by Irene Estep
Drake scraped back his chair and stood. "I said enough! Don’t make this into a war between us, Franny."
She glared at Drake for a moment then burst into tears as she ran out the doorway leading into the garden.
Druscilla looked apprehensively after her daughter. "Perhaps I should see--"
"Allow me," Edwin said and threw down his napkin as he stood and followed the acid-tongued filly into the garden.
There was another round of coughing, gasping and grunting, with the exceptions of Lady Chelsworth and Lady Emmeline who both looked very like cats who just licked the cream bowl clean, and Lord Westhaven, who in spite of his stained clothing, wore a grin that nearly split his ears.
Other than wanting to crawl beneath the table and hide, Claresta felt rather relieved to have everything out in the open. Not for the first time, she pondered why the Chelsworth’s had missed the opportunity to tell Drake all about her crimson record when they were at Norwood Manor. Had he developed such a tendre for her that he refused to listen to the Chelsworth’s damning tales? Claresta stifled a deep sigh.
Nonetheless, she knew now that his family was present, Drake would place their feelings above his own. And she must have been mistaken about tender feelings on his part, for he wouldn’t even look at her now as he dug his fork into his food with great interest. Lord Chelsworth then asked him about last years’ wheat yield at Oakcrest, and the conversation began to buzz once more.
Claresta, fearing her stomach would rebel if she took another bite, rearranged the food on her plate, as the others picked up polite conversation around her. Mrs. Lockwood and Aunt Ester tried to include Claresta in a discussion of fashion, but a nod of agreement from time to time seemed all they required from her. Reggie and Lady Emmeline who’d never shown a great deal of interest in each other before, now kept up a whispered tête-à-tête. Claresta figured she was the cause of their sudden camaraderie. If only, she thought wistfully, Mrs. Lockwood and her daughter had not arrived until after . . .
Well, no matter, she knew from past experience, fate certainly had a way of slapping one in the face when one was already down. She discretely drank in what might be her last sight of Drake’s handsome profile. The man she’d first thought a bumpkin turned out to be intelligent and sincere. The most perfect specimen of man she’d ever known. She loved him, she realized, and she could not even put a precise place or time the event occurred. A day ago? A month? Somehow, it seemed she’d loved him forever.
She became envious of the fork his long fingers wrapped around, and remembered the pleasure those same digits had given her. When his full, firm lips parted to receive the fork’s offering, she thought of that first kiss by the lake. No one had ever kissed her that way before, with lips opened, tongue plundering inside her mouth. She’d thought it the most intimate thing a man could do to a woman until the next night when he came into her room and. . .
She picked up her wineglass and took a large swallow, hoping no one noticed the heat rising in her face. Drake took that moment to turn his attention on her, and an intimate, knowing smile spread across his face. His gaze locked with hers, and sparks of light dance in his beautiful eyes. He knew. Somehow, she knew he knew what she’d been thinking, and he didn’t seem displeased with her in the least. Her heart began to thrum inside her chest. All kinds of possibilities formed inside her head. Could he possibly forgive her for her deceit? Could he overlook her dealings in Trade? The stigma of jinx attached to her name by the ton?
Lord Chelsworth spoke to him again, and he turned away. Claresta sat down her wineglass and decided it would do her no good to fantasize about their past or their future. Drake did not know the full extent of her fouled reputation yet. How would Lord Norwood break the engagement? she wondered.
He would be tactful, of course, wait until all the other guests were gone, then ask her to step into the library for a private word. Or, perhaps he’d wait until he’d delivered her home. That way, should she have a fit of histrionics, he could be shut of her more quickly. As it turned out, Mrs. Lockwood was the one to ask for a private word with her after the gentlemen were left to their port and politics.
* * *
Out in the garden, Francine, sitting beside Edwin on a stone bench, was making good use of his shoulder. He gave her his handkerchief and told her, "Dry up. Tears will make your eyes and nose look like raw meat."
