by Irene Estep
Lady Norwood sighed deeply. "I will do what I can to still Lady Chelsworth’s tongue this evening. After that, it’s up to you."
"Thank you, my lady," Claresta said with some relief. "You have been very kind."
The dowager made to leave, but said first, "Kindness has nothing to do with it, Miss Huntington. I have reasons of my own to wish this alliance between you and the earl, not the least of which is seeing Norwood Manor restored to its former zenith. But, if I were you, I would not delay making a proposal too much longer. I have a feeling Chelsworth has in mind a similar offer for Lord Norwood with his daughter and timing can be everything, you know."
The dowager left, and Claresta walked over to the window and looked down. Young LeClair was busily clipping a rose bush that had overgrown its bounds along the west wall. The gardens were already regaining their shape under the gardener’s care. She squinted into the growing dusk when LeClair suddenly looked over his shoulder and scurried out of sight behind a untrimmed shrub beside the walkway. A moment later she saw Lord Norwood step into view with Lady Emmeline. He offered her his arm, and before they wandered down the curved pathway, he looked up toward Claresta.
The evening sun reflected off her bedroom window, so she did not believe he could see her. His lips turned upward, in a rather wicked grin that made her doubt her conjecture. She moved out of view, then turned and leaned against the cool stone wall. Would he take Lady Emmeline to a secluded spot and kiss her, too? she wondered.
The thought of him placing his firm lips against any other’s besides her own made Claresta lightly bang the back of her head on the wall in frustration. This was silly, she thought. She was five and twenty, not some starry-eyed miss fresh from the schoolroom.
Remember the objective, she told herself. She must keep it in mind at all times. Saving her inheritance was too important. She’d come a long way to get Lord Norwood to marry her, and she would not give up her quest.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Douglas informed Claresta the next morning that his lordship wished to see her in the library without delay. She’d hoped he’d gotten over some of his pique with her by now. But an order to present herself posthaste was not a good sign. No matter, she thought, her future would be forecast one way or the other this day. Her mind was made up. "Very well, Douglas. I suppose he’s still out of humor with me?"
"‘ard to say, miss. Near nipped me head off when he tells me to fetch the others. But they seems to ‘ve come away without much of a scathing."
"Others?"
"Been fetching ‘em in and oot all morning, miss. Shut the doors behind ‘imself and Lady Norwood afore the cock crows, ‘e did. Then his lordship has me bring Lord Westhaven to ‘um. Doin’t think he like it a bit, yoir cousin, being roused so early from ‘is bed. In a bit of a brown study, Lord Norwood, after that meetin’. But in a while ‘e calls in Lady Westhaven, and ‘is mood, might say, turns a tod frothy. Then he goes back in and closes the door. Says oim not to disturb him. "‘as some letters to write, ‘e says. A few minutes later, he jerks open the door and bellows--yes, bellows, miss, and oim a’ standing right next to the door, mind ye--’fetch Mr. Thurmond,’ he says. ‘Now,’ he says, when oim a bit longer going ‘bout things than he wishes. ‘Twas a bit dazed, ye see. ‘Is lordship is usually more reserved in ‘is manner.
"Now don’ you go to worrying too much ‘bout ‘im being in a taking now, miss. Colm as a windless sea, ‘e was, when ‘e tells me to fetch ye."
Like the quiet before a tempest, Claresta thought, and couldn’t help fretting over what the others might have told him about her. She didn’t think Mr. Thurmond would reveal anything damning, and her aunt would never admit even to herself that Claresta was listed on the black books of Society. But Reggie would likely find being intimidated by Lord Norwood a fine excuse to reveal her unsavory involvement in Trade and the hideous reasons behind Lady Chelsworth’s animosity.
And what of that lady, Claresta wondered, had she filled Drake’s ears with Town gossip during dinner last evening? There was no way of knowing, unless she came right out and asked him, and she couldn’t do that without giving herself away. In any event, she still held out hope that the gentleman would consider her favorable offer that would avail him to unlimited funds for improving Norwood Manor.
