Blackmail and the Bride

by Sahara Kelly

  “Evacuees?” The Earl glanced at him.

  “I’m not sure. Mostly military at the moment. Mounted, on foot, in wagons…you can barely cross the street for them.”

  “The forces are indeed gathering, I’m afraid.”

  Richard nodded. “It’s going to be a big one, isn’t it?”

  The Earl looked out his window, silent for a long moment. Then he shrugged. “That’s up to others to decide, lad.”

  “Of course, sir. If that’s all…?” Richard prepared to take his leave.

  “No, as a matter of fact it’s not. I’d like to speak with you on another matter, if you have the time to spare?”

  “Of course,” answered Richard with alacrity. “I’m at your disposal, my Lord.”

  “Funny you should say that.” The Earl chuckled, rose and crossed the room to the small table in the corner. “Join me in a brandy? I’ve worked hard and you’ve been out in the chaos. I think we both deserve a few moments respite.”

  “Thank you, sir. Indeed, that would be most welcome.”

  The Earl poured the liquor generously into two glasses and motioned at the chairs arranged comfortably on this side of his study. “Sit.”

  Richard sat, wondering what the Earl wanted to talk to him about.

  The other man also took a seat, crossed his legs, and regarded Richard over the glass as he sipped. “I hear you’re having a spot of bother with Angleford.”

  Richard, caught mid-swallow, coughed as the brandy caught in his throat. “Er, yes, you might say that,” he rasped.

  “To the tune of five thousand guineas, if I heard correctly?”

  Growing increasingly unsettled, Richard nodded. “You are well informed, sir. Yes. The gentleman with whom I had expected to complete some business was killed and all our money vanished. I find myself unable to meet Angleford’s terms at the present time.”

  There was no point in prevaricating, since it was most likely that Perrenporth already knew every single detail and sum of money, down to the last sixpence.

  “Was it a foolish endeavor?”

  Richard straightened. “No, sir, it was not. We purchased a boat, found a reliable crew, and have managed to assist more than a few families in their attempts to leave Europe and return home. As you are well aware, transportation is a challenge right now, what with the military requisitioning most everything that moves, and prices for passage anywhere out of Brussels soaring to absurd heights. We kept our prices to no more than what was required to cover our costs, and thus we were able to carry more passengers than we’d anticipated, and all was accomplished with the utmost discretion. We did make a profit, in the neighborhood of ten percent for our investors and ten percent for us. It was not a scheme designed to gauge the desperate…”

  “Easy, lad. I never implied that it was.”

  Richard subsided. “Good,” he muttered.

  “However, Farley was a poor choice of partner,” observed the Earl in a moderate tone.

  “I know that now,” growled Richard.

  There was silence for a few moments as both men took another drink.

  “Why not go to the family? You have more than enough money there, I should think, between direct family and new in-laws.”

  Richard shot the Earl a look. “Would you?”

  The Earl met that look with one of his own. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Forgive the question, but I needed to see if you were the man of honour I believe you to be.”

  “Well then.” Richard drained his glass. “If there’s nothing else, my Lord, I should be on my way…”

  “A moment, if you please.” Perrenporth stayed him with a slight gesture of his hand. “Suppose there is a way for you to settle with Angleford, that doesn’t involve you asking for help from your family.”

  Richard’s eyes widened. “If it doesn’t involve anything illegal, then I’d be glad to entertain any suggestions, my Lord.”

  “Good.” The Earl’s grin was innocence personified. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Chapter Two

  Richard realized his mouth was hanging open and he shut it with a snap. The notion that the Earl of Perrenporth, a man of such vital import to England, and who had the ear of both the King and the Prince Regent — although not at the same time, of course—should have a proposition for him? A mere Ridlington? Unbelievable.

  “Uhh…”

  The Earl seemed to be considering his words. “Are you familiar with the name Branscombe?”