She quickly took his advice and sniffed only a couple of times more before thanking him for the use of his handkerchief. She felt somewhat embarrassed for making a spectacle of herself. What if her brother really was in love with the lady? She would simply die if he chose Miss Huntington over her.
"Keep it," he said, when she tried to give the handkerchief back to him.
"Are you much put out with me then for nay-saying your cousin?" she said, giving him a coquettish glance beneath dark lashes.
Edwin sucked in his breath. At any other time, he would be easily swayed by Francine’s coyness. But his cousin, Claresta, had been too good to him and his family, and his devotion to her ran deep. "Very much so."
"Ohh. But surely you cannot endorse Miss Huntington’s careless behavior? Why, Lord Westhaven must be simply appalled by what his cousin has been up to."
"Appalled? I daresay, he is, for he is almost as spoiled and selfish as you." He spoke from the heart.
She drew her sharp little chin up and declared, "You are a cad, sir."
"And you are a tartar," Edwin countered.
"Toad!"
"Fool," he whispered and kissed her solidly to allay another verbal attack.
* * *
In the library, Mrs. Lockwood poured a measure of brandy into two glasses. Claresta sat on the edge of the wing chair opposite from the sofa where the lady sat down.
Druscilla sipped her brandy and said, "Drink up, my dear, for the questions I am about to ask you, you will probably not wish to provide answers."
Claresta sat the glass down on the shiny tabletop and folded her hands tightly in her lap. "You cannot ask anything that would make me feel worse than I already do, Mrs. Lockwood."
"I do apologize for my daughter’s behavior, my dear."
"It is the way of the young to be overly dramatic at times, is it not? And . . . perhaps she does have reason to be concerned for her future."
Druscilla leaned back and sighed. "That is what I’ve come to suspect from the reticence toward you from my guests this evening. And apparently one of them revealed something to my daughter that has upset her to no end. Since I seem to be the only one who knows nothing about what is going on, perhaps you’d better enlighten me."
"You will hate me above all when you hear it," Claresta said with dread.
"Surely it could not be as bad as that, Miss Huntington."
Claresta decided to unburden herself. She told Mrs. Lockwood everything, sparing herself no disparagement.
When she finished, Mrs. Lockwood sat quietly for so long, Claresta wondered if she should just get up and leave. Finally the lady sighed once more and said, "I fear, I must deal with this situation rather bluntly, Miss Huntington. In case you have not found out for yourself by now, I’ll tell you there are two things that my son holds dear to his heart. One is respect, and the other is honesty."
Claresta bowed her head. "I know," she whispered softly. "And I suppose you must think rather poorly of me, as well."
"Not I, Claresta. Might I call you Claresta? I feel under any other circumstances, you and I would become fast friends."
Claresta didn’t know what to make of that statement. She gave a cursory nod of approval, and the lady continued, "I know what it is for a woman to have to use every avenue available to her to survive in this world of masculine dominance."
Filled with curiosity, Claresta asked, "You, ma’am?"
"When my father died penniless, it was either marry or become a servant. I could have done the latter, if I’d possessed a bit of your fortitude perhaps. I do admire you, my dear, but regardless of my personal
feelings toward you, I do not believe you are right for my stepson."
Blunt. Yes the lady certainly had come right out with it and with such diplomacy, Claresta thought. In one breath Mrs. Lockwood had admitted to admiring her, as well as rejecting her as not being good enough to become a member of her family. But, Claresta thought, hadn’t she already admitted as much to herself? Drake could make a much better match.
A deep-set feeling of hurt weighed on Claresta’s chest. She glanced at the shabby curtains, the faded wallpaper and furniture. There was a possibility she could still change the lady’s mind. "Perhaps you do not know, Mrs. Lockwood, of the settlement agreement I made with Lord Norwood. There is a clause that will provide him with adequate funds to restore his estates and make his holdings at Norwood Manor a profitable enterprise."