"Very well, Douglas. Tell Lord Norwood, I’ll be down soon." After closing the door behind Douglas, she drew a deep breath. She must get her thoughts in order. She sat down at the writing table and withdrew a sheet of foolscap from the drawer. She dipped the pen in the pot from the inkstand and meditated for a moment on the matter.
This would be her last chance. She’d make her proposal. If Lord Norwood refused her, she would leave and accept her fate.
She wrote down the order in which she would present her case. First she would explain about her inheritance and her father’s edict. She made note of her many investments and holdings, the most important of which was the importing company, Gilbert and Huntington. Next, she would remind him of his plans for the Norwood estates. To this, too, she added an itemization; restoration to the manor, drain and plant new fields, enclosures of lands, and so on. The finale would be the presentation of her generous settlement terms. How could he refuse?
Feeling better for being a little more organized, she folded the foolscap and tucked it into the pocket of her morning dress. She took a last glance in the mirror and wondered if she should have Lizette straighten the curls that had escaped her topknot.
The omulu clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven. Lord Norwood wanted to see her right away, Douglas had said, and here she’d spent almost half an hour laboring over her outline. She hurriedly tucked the loose strands away herself, decided she looked presentable, and went to face her destiny.
"Come," Drake said sternly, when Claresta scratched at the library door.
"My lord," she curtseyed. "I’m most sorry for the delay, but I was in the middle of dressing when you summoned me down."
She was lying, Drake thought. He wondered if Claresta knew her left eye twitched when she told an untruth. He’d first noticed it when he dined with her in London and she told the cock-and-bull story about her cousin managing her import business. Only he hadn’t known then the cause of the slight tick. The phenomenon seemed to confirm her guilt?
She had not come to Norwood Manor simply to console a sick friend, nor to become better acquainted with an arthritic old lady. No, her motives had been to trick him into matrimony. And he’d fallen for her trap, hook, line and sinker yesterday at the lake. He’d compromised her well and good in front of witnesses. Of course, she hadn’t ask him to kiss her like a madman in front of Lord Westhaven, nor had she asked him to ride her home on his lap. The disarrayed mess she’d been in when presenting herself in front of the Chelsworths had been the worst. Torn dress, no petticoat, her gown drenched to the point of outlining the dark nipples of her firm breasts. The memory sent a quake to his lower regions, and it took all he could do to keep from groaning aloud.
He’d smoothed things over well enough with the Chelsworths’. At least, Lady Chelsworth hadn’t thought him too insufferable, for she continued to throw her daughter into his way at every turn. The lady hinted at the tale being spread to here and sunder by the time he returned to London. The girl would make a presentable wife, more so than Claresta, if all he’d learned this day were to be believed. He thought of the vague understanding he’d had with Miss Richardson back in America. He hadn’t actually committed himself to the girl, had he? But he thought a long letter of explanation, however, would be due.
Then he’d found the papers Claresta had left in the library desk, and Drake made a quick decision. His fate was sealed. As was Claresta Huntington’s. Drake almost grinned.
He rattled the papers he held and said impatiently, "Sit down, Miss Huntington, we have much to discuss."
Her face turned a crimson shade when she looked down at the damning papers. Drake had found them quite by accident when he’d searched the des
k drawer for foolscap. After talking to Westhaven earlier, he’d decided to send a missive to London. Given the direct query, Westhaven seemed anxious to relate other accidents Claresta somehow seemed involved. That her former suitors were the only ones to suffer, seemed like a fluke to Drake. Because she’d been in their company each time an incident occurred, he became concerned that she may be in danger, as well.
The Black Eagle should have returned to London by now with his new identification papers. Drake would enlist Captain Mercer’s aid in protecting Miss Huntington, but with his own money readily available, he would be able to pay for Bow Street Runners. He’d already instructed Rutherford to inquire about hiring them.
"I would like to explain that," the lady said pointing at the marriage settlement Drake had clutched in his hand. She fumbled nervously for something in her skirt pocket.
