Calamity Claresta

by Irene Estep

  * * *

  Thurmond offered Drake a ride back to the Clarendon, saving Claresta’s coachman from making another outing. Rather than talking about Miss Huntington as Drake would have preferred, the lawyer quizzed him during the entire trip about his inheritance, his background, and his family connections in America. He answered as politely as possible, without breaking number five on Druscilla’s list, which warned him not to speak of his involvement in trade or his management of the plantation. Luckily no one seemed to have picked up on the latter lapse he’d made during the conversation at dinner.

  Drake didn’t like this subterfuge that Druscilla insisted upon. It rather limited his conversations. Since there was little he knew about anything besides crops or shipping, the lack of things to converse on made him appear quite the bumpkin. Whatever would Miss Huntington think of him when she discovered he knew nothing about how to conduct himself as a titled gentleman?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Claresta noticed the slow, clip-clopping progress Reggie’s coach made over the cobblestone streets. "If your mother requested my presence in haste, why is your coachman taking his time reaching Grosvenor Square?"

  Reggie’s corpulent lips quivered. Claresta hoped he wasn’t about to have a fit of the vapors, for never having suffered a swoon herself, she did not carry vinaigrette.

  Finally, he replied, "I wanted a few extra moments of your time before you see Maman."

  "Why? Is Aunt Ester’s illness that serious?" Alarmed by Reggie’s reluctance to answer right away, she whispered, "Surely, she--she is not dying. I know I have been remiss in my visits, but only two weeks ago she seemed in perfect health."

  Her father’s illness progressed at such a slow pace that he had been moribund for more than two years. Claresta had not even realized the seriousness of his condition until he’d become bedridden. But, she had heard of ailments such as putrid fever that could take one away in less than a sennight.

  She allowed her cousin to capture her hand in his, bracing herself for the worst possible news. She wasn’t unsympathetic, nor disrespectful to her relative’s condition, but she wondered if her designing aunt would resort to dying as a way of preventing Claresta from fulfilling her father’s stipulation to wed. Another year of mourning would do it, she thought. Then, she dismissed the idea as too foolish even for Aunt Ester.

  "Well," Reggie hedged, "not precisely. Maman has been suffering such disquietude of late that it has resulted in a wavering spirit."

  Disquietude? Wavering spirit? She knew her cousin blamed her for any anxiety his mother endured. One of the reasons for Claresta’s infrequent visits was to avoid another of Aunt Ester’s lambasting lectures. As her cousin rambled on, suspicion began to slip into Claresta’s thoughts. She narrowed her eyes on her cousin.

  "What precisely is ailing my aunt? And it had better be significant for you to have claimed such urgency."

  Reggie chuckled nervously. "Mother wishes to speak with you about your latest gambit to acquire a husband, as do I. Proclaiming her ill may have been a slight exaggeration, but a necessary ruse to save you from making a grave mistake. I did it for your own good."

  "My--My own good!" Claresta had known Reggie for years but she was still amazed sometimes by his rationale. "My dear, misguided cousin," she said ruefully, "your idiocy is exceeded only by your impertinence. I cannot see how disrupting a perfectly lovely dinner party could possibly have been for my own good. Not to mention the embarrassment I will incur should Lockwood ask after my ailing relative, and I will have to attest to Aunt Ester’s perfect health."

  Reggie’s face swelled to a puffy redness. "Lord Norwood, is he? A pretender to the peerage, more like. ‘Tis more than obvious should one consider his manner of dress."

  Claresta emitted a sharp laugh. "Pray tell, elaborate if you would on that evaluation."

  Reggie at first appeared flustered as how to explain. Finally, he said, "Let us just say Brummell would give him the cut direct were he here to witness such provincial getup."

  "Brummell’s a fine example, to be sure," she said with an acerbic smile. "His excessive good taste, the desire to remain the first stare of the ton, overreached his pocketbook and was likely the cause of his sudden departure from London."

  "You are a vicious little chit to impugn a gentleman’s reputation with such hearsay. Anyone can have a run of bad luck."