  Richard frowned in thought. “I have heard it somewhere before, I believe. Oh…wait, there’s a Toddy Branscombe in London. I think I met him at some club or other?”

  Perrenporth nodded. “Most probably. If memory serves me, he may be a nephew. The Branscombes are an old family; no title but a comfortable fortune. It came from the Caribbean, I believe. Something to do with rum, or sugar, or the like.” He waved his hand dismissively. “However, that’s neither here nor there. It’s Phyllida Branscombe-St. Cyr, bosom-bow of my wife’s, that I’m speaking about. And her immediate family.”

  “Ah.” At a loss, Richard just sat there, waiting for something that might make a lick of sense.

  “Lady St. Cyr has a niece, a girl she took into her home when her mama passed away. Looked after her, made sure she learned the dos and don’ts, and so on. It’s my understanding that this young woman appeared somewhat later in her parent’s marriage, which might have contributed to her willfulness—indulged and all that. Be that as it may, she managed to worm her way into accompanying Phyllida out of England, ending up here in Brussels.”

  “Resourceful,” commented Richard.

  “Indeed,” sighed the Earl. “Too resourceful for her own good. Always was, apparently. Good breeding, of course, but far too intelligent for her family and that led her into a lot of disagreements, I’m told. Losing her mama to the ague at an awkward age didn’t help.”

  “I can understand that,” agreed Richard, his mind darting back to his childhood and the mothers who had left their children all too soon.

  “Well, it so happens that the girl has found herself in a bit of a pickle here, in Brussels.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. She rather unwisely attended a party and escaped her chaperon. There were lots of our military present.”

  “Oh dear…” Richard wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what this was all leading up to.

  “Being the firebrand that she is, she managed to get herself into not one, but two compromising situations.”

  “Two?”

  “Two,” said the Earl, shaking his head.

  “How badly is she compromised, sir?” Richard didn’t know any other way to ask the question.

  “She was discovered kissing both of them at different times during the evening, and there was quite a bit of enthusiasm involved, I’m told.”

  Richard blinked. “That doesn’t seem too terrible, given the situation here in Brussels. Girlish exuberance, a wee drop too much punch, a couple of eager Hussars…and all that?”

  “Well, it probably could have been handled, if the damn chit hadn’t announced that she was engaged to be wed to someone else, and wouldn’t accept offers from either of them. Said she was just experimenting. This was after the two of them started a brawl over her favors that all but destroyed the place.”

  “Oh.” Richard thought about that and grimaced. “Any idea why she kissed them in the first place?”

  “You’re asking me?” The Earl shot him a helpless glance.

  “Is she? Engaged, I mean?”

  “No.” The Earl frowned at his glass. “She’s created far more of a scandal by that lie, because now everyone wants to know who the lucky man might be and what she might have been up to with other men. She can either say nothing or lie once more and dig herself an even deeper hole. Not a good option either way. But she seemed to believe announcing an engagement would settle everything.”

  “Er…you did mention that she was intelligent, didn’t you, sir?” Richard felt his eyeb
row rise, but fought to bring it back down. Sarcasm wouldn’t be appropriate right now.

  “I did. And where her brain was at that point, I have no idea. But now she’s found herself at the center of a shocking scandal that is running through Brussels like dysentery.” He blinked. “Pardon the terrible analogy.”

  Richard fought a laugh. “No matter, sir. You have made your point quite clearly.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, trying not to be too amused as he listened.

  “Her aunt is in great despair, according to my wife. They both stayed at home last night—a true measure of the depths of that despair, I might add—and tried to come up with a plan to salvage what’s left of the girl’s reputation. She’s the Branscombe’s only child, and her remaining family want the best for her—of course they had hoped for a good match. This affair has pretty much ruled out that possibility. They’re at the point where the reputation of the whole family might be jeopardized.”

