Calamity Claresta

by Irene Estep

  "Is this another of your manipulative tactics, my love? For it is you who would have been harmed, not I." She was nonplused to his meaning, but thankful that some of the thunderous rage had disappeared from his eyes. "It was blasted good fortune that I came along when I did."

  Drake’s body began to react to her softness pressed beneath him, and he suddenly realized a truth he’d been denying all along. He wanted Claresta Huntington no matter what hooks and crooks she’d devised to lead him into a parson’s mousetrap. He dipped his head and kissed her. Her lips were warm and moist and more responsive than he could have hoped. He deepened the kiss until he felt himself being lifted by the scuff of the neck. Drake was six foot tall, but the man who held him several inches off the floor made him feel like a dwarf.

  "You get away from Miss Huntington," the large man said and shook Drake until he wobbled like a puppet on a string.

  "It’s all right, Martin. Lord Norwood is my fiancé. Let him go."

  "Humph," the man said, but he released Drake, and Claresta’s supporting hands were all that kept him from tumbling backwards.

  "Go find Edwin, Martin. Tell him I need him right away."

  Drake saw the fearful expression in Claresta’s eyes. He did not think she was that good an actress, and he’d wondered if she knew the truth he’d spoken. She would have been killed if he’d not seen the motion of the crate as it was scrapped over the edge of the loft floor. The more he thought about how the crate seemed to be inched over the side, the more he suspected foul play. He knew if someone in the loft had pushed the crate over, he would be long gone by now. He chastised himself for not thinking clearly enough to go and see right away.

  "Where is that blasted cousin of yours, anyway?" he asked gruffly.

  "I’m here, my lord." Edwin’s gaze swung toward his cousin. "Claresta, are you all right? Martin said something about an accident."

  "Your cousin almost got herself killed. If anything should have happened to her, I would hold you responsible, Mr. Huntington."

  "Now see here. It is not Edwin’s fault--"

  "I want you to take your cousin home at once and see to hiring some labor to clean up this mess. What happened here, anyway?" Drake knew anger was a great antidote for fear, and he could see his words had just that effect on Claresta. He almost smiled but kept a serious countenance instead.

  "‘Tis plain as the eye can see," she said. "Fire, my lord."

  "I can see that," he said just as dryly. "Perhaps, if you’ll give your warehouse manager leave to speak, he can tell me if that was another accident, as well?"

  "Of course, my lord. I will retire to the office as is proper and let you men have your say."

  She wasn’t nearly as agreeable sounding as her words foretold, for Drake could have sworn she deliberately stomped on his foot as she turned to leave.

  He glowered at Edwin as he awaited an explanation.

  To Edwin’s credit he did not cower, in fact, a slight smile hovered around his lips as he said, "A fire, my lord. Don’t know how she started, but the whole place would have been a goner had Martin not smelled the smoke and put it out before it got a good hold."

  "Very well, then see if you can hire a couple of men off the docks to help Martin clean the mess up. I’ll escort Miss Huntington home. When you finish work for the day, come round to Cheyne Walk as soon as you can. I think we need discuss a matter regarding your cousin."

  "As you wish, my lord," Edwin said with a wide grin.

  * * *

  Drake delivered a Friday-faced Miss Huntington to her door and informed her he would pick her up at seven sharp. She bit her lip in worry, then bit her tongue to halt a refusal to accept his high-handed invitation. Instead she found herself spouting some inane remark about how much she was looking forward to meeting his family. Above all, she could not offend the lady who held such sway over the earl. It was obvious that he wanted his family’s approval, and they had a right to meet his future bride. If they should learn of her circumstances . . .

  Oh dear, oh dear, why had she not informed him she could not possibly sponsor his sister for the upcoming Season? And why, oh why, did she suddenly feel so guilty about deceiving him? She touched her lips, remembering the kiss. If only he were marrying her for love instead of money.

  She raced headlong up the staircase to her room and flung herself upon her bed and had a good cry.

  Nan found her thus upon her return from the merchant shop to find lace trim for Claresta’s gown. "What’s this? Are you ill?"

  Claresta shook her head.