  Claresta imagined Reggie could identify with such circumstances, although she would blame recklessness rather than bad luck which caused his losses at the gaming tables.

  Rather than going off on that tangent, she turned away and peered out the coach window to get her bearings. Something about the length of time it was taking to reach Grosvenor Square made her uneasy.

  "It was Lockwood’s countrified habits we were speaking of," Reggie said. ‘Course I did not have a chance to converse with the man at length, but it was easy to note even your Scottish butler has a less drawling voice. ‘Tis a sign of ignorance, to be sure. By the bye, what happened to Shipley?"

  Claresta allowed the yellow curtain to drop back into place. In the darkness, she could not tell which street the driver had just turned down anyway. Surely they should have reached their destination by now. She wasn’t in the mood to explain Shipley’s new position, so she countered his comments about Drake Lockwood.

  "He’s recently arrived from America," she said. That explained the gentleman’s way of speaking, but would do little toward promoting his integrity, which Claresta had a natural wish to uphold. Forgetting for the moment an illiterate provincial was everything she’d desired when she went searching for her matrimonial prospect, she defended Lockwood, "I find the gentleman’s silence a refreshing change. When he does speak, he does not waste time with a lot of frivolous chitchat."

  Reggie did not take the hint. "You are such an innocent at times, my dear. This American leads you to believe he is something he is not and you have fallen for his game. ‘Tis exactly why I came to rescue you. There seems the need to save your reputation from a worse tumble than it has already taken."

  "Deuce take my reputation and you, too, Reggie!" She snatched up her cousin’s cane and banged the roof of the coach. "Driver turn back to Gilbert House at once."

  The coachman ignored her demands and kept up the steady pace toward Grosvenor Square. Reggie said, "You would do well to look among your own kind for a husband, Claresta."

  "I have already looked, and in one way or another, they all came up lacking." Or maimed, or dead. She inwardly shuddered and then assured herself they were all uncanny happenings. No supernatural elements had been involved. It suddenly occurred to Claresta that Reggie had known about her guest before showing up at Gilbert House tonight.

  "You seem to have known Lord Norwood," she decided she should use Drake Lockwood’s title from now on, whether she believed it or not, "would be there tonight, and for what purpose I invited him. Pray tell me, Reggie, how you learned of my plans for this evening?" She hoped Edwin was not his source, for she would never forgive him for being a tattletale.

  "Egad, Claresta. All of London has probably heard by now of the upstart laying claim to the Norwood title and . . . and of the lady who accompanied him to Lester Denton’s office yesterday morning."

  "And you think to salvage my reputation, dear cousin. How utterly sweet," she said sourly as the coach finally pulled in front of her aunt’s townhouse. Claresta tried to brace herself for the tongue-lashing she knew was coming.

  The butler showed Claresta into the green parlor with Reggie following close behind. At first, she thought the lady might actually be ill. Her aunt had enough excess flesh to keep half London warm through the winter, yet she sat with a lap robe snugly tucked around her knees and her wing chair pulled close to the fire. If she was feeling the least incapacitated, she quickly recovered upon spying Claresta.

  "Well," Lady Westhaven said. "It is about time you came." She spoke this as if it were her niece’s fault the trip across Mayfair had taken so long. Her bu
lk of a figure towered over her niece by at least a head as she stood. Claresta sank to the sofa and clasped her hands into a tight ball.

  Her aunt fulfilled Claresta’s dreaded expectations. The lady reminded her niece that her every action reflected poorly on her and Reginald, moving in Society as they did. Lady Westhaven paced the floor and berated Claresta at length for her most recent conduct. Neither she nor Reggie interrupted Aunt Ester’s ripping peal.

  "You must desist this unnatural behavior at once." She sniffled, and dabbed her handkerchief delicately beneath each eye. In a tearful quiver, she added, "You are a disgrace to your father’s name."

  Of all things her aunt had said, this was the one that pulled at Claresta’s conscience the most. As she considered the source of the reprimand, however, the complaint lost some of its sting. Even before involving herself in business or implementing her current method of acquiring a husband, she’d been a disappointment to her aunt. Though Claresta had had two seasons among the ton, she had scorned all offers of marriage then, an unpardonable sin in the eyes of Society, and most especially Aunt Ester.