Druscilla looked at Claresta for a moment as if she had grown an extra ear, then she burst out laughing. "I can see you are not the only one who has been less than revealing about your circumstances."
Claresta frowned. "I do not understand your meaning, madam."
"Oh do forgive my outburst, it was rather rude of me. But, if you are worried about how Drake will finance repairs and such on this house or Norwood Manor, then you fret for naught, my dear. He can well afford to do so. His maternal grandfather left him quite a fortune, as well as a lucrative shipping enterprise. Sheffield, I am sure you must have heard of it."
"Yes," Claresta said quietly. Not only had she heard of it, but she had also done business with the company from America just a few weeks ago, the same day she’d walked into the Boar Bristle Inn and saved Drake from being sent to gaol. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she didn’t know if it were from being made a fool of or because the lady could not seem to stop laughing at her expense.
"Oh, forgive me," Mrs. Lockwood said again and sobered. "You are apparently a very generous person, Miss Huntington, and I should not be laughing at this very serious moment."
Claresta felt a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. She would rather suffer the lady’s ridicule than to have her turn condescending.
Mrs. Lockwood continued, "That is something that the two of you do have in common. Drake is always ready to lend a helping hand. No doubt, he decided to sign your paper as soon as he learned you needed his help. But, you do not strike me as the type to accept sympathy in any form."
They had only just met, but the lady seemed to know all there was to know about her. An acerbic comment sprang off her tongue without thought. "I suppose Drake’s father was struck by the generous spirit when he offered for you, or did he hold you in such high esteem he could not do otherwise?"
Claresta immediately wished she could take back her scornful words when she saw a brief flash of pain in the lady’s eyes.
"Esteem? Quentin alluded to the notion before the knot was tied," she said in a reflective voice. "He could be quite charming when he wished. But it did not take long for him to bare his true colors. No, he did not love me, and made no bones about telling me so, and he was kind to our children, more so, I think, to expose Drake to the contrast of his affections. To my knowledge, he never showed anything but contempt for Drake. In spite of my stepson’s act of indifference, I believe he suffered a great deal from his father’s lack of affection."
Claresta lifted the brandy glass and took a large gulp. She coughed and with trembling hands returned the glass to the table. "How could a man not love his own son?"
"I do not know. Perhaps Quentin’s ability to love died with Drake’s mother. For some reason he blamed Drake for her drowning. How one could have placed such a burden on a two year old is beyond reason." She sighed. "Drake naturally rebelled against his father by being disobedient and it was always tit for tat between the two."
"It must have been difficult living with such a cold-hearted person."
"As I said, Quentin was quite persuasive when he wanted. Most of Kent County believed him to be a fine upstanding citizen, which his actions made undeniable. He was a major landowner, a leader of the community, charitable to his servants, always willing to lend a helping hand to his neighbor. Consequently, everyone treated Drake with the same disdain his father showed him. Of course, you cannot fault them, when Drake’s defiance made him scrap with the local boys at every turn. When Quentin passed away, Drake was sixteen, still a boy. But he settled down and began running Oakcrest better than his father had, even knowing it had been left to his younger brother. I think he relished the chance to prove his father wrong. I suppose the way he’d seen his father conduct himself is partly why Drake demands forthrightness from those around him. Through hard work and the caring way he looked after his family, he gained respect from every single person who’d previously treated him with scorn.
"I tell you all this, Miss Huntington, because I want you to understand how important having a good name in Society is to Drake."
"I wish I could undo the harm I may have already caused him," Claresta said with regret. Why could Denton have not located Drake five years ago when the previous earl passed on and left his estate for his next of kin, when Claresta was still a respected member of Society. If he had come to England then, things might have turned out differently.
"You are in love with him, then," Mrs. Lockwood guessed. "That makes things a bit more difficult, to be sure."