  "There, there, my dear," Nan said and patted Claresta’s back. "Tell Nan what’s troubling you and maybe I can help."

  "Oh, Nan. I’m a liar, a jinx . . . a wanton."

  "So the earl kissed you, did he?"

  "How-how did you know that?" Claresta sniffed and wiped her nose on the handkerchief Nan handed her. If Nan knew all the other things the earl did besides kissing her, she would be appalled.

  "When a gel gets all misty eyed over a fellow it stands to reason he’s done something to cause it."

  "Oh, but he didn’t, I mean I’m certain he didn’t mean to kiss me at the time. It must have been because of the fright he took when the crate almost fell on him from the warehouse loft." He’d seemed just as distressed the day he’d pulled her from the lake. She tried to remember what had caused the kiss in the library at Norwood Manor, then thought, it was probably caused by the sudden engagement. Men often became overwrought when caught in the parson’s mousetrap. But, that night in her room, what had that been all about? She wasn’t so naive that she thought he’d gotten any fulfillment from what had happened between them.

  She sniffed and blew her nose, managing to hold off more tears until she told Nan the worst of it. "I don’t know what I shall do, Nan. Lord Norwood’s family has arrived, and I’m to meet them this very evening. I thought I could carry through with this charade, but now . . ." Claresta flung herself upon the bosom of her friend and cried some more.

  "Nonsense!" Nan gripped the girl by the upper arms and shook her. "You will do as you must to save Gilbert and Huntington and, therefore, the livelihood and future of this entire family. Is that not your very own words? It’s several weeks before the Season begins, by then you shall be Lady Norwood and that is that. If Lord Norwood or his family don’t know what a jewel they have gained in you, my dear, then they are not worth their salt, is what I say. And if your money doesn’t bring them about, then I’ll be a fairy princess."

  Claresta laughed. "Oh Nan, you do know how to chase off the doldrums. You are right, as ever, I must do what I must."

  "No, child, you are right."

  * * *

  When Edwin arrived in Cheyne Walk, he handed his coat and hat to the butler, turned and saw the most beautiful dark-headed lady coming down the winding staircase. She smiled broadly as she hurried down the remainder of the steps and extended her hand. "How wonderful, our first visitor."

  He bowed over the gloved hand. How he managed to keep from stuttering he did not know. "You must be Miss Francine Lockwood."

  "Yes, and you are?"

  "Mr. Edwin Huntington, at your service, ma’am."

  "Ohh, you are related to my brother’s fiancée, are you not?"

  "I am."

  "Then I suppose I must invite you to join us for dinner this evening."

  "As should all Miss Huntington’s family be present," an older version of Miss Lockwood appeared at the head of the stairs.

  "I was about to suggest the same, Mama. Come meet Edwin. He is quite dashing, is he not?"

  "You are embarrassing the young man, Franny, and it is not polite to make such remarks in front of a gentleman. Forgive my daughter, Mr. Huntington, she is acting the rustic because I refused to allow her to accept an invitation to a musicale tomorrow night since my son is unable to lend escort."

  Edwin lifted Mrs. Lockwood’s hand in his and bowed. "If you’re speaking of the do at the Linden’s, ma’am, then I’d be deli
ghted to offer my services."

  "Linden, yes that was the lady we met at Goddard’s this morning, wasn’t it, dear? You are very kind to offer, Mr. Huntington, but I do not wish to inconvenience you--"

  "Oh, do say we can go, Mama," Franny pleaded. "It is the first invitation we’ve received since our arrival in London, and it will seem terribly rude of us not to show up."

  "It will be no inconvenience for me, I assure you, Mrs. Lockwood, but an honor," Edwin said. "I daresay, I shall be the envy of every gentleman present to be in the company of two such beautiful ladies."

  "Such flummery, Mr. Huntington, may work on my daughter . . ." Mrs. Lockwood cast her glance toward Francine whose pretty lips began to form a pout. "Very well then, we shall accept your kind offer."

  Franny kissed her mother then ran up the stairs. When she reached the top tread, she turned and threw Edwin a kiss. His heart seemed to halt beating until the older lady reminded him of why he was here. "I believe my son awaits you in the study, Mr. Huntington."

