Everard family had never been particularly interested in political matters, nor were they in positions privy to state secrets.
“And why should the marquess care if Samantha came to London?” Claire protested to Richard, as they headed back to Everard House at last. Night had fallen. Lanterns blazed beside fine town houses, and Claire caught glimpses of ladies in evening cloaks, and gentlemen in top hats from the windows of the carriages passing them.
“No reason that I can see,” Richard mused, leaning back against the cushions as if tired of it all. “Samantha thinks fondly of him. I know Uncle trusted him.”
“And he seems to remember your uncle and Samantha fondly as well,” Claire said, thinking back to their discussion at his daughter’s ball. That seemed so long ago now. She’d changed; Richard had changed.
Thank You, Lord, for that!
“Is any of it true, then?” Claire pressed. “It seems so far-fetched. How does your cousin have anything to do with French or English politics?”
“I wish I knew,” Richard said. “And I wish I knew how to protect her in the future.”
Claire agreed, and her body felt suddenly heavy, her energy drifting out into the dark night. Her leg throbbed; her stomach protested that she was late for her own dinner. Though they had triumphed for the moment, she wanted to lay her head down on the cushions and cry.
As if Richard knew it, he put his arm around her, and she leaned into him.
“We’ll keep her safe, Claire,” he murmured against her hair. “I promise.”
Faith in him eased her fears, and she took a deep breath, gathering her strength. His lips bru
shed her temple, soft, gentle, full of equal promise. She could have stayed like this forever.
But the carriage was slowing, and she knew they’d reached Everard House. Time to face Vaughn Everard. Time to face the future.
Richard climbed down readily, but when Claire hesitated to follow, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the door.
“Richard! What will your neighbors think?”
“That the Everards are once again set on scandal,” he replied. But he didn’t put her down until the footman had opened the door and ushered them into the entryway.
“Where’s Mr. Everard?” he asked the footman as Claire got her balance.
“With Lady Everard in the study, sir,” he replied.
“Go,” Claire said when Richard looked at her askance. “I’ll catch you up.”
He strode down the corridor. Claire followed more carefully, each step painful. She could hear voices as she approached—Samantha’s higher pitch and two deeper voices, each strident. But she was not prepared for what she found when she reached the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Richard must have been just as surprised, for he waited silently inside the doorway of the study. Claire thought the room must bear the stamp of his organized brother. The books and journals were neatly arranged on the pale white bookcases; the square, brass-appointed desk in the center of the room was well stocked with quills, ink and parchment. Heavy armchairs, upholstered in leather, sat before the white marble fireplace, where Samantha was standing, the red glow of the fire making her muslin gown turn as pink as her cheeks.
Two men stood opposite her, like equal points of a triangle. Tension called from every line of their lean bodies, their raised chins.
“Did you never think,” Vaughn demanded of the red-haired fellow, “that you might ruin her chances of a future? What of her reputation?”
“Now, there’s a first,” Richard murmured to Claire, as the other man, Toby Giles, stiffened. “Vaughn’s usually the one accused of ruining reputations.”
Claire wanted to smile, but she was concerned for the poet. Denied an outlet for his frustrations, would he now turn them on Toby?
For the moment, Toby was holding his own. “Anyone with sense would know otherwise,” he insisted. “I was just saying goodbye before heading home to Cumberland.”
“It’s all right, cousin,” Samantha said earnestly, gaze darting between the two of them. “The door was open. We weren’t really alone.”
“You had no gentleman to protect you,” Vaughn maintained.
“Stuff it!” Toby exclaimed. “She had me!”
“And by your own admission you were intent on saying goodbye,” Vaughn sneered.
“Fine,” Toby said. “I know what’s expected. I’ll just marry her, shall I?”
Claire gasped, and all three gazes turned to the pair in the doorway. Toby’s blue eyes were wide in surprise, Samantha’s dark gaze wider in shock, and Vaughn, Claire thought, actually looked relieved.
Samantha recovered first. “Oh, Cousin Richard, Lady Winthrop! I’m so glad to see you!” She rushed forward and threw herself into Claire’s arms, nearly oversetting them both. The girl must have felt it, for she disengaged hastily and put a hand on Claire’s elbow to steady her. Her look was worried, but not, apparently, for Claire’s discomfort.
“I don’t have to marry him, do I?” she begged.
Claire was not about to allow her to be forced into a loveless marriage. And she wasn’t sure the girl had done anything that required a hasty wedding to avoid scandal.
“Certainly not, dear,” Claire said with a look to Richard, who nodded.
“But I want to marry you!” Toby protested, hurrying closer. “I know I’m doing it badly, but I thought you felt the same way.”
Samantha clung to Claire. “Well, I…”
“Puppy,” Vaughn declared, passing the youth to stalk to Samantha’s side. He went down on one knee before her, handsome face tipped back, dark eyes deep and beseeching.
“Dearest lady,” he murmured, as if he and Samantha were the only two in the room, “never have I been privileged to meet a more pure spirit, a brighter light than yours. I am not worthy of your love, yet I crave it as the tide craves the moon. I would be honored above all things if you would consent to give me your hand in marriage.”