  “And I take it that if this scandal reaches London, then…”

  “Precisely.” The Earl straightened in his chair. “So here’s my proposition. I will settle the five thousand guinea debt you have with Angleford, if you will undertake to be the unnamed fiancé, marry Cressida Branscombe and take her back to London.”

  “But…” Richard’s mind whirled, closed its eyes and felt a bit sick.

  “She’s not bad-looking, and certainly brings a respectable name to the marriage, even if it is a little tarnished here in Brussels. But arriving back in London as Mrs. Richard Ridlington will set things right.”

  “For her, maybe,” countered Richard. “But what about me?”

  He encountered a cool gaze. “You would be debt-free, to begin with. Do you have anyone expecting a proposal of marriage from you back in England?”

  Richard shook his head.

  “Excellent.”

  “But…but I hadn’t planned on marriage. For years. If ever. I’m not sure I classify as a good match, either.” He ran a hand absently through his hair. “My family is not renowned for healthy relationships, my Lord.”

  “I knew your father, Richard.” This time the Earl’s gaze was tinged with something that might have been sympathy. “He was not what one would call a nice man, by any means, and I don’t even want to know what kind of father he was. But I believe he instilled a sense of honour into his offspring, if nothing else. You have demonstrated reliability and responsibility in your work for me, and I can obviously guarantee that you are debt free. At this time, the Branscombes could ask for little else in a husband for their daughter. She needs stability, a husband who is of good birth, and someone who won’t hurt her or treat her badly. I believe you qualify on all counts. So I can see no impediment to this match, can you?”

  “I…uh…”

  “Oh, there will be a dowry, of course, but I haven’t had the final figures on that yet. Also there’s a property that comes with her, Branscombe Magna, in Devon. Bit run down these days, I’m told, but the estate is in good heart.”

  Richard stared back at him. “Forgive me, my Lord, but is there anything you don’t know something about?”

  The Earl smiled. “Yes, lad.” He paused, then sighed. “Women.”

  *~~*~~*

  “What could I do?” Richard thrust his clothing willy-nilly into a valise. “I had absolutely no choice whatsoever.”

  His companion, Colour Sergeant Finn Casey, gaped at him. “You’re getting married?”

  “Yes.” Richard sighed and plopped down on the side of his bed. “Farley’s dead and the money’s gone. Angleford is within his rights to take everything I have and then sue the family for payment. Would he? I don’t know. But I do know that I won’t risk dragging Edmund into this mess. He and my sister-in-law Rosaline have done so much already for all us, bringing the Chase back from the brink of disaster.”

  “But marriage?”

  Richard shrugged. “My family isn’t too good at the whole wooing experience, Finn. Our father saw to that. So I never expected to be knocked off my pins by the simple glance from a lovely pair of eyes. I will have to marry, I suppose, so why not now? At least I’ll know she’s of good birth.”

  Finn shook his head. “So you’re leaving Brussels, then…”

  “Yes. Today. Or rather this evening. Perrenporth, damn him, is the most efficient man I’ve ever met. I’m to meet my bride on the wharf next to a boat called The Jolly Fellow.” He snorted. “Not in the least bit reflective of my frame of mind, I can tell you. However, we shall then board her and cast off, at which point her captain will perform the ceremony and I shall have acquired a wife within ten minutes of setting sail.”

  “And then to Antwerp?”

  “I assume so. I believe this vessel is sturdy enough to make the crossing, so in all likelihood we’ll remain on board until England rises into view on the horizon.”

  “At which point you’ll jump overboard?” Finn grinned, his whisky-coloured eyes lighting up. “Good God man, it’s not that bad. You’re sitting here looking like a rainy Sunday, when you’re about to get married and leave this bloody place.” He stretched, his uniform glittering in the pale sunlight streaming in through the window. “It’s a damn sight better than those of us waiting for the call to arms.”

  Richard’s skin chilled. “Merde,” he swore. “Yes, you’re right. But your regiment will be in reserve, won’t it?”