"That won’t be necessary, Miss Huntington. Mr. Thurmond has already explained everything."
"Had to be done, my gel, what?"
Claresta swung around and saw the portly man sitting on the sofa before the hearth. He stood and held up his hands in denial of his betrayal. "’Twas the best thing, what? His lordship wanted to understand the legalities and such. His right, don’t you know. Can’t ask a man to put his signature to as complicated a contract as this, otherwise."
Drake held up the settlement papers in front of him and said, "I’ve taken the liberty of filling in the trustee for you."
"What!" Claresta snatched the paper from his hands and scanned it. "B-But, you can’t be my trustee."
"Oh, but I can. Quite legal, is it not, Thurmond?"
"’Tis the best way of it, as I see," the solicitor said in sheepish agreement. "Edwin is not of age as yet, Claresta, and goodness knows Lord Westhaven is not to be trusted to keep your holdings in tact. As for myself . . ." he shrugged, "I’m getting old and forgetful. You need someone with a sharp mind to tend to things for you."
I can tend to my own things, Claresta thought bitterly. But she could not say so, it might ruin her chances with Lord Norwood. Thurmond could just draw up another paper, a codicil. No, that was for a will. "I have not agreed to this."
"Is that not your signature next to mine?" Drake asked.
The paper shook in her trembling hands as she looked down at the damning signatures. She should have been more careful, she thought. She’d prematurely signed the article, thinking she would be in control of filling in the blanks when the time came to present her proposal.
Drake smiled in spite of his pique at the lady’s wily ruse. But he couldn’t stay angry with her for long. He’d come to terms with the situation somewhat during the last few moments, and he realized he’d been arse over teakettle for Claresta from the moment he set eyes on her. If she’d but told him her circumstances from the start, he might have come to her rescue without any coercion on her part. But he would rather be trapped in a dinghy on a stormy sea than admit it to her now.
A man must maintain some semblance of mastering his feelings. She only wanted to salvage her inheritance, and, his pride at stake, he would only allow her to believe that he wished the marriage so he could get her money.
"I promise not to usurp your cousin of his position in Gilbert & Huntington," he said condescendingly, already knowing Edwin’s exalted position of manager, too, was a ruse. More firmly, he added, "unless, of course, the profits should begin to decline without significant justification, then I would naturally see it as my duty to intervene."
Claresta sputtered, but no recognizable words came out of her mouth.
"Come now, my dear," Thurmond said, "his lordship could not be fairer than that, what?"
Seeing the look of defeat on his lady’s face, Drake was becoming apprehensive until he saw the color slowly flare along her slender neck. She turned vehemently on her solicitor.
"Fair? Fair? You have the audacity to call this fair. My own solicitor, my grandfather’s best friend, going behind my back and. . .and . . ."
"Now, now, my dear--"
"Don’t you now, now me, you old pettifogger. Why I ought to have you brought before the magistrate for, for disloyalty, that’s what."
"That’s enough, Claresta."
She swung back around, ready to give Lord Norwood a set-down as well, but the piercing look of disapproval made Claresta clamp her mouth shut on another nasty retort. Then his gaze softened, as if he understood the betrayal she felt.
She didn’t want his sympathy. She wanted, she wanted . . . She didn’t know what, but certainly not pity. But was it pity? she wondered, when his firm lips lifted into a breathtaking smile, and his eyes turned the deeper shade of blue she remembered from yesterday when he’d kissed her by the lake.
"Mr. Thurmond, as you can see my fiancée is quite overcome by her good fortune."
"Good fortune!" Her moment of repose was shattered. "Is it my good fortune to be shackled to a, a--"
"Parvenu? Is that the word you are seeking, Miss Huntington." Drake’s smile belied his distaste for the label. "If you would excuse us, Thurmond, Miss Huntington and I have a few details to work out between us."
"Certainly, certainly," Thurmond coughed and harrumphed a couple of times and asked before taking his leave, "Is that all right with you, my dear?"
