by Wendy Vella
“And what if someone has targeted you, wants to abduct you to obtain money? Surely you can see I must protect us from that? It was you who was lured into Tuttle Lane, not me, and it is you whom they want in Liverpool. Open your eyes and see what is happening here!”
Claire ignored his words. She believed there was a child and would do whatever she could to save it.
“We do not have long, Mathew. The note said they had Anthony’s child, and they asked for me specifically because Anthony had given them my name. They will hold the child for seven days, and if after that we have not come, then he or she will be abandoned.” Claire clenched her fingers together. She did not want her brother to see them trembling. Her heart started thumping again at the prospect of her niece or nephew being left cold and alone on the streets of Liverpool. “Our blood, Mathew– yours and mine.”
“A bastard and more than likely a French bastard, at that, not that I believe it exists!”
The words were roared at her and hung in the air between them as they glared at each other. They had never spoken to each other this way before. Usually their conversations were polite and distant. But she would not be frightened by his anger, as she was angry, too.
“There is no child, Claire. No niece or nephew carrying your beloved brother’s blood. Surely, you can see this is some kind of lure to get money from us?”
Claire wouldn’t see it because she believed otherwise. There was a child. “You say you want to protect me, but what you really fear is that there will be a child, Mathew, and it will bring shame to your name.”
“If there was a child,” Mathew spat his words out in an angry volley, “I would of course acknowledge it in some way, however, there is no child, therefore, I refuse to discuss this further.”
“Some way? Surely you would acknowledge it as your niece or nephew, Mathew? This child is something that is part of our brother. Anthony deserves more than this from you, and his child deserves our protection when its father is not here to give it.”
Mathew walked in a circle around her room, pacing like a caged animal. A large hand raked continuously through his hair.
“There is no child, Claire, now I beg of you to let the matter drop. Mother is distressed, and you are making more of this mess than needs to be.”
“We are discussing a small, helpless child, Mathew, not a mess.”
His jaw was clenched so tight, she could see the taut muscles.
“You told me you would have someone look into it, at least, Mathew. Surely if the existence of the child is confirmed, you will go and collect it?”
He wouldn’t look at her, and Claire realized with dawning horror that he had lied.
“I have said my final words on this matter, Claire. Therefore you will not speak of it again.”
“Dear god, you lied to me.” Claire was suddenly filled with rage. An uncontrollable need to lash out at Mathew gripped her. “No one has been sent to Liverpool, have they? How can you do this?
“Enough! Not one more word, Claire.” Anger had him stalking towards her.
Claire rose to meet him, her rage more than equalling his. “How dare you not care for our brother’s child! You are a bloody coward, Mathew, concerned only for yourself and what others will think of the high and mighty Lord Belmont.”
“Shut up!”
“Anthony would have done this for you, were your roles reversed, Mathew. He would not have hesitated.”
His laugh was brittle as he stopped just inches from her. “Ah, but your sainted Anthony could never do any wrong in your eyes, Claire, could he?”
“He is your brother.” Claire heard the pleading in her words. “It matters not whether I believed him a saint or not–what matters is the child.” Her heart sank as she saw his expression become emotionless once more. He returned to the composed Lord Belmont. “I never thought you a hard man, Mathew, or a cruel one, but this–what you are not doing–will change everything between us.” Claire’s words were a whisper, and in them was a final, desperate plea to her big brother for him to help her, help the child.
“You always cared more for him than me, sister. I knew that, and in truth, you have been cold and distant to me since his death. I cannot see that your future behavior will be much different.”
Claire knew then she had hurt him by turning away from him when Anthony died.
“I’m sorry. I see now that my closeness to Anthony was unfair to you, but believe me, I never meant to hurt you, Mathew–”
He waved her words away. “It matters not. What matters is that I forbid any more discussions about a child that does not exist, Claire, and I will hear no more on the matter. You will go to the country tomorrow with the Duke and Duchess of Stratton, as I know they will watch over you and it will be good to remove you from London. When you return, you will not leave the house without telling me where you are going and with whom. I will know your movements every minute of every day until I’m sure that you will not put yourself in danger following this foolish hoax.” “Surely you can’t mean what you say, Mathew?” Claire stared at his unyielding face in horror.
“I mean every word. Now prepare yourself for this evening, please. We are to leave in one hour for the Duke and Duchess of Waverly’s musical evening.”
“You expect us to go out tonight after everything that has happened?”
“That is exactly what I expect, and you will be ready and looking your best at the appointed time, or I shall force you into clothing myself.”
Claire looked at the man before her. Suddenly he felt like a stranger. “I don’t even know you anymore.” Her words were a ragged whisper.
“Anymore,” he scoffed. “You never knew me.” The door slammed at his hand, and then she was alone.
Claire had no idea that the closeness between her and Anthony had upset Mathew so much. He had never seemed to care what either of them thought; he was always too busy being head of the family. Dear god, had he been lonely? Pushing aside these thoughts, she rang for her maid. She had no time now to think about Mathew, and after what she was about to do tomorrow, they would probably never speak again. Therefore there was nothing to be gained by getting herself worked up about it. He had ordered her appearance this evening, and she did not want to antagonize him further because he was still allowing her to go to Stratton, and as this was her only chance to do what she must, she would appease him until she left.