  “I don’t know.” Finn’s usually jocular tones disappeared. “It’s going to be unique, Richard. And probably bloody. The mutterings I’ve heard are not reassuring. I think we’ll all see action, every single soldier here in Brussels and the ones who aren’t here yet. Rumors have Blucher on the way with his forces. The supply lines are almost at a standstill. We wouldn’t need that kind of armament if Wellington wasn’t anticipating something on a massive scale.”

  “I’ll pray for all of you,” said Richard quietly, knowing it meant little but needing to speak the words.

  “That will help,” answered Finn. He dredged up a grin. “And I’ll pray for you and your new bride. What does she look like?”

  “I haven’t a clue.” Richard rose and pushed the last of his clothing into the valise, snapping it shut. “The way my luck’s going? Well let’s just say I doubt she’s an Incomparable.”

  “She must be pretty enough that two of our military kissed her.” He chuckled. “Think of it. Only two. It must have been a very sedate ball.”

  Richard laughed as well. “Agreed. At a real party, she’d have been caught with her skirts over her head—and certainly more than twice, no matter what she looked like. Let’s face it, our lads will kiss just about anything these days.” He picked up his bag. “Well, I’m off.” He looked at Finn. “Take care of yourself, my friend. I’ll be watching for news of your triumphs.”

  “My thanks. And my congratulations to the bride and groom, of course.” He extended his hand, shaking Richard’s with a firm grip. “Name your firstborn son after me?”

  “I’ll consider it…”

  With a final smile and a wave, Richard left the rooms he’d shared for several weeks with a man who had become a friend. Walking out into the late afternoon sun, he was immediately swept up into the chaos, dodging women with bundles, men with boxes, soldiers walking in groups, and the incessant rumble of carts, wagons and carriages over the cobblestone streets.

  He gulped down a ball of fear that had lodged in his throat. How many of these men would survive the oncoming battle? Would he ever see Finn again, or the madly delightful lads he’d shared tankards with at the local taverns?

  For a brief moment, anger swept over him. Anger at the human race for finding it so easy to kill, and anger at the politicians and leaders who sent their troops off to die on a regular basis.

  Then he took a breath. He’d done all that he could for Perrenporth. And he knew the Earl was a man of logic and reason. If there was a way to lessen this conflict, Perrenporth was the man to do it. Richard could only hope that his small contributio
ns had helped in some way.

  Knowing that his fate lay in the other direction, he turned against the tide of humanity and made his way toward the docks bordering the river Senne. It was every bit as busy there, if not more so, and the sun had lowered considerably by the time Richard found himself looking at a sturdy vessel bearing the name The Jolly Fellow emblazoned in gold on its bow. There were many piles of boxes and several trunks stacked beside crates labelled for English destinations.

  The ship itself looked seaworthy and the crew went about the business of loading cargo with no particular fanfare. The small portholes were shining, the railings were clean and the sails, although furled at the moment, were of a pale blue that seemed well-tended. All in all, it was a ship he’d have booked for himself. Obviously the Earl’s staff had made sure that the transportation for such precious cargo as Miss Cressida Branscombe was up to the task.

  He looked around, wondering how he would recognize her if she were here already. Logically she’d be accompanied by a maid, and probably a large quantity of luggage. So he strolled the length of the ship and back, finally observing a small figure sitting on a crate near the gangplank.

  He walked over to see a girl in a plain dress and unadorned bonnet, most likely a maid, with what looked like a mop in her lap.

  “Ho, girl,” he said. “Are you maid to Miss Branscombe, by any chance?”

  She lifted her head and stared at him, eyes limpid green, fringed by dark eyelashes. “Why no, sir. Were you looking for her?”

  Her voice was pleasant, well-educated, so clearly she was maid to somebody of quality. “Yes. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” He looked around again. “I’m to meet her here. So if you see her party arrive, I would like you to let me know immediately.”

  She had looked away and was fondling the white pile of fluff on her lap.