  "Yes, ma’am," he said, yet his eyes were still following Francine along the upper balcony.

  "It is the first door to your left."

  "Er, yes, ma’am."

  * * *

  Edwin found Mr. Thurmond and Shipley in attendance with the earl as well. After Lord Norwood explained his concerns about Miss Huntington, the entire group was quite anxious to offer assistance. It would mean keeping an alert watch on her whereabouts at all times, day and night. That settled, Drake asked Mr. Thurmond to remain, for he had business to discuss with the solicitor.

  "As the Earl of Norwood, can I employ someone other than Mr. Denton to handle the transfer of the estates?" Drake asked.

  Mr. Thurmond rubbed his double chin as he contemplated the answer. "If he is the executor of the will, there is not much you can do. But you are certainly within your rights to have your own legal representative to look out for you interests, what? If, of course, your papers are in order? You do have proof of you are the rightful heir?"

  Drake handed over the identity papers. "Are those sufficient?"

  Thurmond read them over and cleared his throat several times before speaking. "I’m not so much in my prime these days, what? Let my dearest friend’s granddaughter down, I did. My neglect nearly caused the company he started from scratch to go to ruin."

  "Tell me about it, sir."

  And thus Drake learned all about Claresta Huntington and the company she loved so dearly she was willing to marry an unknown to save it. With a little urging, Thurmond divulged all that Claresta had gone through since her father died. He told how Baines nearly bankrupted the company; how she pulled Westhaven out of the River Tick more times than should be necessary and saw that her aunt lacked for nothing; how she took over running the company and, in spite of the prejudice against a woman in Trade, turned Gilbert and Huntington from a dying enterprise into a successful venture. Suddenly Drake knew a respect for Claresta than he’d held for only one other woman before.

  "You still want me to represent you?" Thurmond asked.

  "I do."

  Thurmond slapped his hand against his knee. A twinkle of mirth showed in his eyes as he said, "Denton will be rather miffed, what, when he learns he’s to be relieved of his commission."

  "I dare say, he shall, but I’m certain you can handle things much more to my satisfaction." Drake shook hands with Thurmond confirming his confidence in him.

  "Thank you, my lord." A mist of gratitude nearly blinded the old man as he turned to leave.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Drake was as surprised as Claresta when they arrived in the drawing room that evening to find not only her relatives, but the Chelsworths present, as well. He introduced his fiancée to his stepmother and sister and gave Druscilla a questioning look before addressing the other guests.

  "I believe you know Lord and Lady Chelsworth and their daughter, Lady Emmeline," he said to Claresta.

  When the civilities were stilted and slow coming, Druscilla, fidgeting more than usual, quickly explained, "I did not get a chance to tell you, Drake, that Lord Chelsworth stopped by to discuss a matter with you this afternoon while you were in conference with those other gentlemen. Since we know so few in London yet, I thought a neighbor to Norwood Manor would be a welcome addition to our informal celebration this evening. I especially thought it would be nice since Emmeline is of an age with Franny--er, Francine," she changed when her daughter gave her a reproachful glance.

  Francine had complained the family nickname made her sound so childlike, but her brother didn’t take the cue from her mother’s use of her formal appellation. "Franny will make lots of friends once the Season starts, but one always cherishes the first, Lady Emmeline," Drake said.

  His cordiality toward her daughter seemed to please the girl’s mother. "To get on in Town, one must have the proper connections."

  "Connections can be important," Drake said, "but I suspect good manners are equally coveted."

  "Yes, yes, indeed," Lord Chelsworth quickly agreed giving his wife a warning glance. Lord Norwood had already hinted to Lord Chelsworth there’d be no help from him on financing the enclosures on his portion of their adjoining properties if he did not put an end to his wife’s rude behavior toward Miss Huntington.

  Drake noted Francine had a most disgruntled look on her face when he stepped closer to Claresta. He wondered what his sister was piqued at him about? Perhaps because he’d called her Franny? She’d informed him earlier that day formalities were important to the English, and she so wanted to make a good impression on the nobility. When she saw Edwin’s brother was one of its members, she’d decided Lord Westhaven would be the first test for her social skills.