Claresta threw the papers upon the desk. "It seems my permission is not needed, sir, now that your services are my . . . my fiancé’s," she almost choked on the word, "and not mine to command."
Drake’s smile thinned. "Thank you, Mr. Thurmond. I shall call upon you if you’re needed again."
The shutting of the door, though done quietly, seemed to ring hollowly for long moments after the solicitor’s departure. Claresta walked to the window and seemed to be occupied by something in the distance.
"We must discuss our plans, love." From the glacial looks she cast him when she turned around, Drake wondered why he’d failed to turn to ice. Instead he felt warm, even warmer than he’d felt yesterday with her seated on his lap during the bumpy carriage ride home.
"I am not your love."
He walked around the desk and leaned against it. "Come here," he said and crooked his finger.
"What do you want of me?" she asked, a slight crumbling in her tone. But, considerably out of charity with him, her posture remained rigid.
"Your obedience," he said teasingly.
"You . . ." she lifted her chin haughtily. "You have no right to demand obedience until after the ceremony, sir."
He felt enormous relief. She was going to accept his marriage proposal. He almost laughed aloud at that definition of the avowals set to paper. He wondered what her reaction would be if he had expressed his true feelings on the matter in a more romantic setting. He sighed. "Then, I shall endeavor to play the besotted swain until our wedding day. I beg you, love, come closer."
Strangely Claresta found herself obeying his seductive command. She was near enough she could feel the heat of him before he stopped motioning her forward. Her tightly drawn posture began to slacken against her will. She lifted her chin and asked tautly once more, "What is it you wish of me, my lord?"
"First, you are to call me Drake. Say it," he commanded and leaned forward until their lips almost touched.
Claresta closed her eyes. She could feel his warm breath brushing her face when he repeated the command.
"Say it."
"Drake," she whispered. She waited, and when he did not kiss her as she expected, she opened her eyes. He was so near that her eyes crossed when she tried to focus on his firm, smiling lips, so she closed them again. Irritably, she asked, "Well, are you going to kiss me?"
Her bluntness was almost Drake’s undoing. Fearing he would frighten her, he’d been trying to quiet the tempest that was gathering inside him before he touched her. "Do you mind?"
"It is your right, is it not?" Though her words were impertinent, her tone had softened.
Drake chuckled. He slid his arms around her. "It is my right," he said and touched her lips as gently as his rag
ing hunger for her would allow.
He devoured her.
As her arms circled his neck like an encroaching vine, his tongue wound erotically around hers. He tried to regain some semblance of calm. Breathing in her lavender scent made it very difficult to think logically. His hands moved restlessly along her muslin-covered back and wandered down to the soft roundness of her hips. He squeezed those soft cheeks lightly and moaned with pleasure when she burrowed her hips deeper against his rock hard length.
Claresta felt a weakness around her knees . . . no, it was in her legs, or maybe . . . yes, definitely a sluggish feeling had suddenly enveloped her entire body. A purring sound rumbled forth, and she realized she’d made it. She had never dreamed a kiss could make one feel so out of sorts. Her body seemed to move of its own accord, as if she were made to fit against Drake’s perfect hard planes. One plane jutting from between his legs seemed much harder than the rest. He pushed it against her stomach, and she undulated her hips to adjust.
Suddenly he burst away from her. His breathing was so short and raspy, she wondered if he were having an attack of apoplexy. But her own breathing was not exactly stable. She clamped her hand over her thumping chest.
He swore softly. "I apologize, Claresta. I never intended for things to get so out of hand."
"Oh," she said for lack of a better response. When he stepped away from her, she felt as if she’d been left to fend for herself on a deserted island.
"Perhaps, it’d be best if you went up to your room and packed now. We’ll leave first thing in the morning for London."
"London?" She regained her voice. The man ordered her about like a general to one of his troops.
"You must shop for a wedding dress and other necessities, I assume. It has been my experience that ladies enjoy purchasing various gewgaws for a special occasion. Besides, Thurmond said, you must be married within four weeks to retain your inheritance," Drake said. "It will take three for the banns to be read."