"I understand," Claresta said quietly. She realized what Mrs. Lockwood said was true, Drake probably accepted her proposal because he knew how much it meant to her. She couldn’t even maintain her anger at him for breaking his own rule of forthrightness by allowing her to believe he needed her money. But did he? She couldn’t remember one instance when he’d said he would be using her funds for anything. As always, Claresta made a decision without hesitating.
"Lord Norwood is too honorable to break the engagement himself. If it is to be done, then it must come from me. Be assured this matter shall be settled before the evening is over, Mrs. Lockwood."
"I wish it could be otherwise, my dear."
"I know, and I thank you for that." Claresta got up and kissed her almost mother-in-law on the cheek and, although her spirits were low, she walked out of the library with her head held high.
* * *
In the music room Lady Emmeline pounded out an unrecognizable tune on the pianoforte. Edwin and Francine were sitting together on the sofa. When he saw Claresta enter, her cousin patted the seat next to him, silently offering her a place to sit. She waited until the piece was finished and while there was a smattering of applause, without glancing left or right, she started across the room. But her arm was trapped in a strong hand as she passed Lord Norwood. He leaned down and whispered, "I wish a word with you. Let’s take a walk in the garden."
Claresta’s heart settled somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. He was going to cry craven after all. Well, it would save her the trouble.
As they left, Francine took her seat at the pianoforte and struck up a tender tune. To Claresta’s surprise Drake swept her into his arms and began waltzing her across the cobbled walkway. Why was he being so gentle with her? she wondered.
He danced her through the open doors of the empty conservatory to the left wing of the manor. Then, he stopped moving, and his lips descended onto hers. She could not have resisted if her life depended upon it. As he kissed her breathless, she had a vision of the room filled with colorful, scented flowers.
She returned his ardor with all the pent-up feelings of love she possessed for him. Knowing it would be the last time she would know the warm touch of his lips upon hers, she slid her arms tightly around his neck and pulled him closer. Who could fault her for indulging in this final farewell? Finally, she came to her senses and twisted her head away. "My lord, you mustn’t."
"And why mustn’t I?" Drake said teasingly. "You are soon to be my wife, and I warn you I shall take liberties from time to time."
Claresta’s protest died on her lips as his head lowered toward hers once more. She gloried in the feel of his tongue ravishing her mouth. She
’d never been kissed thus by anyone else and knew she never would be again after tonight. She allowed it to go on for several minutes before she again pulled away. "This-this is all very well and good, but there is something I have to say, sir. Under the circumstances, I fear I must call off our engagement."
Drake chuckled. "And I fear I must call it back on again."
He tried to kiss her again, but she moved out of his reach. He did not seem to be taking her seriously. "Please, sir. You are making this extremely difficult. I--"
Claresta saw the shadowed figure with a pistol raised in his hand snake around the entrance from the garden. She cried out. Drake moved quickly, and once again she found herself shoved to the floor, Lord Norwood sprawled across her body. A loud retort sounded at the same time, but it was a moment before she realized Drake had been shot. Blood oozed from the side of his head.
She pushed him to her side, dug his handkerchief out of his coat pocket and pressed it against the wound. She realized the others must not have heard the shot, since she could faintly hear singing from the music room. She yelled, "Someone, please help me." But still there was no response.
She jumped up, yanked the bell rope, then rushed back to cradle Drake’s head across her lap. The blood flow was only a trickle now, but still he did not open his eyes, and she worried that he’d been fatally wounded. "I do love you, Drake Lockwood. If you die on me, I’ll never forgive you."
Relief flowed though her when Drake blinked, then examined his injury with his hand and said, "Don’t worry, my love. I was dazed for a minute, but it appears to be only a flesh wound."
Since she could not think what else to do, she leaned down and kissed him instead. "Are you sure you’re all right?"
Before he could answer, the door opened, and the butler said, "You rang-- Oh dear, dear me. Shall I send someone for a doctor?"
"Yes." "No." Claresta and Drake replied at the same time.
Claresta won out, and hearing the commotion in the hallway as the butler cried out for assistance, the rest of the group hurried into the room.