  She smiled at said gentleman, but he seemed more preoccupied with arranging his lace sleeves, than paying her any attention. Francine’s frown deepened when she turned to the gentleman standing on her other side.

  Edwin grinned and saluted her before he took another sip of his port. Since she’d confided in him during their turn around the garden earlier about her plans to marry a titled gentleman, he’d mocked her at every turn. But then he was probably cut from the same cloth as his cousin, Franny thought.

  She’d abandoned Edwin’s company when the Chelsworth’s arrived, since he seemed not to have an inkling of useful information about current fashions. And after what she’d just learned, there was no wonder Lord Westhaven ignored her. The poor fellow must be beside himself with concern for his cousin’s conduct.

  Francine was in a quandary. Her mother had always told her she should pay little heed to gossip. But, in this instance, she could not forget the things Lady Emmeline had confided to her about her future sister-in-law as they became acquainted in a quiet corner of the room while the others conversed about taxations and representations, or some such boring topic.

  She saw the besotted look on Drake’s face when he arrived and introduced his betrothed. Oh, she did want her brother to be happy, but couldn’t he have chosen someone more suitable? She simply must do something.

  Edwin snorted, and she whirled away from him when Miss Huntington, as if coming out of a fog, piped in a slightly distressed tone, "Celebration?"

  "Why, your engagement to my son, my dear," Druscilla said.

  There was a lot of coughing, gasping and grunts from the other guests, instead of the usual congratulations one would expect at this time.

  Claresta thought she might burst into tears when Druscilla stepped forward and kissed her cheek. "It is best wishes I believe that are due the bride. And welcome to our family, my dear."

  Francine, although a bit more reserved with her embrace, followed her mother’s example and then the rest of the guests did the obligatory thing.

  Compliments to the betrothed couple were played out-- Edwin and Aunt Ester’s, warm and sincere, but the rest held little enthusiasm. Then with the exception of Lord Chelsworth discussing the enclosures with Drake, the conversation came to a lull so often that Mrs. Lockwood appe
ared almost as relieved as Claresta when dinner was announced.

  As Drake escorted Claresta into the dining room, he leaned close and whispered, "Don’t look so blue-deviled, sweetheart, it shall be over with soon."

  When seated next to her, he reached under the table and squeezed her hand. "Everything will turn out fine," he said so only she could hear.

  Not if he knew the whole truth about her, Claresta thought. She smiled wanly, and, as their gazes locked, guilt weighed heavily upon her shoulders. Druscilla had given her an amiable welcome, but Drake’s sister continued her glower from across the table. She said, "Your family seems very nice."

  Claresta lowered her gaze to her bowl of turtle soup when her left eyelid began to twitch.

  The dinner was half over when Lady Emmeline leaned over and confided something to Francine. Drake’s sister splattered Reggie’s stiff white cravat when her wineglass slipped out of her hand and the red liquid splashed every which way.

  "Oh," she cried and jumped to her feet. For a moment she seemed nonplused on how to react, her head swiveling from guest to guest. Then as if suddenly finding a place to lay blame, she pointed a finger at Claresta, but her hostility was directed at Drake as she cried, "My Season will be ruined if you marry her. How could you?"

  "Francine! Do sit down and behave yourself." Druscilla seemed dismayed by her daughter’s outburst, but Claresta knew perfectly well what, and who, had provoked it. Lady Emmeline broke out in a smile when Francine stomped her foot.

  "I will not sit at table with a-a . . . an apeleader, a Cit’s daughter, who deals in Trade as if she were a man."

  Although, Mrs. Lockwood must have been appalled about the things thus revealed, she did an admirable job of maintaining her composure. "Then please, dear, go to your room until you are in better control of your emotions."

  "I will not go to my room!"

  Drake intervened. "That’s enough, Franny. Do as your mother told you."

  "I will not go to my room," she repeated, but with less fortitude. "Your fiancée is a jinx who casts spells upon her suitors when they did not come up to scratch."