She would need to look her best, and to do that, she would need a great deal of time and careful application of face powders and such. Summoning her maid, Claire set to work. An hour later, she studied her reflection in the mirror and knew she looked as good as she could, considering the shadows beneath her eyes. Her dress was peach silk, cut wide at the neck, and rested on her shoulders, displaying more of her chest than she normally showed. The sleeves were short and fitted, as was the bodice, and a thin, matching ribbon banded tightly beneath her breasts. The skirts were light and fine and danced around her legs as she walked. Any other evening, she would simply enjoy wearing this beautiful dress, however tonight it would provide the armor she required to draw attention away from her face. Her hair was soft, with long curls teased to lie on her shoulders. She wore a gold bracelet and thin necklace but no other jewels. She had no wish to wear anything her family had given her.
She presented herself in the hallway at the time her brother stated.
“You look lovely, dear.”
Claire just nodded to her mother, who also looked lovely. Her deep rose dress was offset with rubies at her neck. Mathew looked nothing like the man who had paced around her room an hour ago. He, too, was dressed elegantly, with a waistcoat of emerald and ivory satin, a fitted black jacket, and white evening trousers.
“Claire, we must talk more about this–”
“There is a child of our blood who needs us, and you and Mathew have turned your backs on it, Mother. What more is there to say?” Damn, she had been determined not to discuss this again tonight.
“Do not use
that tone with your mother, Claire.” Mathew took her arm as he spoke.
She had to try once more to reason with him. “I’m sorry, Mathew, more sorry than I can say if Anthony and I hurt you with our closeness but surely-”
“Leave it alone, Claire.”
Mathew’s words were a low growl, but she was not deterred. She had to plead with him to send someone to Liverpool, before she was forced to take action herself.
“I’m begging you to send someone to Liverpool, Mathew-”
“Be quiet!” The roared words echoed through the hallway. “Not one more word do you hear me?”
His fingers bit into her arm as he spoke, but she shook him free as anger flooded through her once more. “Go to hell.”
Ignoring her mother’s outraged gasp, Claire sailed out the front door, where Plimley awaited with an umbrella. She gave him a brief smile and then walked with him to the carriage. “Thank you, Plimley.”
He knew better than to comment upon what he had just witnessed; after all, he was the family butler. Indeed, all he said was, “Enjoy your evening, Miss Belmont.”
Claire swallowed the swell of hysterical laughter. There would be no enjoyment tonight; the evening would be an exercise in survival and nothing more. She would smile, talk, and dance, then she would return to her room and work through her plan once more.
“Claire, I cannot believe you spoke to your brother in such an insulting manner. It is not like you to be so vulgar. Mathew is simply trying to do what is best for the family,” Lady Belmont said as they entered the carriage.
“You are as much a coward as your son, Mother, and I have no wish to discuss this further. And I will not apologize for saying what I did. It is obvious I have no hand in any decision that is to be made about Anthony’s child. Therefore, please do not bring the matter up again.”
“Claire–”
“Leave it, Mother. Perhaps one day she will grow up,” Mathew said.
Clenching her hands into fists, Claire forced her nails into the palms of her hands. It wasn’t overly painful, as she was wearing gloves, but the small sting helped her to focus. Nothing further would be gained by continuing this discussion with either her mother or Mathew. Therefore her best course of action was to keep quiet. Thankfully, her mother followed her lead. However Claire could feel her eyes on the back of her head as she stared out the window until they reached their destination.
The Belmonts walked into the ball with smiles on their faces. If anyone had looked closely, they would have seen the strain on each, yet no one looked closely; the façade was all that mattered on occasions such as these. There was too much noise for meaningful conversation.
“I shall be with my friends.”
Claire ignored her mother but heard Mathew murmur something she did not catch. Walking with no destination in mind, Claire hoped she could find someone to sit with who was as far away from her family as possible.
Chairs were set in rows before the stage, where a piano awaited a player. Behind it were a large vase of flowers, several candelabras, and a black curtain. The night would be long, but at least she could sit quietly for most of it and pretend to listen to whomever performed.
“Lord Belmont, it is a pleasure to see you again. Why, Mary was just asking after you. And Miss Belmont is here with you also.”
Claire had not realized Mathew was still at her back until she felt him move to her side.
“Lady Blake, it is a pleasure to see you again also,” Mathew said, bowing deeply before the prune-faced woman. Claire had always loathed her and wasn’t overly enamored with her daughters, either.
“Lady Blake.” Claire moved closer to her brother’s side. She may not have liked him very much at that moment, but he was still her blood, and although her future would probably not hold him in it, she would not see him shackled to one of the Blake sisters.
“Miss Belmont, that is a rather…dashing dress.”
Claire held still with a bored expression on her face as Lady Blake looked her over with a curl to her lips. The woman had gall–she’d give her that–especially as she herself usually wore gowns so low-cut, most people held their breath when she leant forward. “Why, thank you, my lady. Coming from an arbiter of fashion such as yourself, that is a compliment indeed.”