  Claresta’s father, too, had remonstrated with her over her stubborn resolve to make a love match or none at all. Love would come later, he’d told her, as it had for he and her mother. What a foolish romantic she had been. Was her stubbornness to now come back and haunt her? Claresta lifted her head from the fog in which she’d been transported in time to catch some of her aunt’s continued oration.

  ". . . circumstance, it is generous of Reginald to still have you. Marrying a gentleman with a title and standing among the ton will be the only way to correct the shame you have brought upon your family."

  Claresta wondered if her aunt had forgotten the shame brought on the family by Uncle Cedric. But she was tired and ready to put an end to her aunt’s remonstrations. "I quite agree with you."

  Ester gave her a steady, perplexed look, then sank onto the gold brocade sofa beside her. The gilded clock on the mantelpiece began to chime. When it completed striking the midnight hour, Lady Westhaven said, "There, Reginald, did I not say my niece is a sensible woman who could be reasoned with?"

  Reggie, striking a pose beside the hearth, said, "You are right as always, Mother. You are agreeable to a marriage then, are you not, Claresta?" Reggie asked hopefully.

  They both looked at her with such gratitude that Claresta was almost reluctant to bring the effusive pair to ground. "Quite agreeable that marrying a titled gentleman is just the thing. That is precisely why Lord Norwood should make a worthwhile consort."

  "Norwood!"

  The duet of voices rang loudly in Claresta’s ears.

  While her aunt sat looking too stunned to speak, Reggie dropped his pose and sputtered about for words. "B-But . . . you do not mean to, cannot possibly . . ."

  Claresta smiled sanguinely. "I quite understand how my good news has left you both speechless. Congratulate me at a later date, if you will. Now, I’m ever so tired and would be grateful if you would instruct your coachman to see me home."

  Not waiting for a reply she rose and walked out. The coachman was positioned by the front door, anticipating her return trip. Thankfully, he followed her orders to transport her back to Gilbert House without waiting for instructions from his master.

  * * *

  As Drake had predicted, Shipley waited up for him. After he removed Drake’s coat, the valet presented him with a billet brought to the hotel during his absence.

  He had only met Miss Huntington and the Norwood solicitor since arriving in London yesterday. He knew the message couldn’t be from the former since he’d just left her side. "Don’t say Denton has had a change of heart and decided to accept my claim at face value?"

  "I could not say, sir. ‘Tis not my habit to read my employer’s correspondence."

  Drake grinned at the cocky reply. Shipley did not show a spiritless demeanor, which said much about what Miss Huntington tolerated among her servants. Drake did not believe such an untamed household was anymore common in England than it was back home. But he’d always found that employees who were allowed to voice their own opinions made more loyal retainers.

  He broke the wax seal on the message and puzzled over its contents. "It appears I am being summoned by the Dowager Lady Norwood. Do you know anything about her, Shipley?"

  "Not much, my lord. I believe she is incapacitated to some extent. I’ve heard it said she has lived rather a reclusive life since her husband passed on."

  "Well, the lady demands to see me posthaste."

  "Then will you be going out again, my lord?"

  Drake refolded the missive and after tossing it back onto the salver upon which Shipley had presented it, he tugged ruthlessly at his cravat. "I think it too late to call at this hour. Send round a message in the morning that I shall present myself at her residence tomorrow evening. Miss Huntington invited me for a tour of the city tomorrow." He grinned. "I do believe it would be wise to keep our engagement. What think you, Shipley?"

  "Wise, indeed, my lord." A slight turn of the valet’s lips gave the tinniest impression of a smile as his hands were batted away from the buttons on Lord Norwood’s shirtfront.

  * * *

  Having agreed upon a very early start, Claresta arrived at the hotel Clarendon just after ten. She wanted the trek through Hyde Park over before the first circles of Society made their parade. Since that did not usually occur until five or so in the afternoon, she had plenty of leeway. Not that any ton member would deem to stop and converse with her, but the fact none of them would might be just as telling. She intended to give Drake Lockwood a full accounting of her circumstance . . . after they were wed.