Claire wondered how any woman had the strength to refuse him. She glanced at her charge, hoping she might be proof against his charm. Lord, I don’t think he’s the right one for her, but show her Your will, not mine.
Samantha stared at him, lips trembling. “Are you just giving Toby an example of how it’s done, or do you mean that?”
He cocked his head, pale queue falling to one side of his black evening coat. “Do you wish me to mean it?”
To Claire’s surprise, Samantha glanced at her. “I don’t think so.”
Vaughn raised his snowy brows. “Madam, you wound me.”
“I’m sorry,” Samantha said, straightening as if finally sure of her answer. “But I’ve been thinking a lot lately about London and what Papa wanted me to do. He didn’t want me to follow his example, he said, and wait too long to wed. But he set another example, and Lady Winthrop helped me realize what it was. He looked at my mother and saw a pretty woman. He didn’t look deeper or he’d have known they’d never suit. If I’m to marry well, I must be sure of the gentleman’s character.”
Thank You, Lord! Claire pressed her lips together to keep from crying her praise aloud. She’d hoped she might help Samantha avoid the mistakes she’d made. It seemed she’d been successful, and her heart swelled with the knowledge.
“You’ve known me most of your life,” Toby said, venturing closer even as Vaughn rose. “Surely you know my character.”
“To my sorrow,” Samantha said with a teasing grin. “You’re a good friend, Toby, but I’m not in love with you.”
“You could be,” he insisted.
Claire watched her charge, but she saw no sign of weakening.
“Perhaps,” Samantha allowed. “But I won’t take a chance of marrying on that basis.” She turned to Vaughn. “I’ve only known you a few weeks, cousin, but you seem a great deal like Papa.”
Vaughn’s grin was sure. “Then you should know my character well.”
“Only enough to fear it. Papa learned faith and patience later in life, it seems. I’m not sure you’ve learned those lessons yet.”
He swept her a bow. “Then I shall have to prove it to you.”
Samantha took a deep breath and glanced at Claire again. “And that’s my decision. Do you think I chose wisely, Lady Winthrop?”
Claire beamed at her. “Exceedingly well.”
“Agreed,” Richard said, stepping forward. Beside him, his cousin and Toby Giles looked like mere boys to Claire. “The matter is settled, except for one issue.”
“Only one?” Claire couldn’t help teasing. “And what would that be?”
“They both missed the mark on how to propose properly,” Richard said. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
Claire caught her breath as Richard took her hands and cradled them in his own.
“We have known each other for years, Claire,” he started, dark eyes serious, “yet I feel in the last few weeks that I have truly begun to appreciate you. You care deeply for those lucky enough to be called your friends, and you do not hesitate to sacrifice your needs to meet theirs. Your determination in the face of difficult circumstances humbles me. The beauty of your face and form are only surpassed by the beauty of your soul.”
“My word,” Toby muttered.
“Hush!” Samantha insisted.
Claire could not find the words to speak. He was so intent, so sure of himself and of what he saw in her. She felt as if a rose blossomed inside her, opening its face
to the sun.
“I have long wondered whether I could be content on land,” he continued. “Even though my faith is strong, I’ve felt rudderless, adrift at times. Now I see that you are my anchor. With you, I can be truly at rest. I may never have the size of fortune or prestige your father wanted in your husband, but I will love and honor you all the days of my life. I want to be the one who stands beside you, supporting you, encouraging you, whatever storms arise. And on the days God blesses us with sunshine, I want to be the one to rejoice with you. Marry me, Claire.”
A laugh bubbled up. “You just can’t stop issuing orders, can you?”
He looked toward the ceiling a moment as if realizing what he’d said. “You’re right! Let me try that again. Will you do me the honor of marrying me, Claire?”
There he stood, so close beside her, this man she’d loved so long. She had no doubt in her mind what her answer must be. She felt as if the Lord had sent His blessings, that this union was what He’d intended all along. She was the one who had had to realize the wonder of it.
“Yes, oh yes,” she cried, and Richard drew her into his arms. Held in his embrace, his lips on hers, she knew she had come home as well.
Samantha’s applause brought Claire back to the present, and the fact that she and Richard had an audience.
“Oh, how marvelous!” the girl enthused. “Congratulations!”
As Richard released Claire, Vaughn clapped him on the shoulder. “Not bad, for a sea captain.”
“A sea captain no longer,” Richard said. “I’ll be content to manage the fleet from shore.”
“Taking the role of a pirate king, eh?” Vaughn joked, but Samantha started.
“Oh, Lady Winthrop, I nearly forgot!” She seized Claire’s arm, gaze bright. “All those letters you’ve been writing—we have answers! Fittings scheduled, calling cards left from people who want to meet me. Me!” She dropped her hold. “And the chamberlain sent the note with my credentials. I’m to be presented to the queen in two weeks!”
Pleasure rippled through her as Claire realized she’d made a difference here as well. Thank You, Lord!