“Lord Belmont, I declare my evening is now complete. Mother, shame on you for monopolizing the most handsome man in the room.” Lavinia Blake pushed in front of her mother to give Mathew a suggestive smile followed by a little giggle that made her exposed breasts wiggle. She was the nastiest of the three Blake sisters, probably as she was the oldest and had sharpened her claws longer than the other two. She gave Claire’s gown a dismissive glance, then returned her gaze to Mathew. Her eyes narrowed as she calculated how best to capture his attention. “I have heard there may be dancing later, my lord. I hope you will partner me at least once, if not twice.”
In the normal course of an evening, Claire would simply dismiss Lavinia Blake’s forward behavior. She would usually just shrug and offer the girl a platitude, then move on to someone who did not annoy her quite as much. However since her brother had informed her they would not be going to Liverpool for Anthony’s child, she had been seething with unsuppressed rage. Unfortunately for the foolish girl, Claire needed an outlet for some of that anger, and she was about to be the recipient.
“But surely to dance twice would cause speculation for a debutante, Miss Blake.” Claire smiled but not sweetly. “A lady such as you, barely out in society, should not risk censure from those of us who are more experienced.” Leaning forward in what appeared to be a friendly manner, she then tapped the girl’s hand, and she was fairly sure her eyes shot flames as Lavinia Blake stepped back onto her mother’s foot. “Furthermore, Miss Blake, the man should always do the soliciting, and it is remiss of your mother not to point this out to you.” She then nodded into the stunned faces of the Blake women before turning to her brother. “Mathew, I need you to accompany me now, if you please. There is a matter I wish to discuss with Lord Kelkirk, and I think it will be of interest to you.”
Claire felt her brother’s eyes rest briefly on her face as she finished speaking, and then he bowed to the Blake ladies. “Excuse me, ladies. My sister needs me.”
They walked in silence through the throng until the Blake women were out of sight. Only then did Claire stop.
“Thank you.”
She didn’t pretend not to understand what Mathew was thanking her for.
“I have no wish to share a dinner table with that woman ever in my life. Therefore what I did was as much for my benefit as yours. Good evening, my lord,” she then added, and, turning her back on him, she walked away without a backward glance.
“Belmont, come and join us. Major Brantley is giving a detailed and riveting accounting of his daughter’s latest equestrian achievements.”
Simon had noticed Claire’s brother standing very still, watching his sister walk away from him. His stance upright, his fists clenched, Mathew Belmont looked angry as he followed Claire with his eyes, and Simon wondered what she had said to make him feel that way. When he had visited them only a few days ago, Claire and her brother had seemed comfortable with each other, so he was all the more intrigued as to what had produced that reaction in the man.
“Lord Kelkirk.” Belmont gave him and the others in his small group an elegant bow.
The major started into another long and detailed monologue of his daughter’s exploits, which involved a lot of gesturing and horse terms.
“If you smile and nod at intervals, he doesn’t notice you’re not listening,” Simon whispered to Mathew. “I am almost looking forward to the music starting just to shut him up.”
Lord Belmont blew out a short breath, then nodded. “He’s certainly an old windbag, yet harmless enough, I’m sure.”
“You actually have more reasons than he to brag, Belmont. Your sister is the superior rider.” Simon watched Mathew look down at his hands before answering.
“Yes, she has an excellent seat.”
His voice held no inflection. Simon didn’t know him that well, but he knew when a man was in the grip of some deep emotion, and Belmont was displaying all the signs of trying not to show it, especially as he had failed to meet Simon’s eyes.
“I can’t imagine she can have been easy to control growing up. She has definitely held me to task a time or two,” Simon said, deciding to prod him a bit for a response.
Mathew looked at him then, and Simon saw that mixed with the anger was sadness. His eyes were green, unlike his sister’s, yet in the face, he saw Claire. They shared high cheekbones and long lashes, and perhaps there was something around the mouth. “To my lasting regret, I did not have much to do with my sister growing up, Lord Kelkirk.”
“I believe there is quite an age gap.”
“Six years.”
The silence that stretched between them then was not uncomfortable, as Belmont was lost in his thoughts and seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.
“We are being called to our seats, Belmont,” Simon said finally, gently drawing the man back to the present.
“Of course. Please excuse me.”
What the hell had that been about? he wondered as Mathew Belmont walked away without another word. The unease he had felt since finding Claire in that lane intensified. Something was very wrong in the Belmont household. He just needed to find out what.
“Kelkirk, my daughter has often expressed her interest in your seat and hands, says they are some of the finest in London.”
Looking at Major Brantley, Simon swallowed his smile. He could take that statement in many ways, yet knew that the man was not deliberately lacing his words with innuendo. However he also knew that Brantley was looking for a husband for his daughter, and whilst Simon was not averse to the married state, he was averse to a woman who judged her men by then length of their hocks and strength of their seat.
“Well, lovely speaking with you, Major, and please give my regards to your charming daughter, but I must away, as the music is due to start.”
He found Claire, but the seats to her left and right were taken, so he sat in the one behind. “Good evening, Miss Belmont.”