  Then he could stay or go as he wished, for she would have fulfilled the mandate in her father’s will. The thought that Norwood might decide to go, or that he might loathe her for her deceit, disturbed her somewhat, but why, she could not say.

  Her groom went up to the rooms to get Lord Norwood, and when the gentleman came down the hotel steps, her heart fluttered mysteriously. She’d never experienced such a reaction before and wondered if she were coming down with something.

  "You look lovely this morning, Miss Huntington," he said and lifted her hand to his lips.

  A tingle ran the length of her arm. Most strange. She withdrew her hand quickly and stuttered, "D-do you drive, sir?"

  "Of course," he smiled, and she blinked to make sure she wasn’t looking at an apparition. He appeared so devilishly handsome in a light brown morning coat with brass buttons. The man didn’t dress in the strictest order of fashion, but the subdued shade certainly suited his bronzed features and again brought out the vivid dark shades vying for dominance in his blue eyes. His wide palm closed around her hand as he assisted her into the carriage, and a frisson of awareness shot up her arm. She remonstrated with herself for such school girlish behavior and turned to her groom. The elderly man was getting on in years and the last time she’d required him for an all day outing, she’d noted how tiring the ordeal had been for him. Besides, she wished him to grill Shipley about what he’d learned of Lockwood thus far. "Then I dare say, we won’t be needing you to drive us, Thomas. You can visit with Shipley until we return."

  Though seemingly reluctant, the elderly groom knew what was required of him and stayed behind as Claresta ordered. Lord Norwood took up the ribbons of the curricle and slapped them gently against the horses’ hindquarters. "It is a fine pair of grays you have, Miss Huntington."

  "Yes. My father had a good eye for cattle. He purchased them shortly before he became ill." Ruefully, Claresta added, "I fear, though, he did not get much chance to enjoy them."

  Drake noticed the sad lilt to her voice and remembered she wore gray that day at the tavern. "You miss your father terribly? Was his passing recent?"

  "Just over a year, and quite naturally I miss him."

  Quite naturally, she missed him. Drake wondered what Miss Huntington would say if he told her he quite naturally didn’t miss his father one whit
. He doubted she could understand his lack of affection for his parent. But he should have known the query was coming.

  "Are your parents still living?"

  "My mother died when I was but a tyke. I hardly remember her, but I’m told she was a very generous and lovely lady."

  "Oh, how tragic to not remember a mother’s loving touch. My mother succumbed giving birth to a son. My brother never drew breath. I’d just turned seven and was rather spoiled, I’m afraid. I took her passing as a personal affront. I wonder that Father didn’t lose patience, but he was always so kind, even when I became the most unruly brat ever. And your father?"

  "He passed on a number of years ago." He snapped the reigns, picking up the bloods’ pace to a brisk trot.

  Claresta wondered why Drake did not say more about his father. She opened her mouth to ask after the gentleman, but as they entered the gate into Hyde Park, Norwood slowed the curricle and switched the subject, commenting on the beauty of the landscape. As they traveled the path nearer to the mile long waterway that snaked through the park, she explained it had been more or less manmade as a dam had been built on the Westbourne to create the Serpentine.

  A gentleman, sitting astride a sleek black mount on the pathway near the Serpentine, tipped his hat to them. Claresta almost shrank against the carriage squabs when she recognized Viscount Langley.

  As Drake brought the carriage to a stop alongside, Langley dismounted and bowed to Claresta. The viscount was dressed in a stylish coat adorned with epaulets and brass buttons that imitated the military style of dress de mode with the apes of Society. He extended a long, slender hand to Lord Norwood as she introduced them. Langley lifted one dark brow on his high, aristocratic forehead and smiled at Claresta. She realized his handsome visage never caused the pitter-pat in her heart that she’d felt upon seeing Lord Norwood this morning.

  The gentlemen exchanged a few pleasantries, but Drake was reticent with his responses to Langley’s conversation. Claresta placed her hand upon Drake’s arm and returned his smile when he looked down at her.