The Blackmailed Beauty

by Ilene Withers

  “Do you mean Lord Wellburn?” he asked politely.

  “Yes, thank you!” Willa said, “I do swear I am so empty headed at times.”

  “Lord Wellburn,” was the whispered name this time. Again, the fan snapped open to reveal another name in neat hand written on a slender slat, and the fan snapped shut again.

  So it went for the remainder of the evening. Mr. Adam Styles. Lord Shipley. Mr. Garrick Hartley. Lord Fulton. Lord Bancroft. When the fan slats were full, the names were written in closer to the tip, and later in tiny writing on the handle.

  During one break, Claire leaned toward her cousin. “At least the duke and the earl have not shown,” she pointed out.

  “I noticed so, as well,” Willa said. “Willard must have done a good job.”

  “Yes. I’ve been thinking,” Claire said, “perhaps we should give him some money now. His poor mother might be in dire need.”

  “I agree,” Willa said. “I’ve some pin money stashed.”

  “As have I,” Claire said. “It might not be much, but if we combine what we can it will surely go to good use.”

  Willa smiled at her. There were times Claire was a typical vicar’s daughter and Willa felt sure these same traits – kindness toward others, concern for the well-being of all, a softness of heart – were the exact same traits which would make her an exceptional duchess. Indeed, Willa was sure her cousin would outrank her not far in the future, for Willa had seen the love in Lamberton’s eyes the night Claire had kissed the earl.

  After they had returned home and the girls had reached their chambers, Willa followed her cousin into her room. “Now we have the names,” Willa said, “how do we investigate as to whether they are the man we seek?”

  “We could ask your father,” Claire suggested.

  “No, he is too old to know all the younger men,” Willa said, already having dismissed him. “And he might get awfully suspicious. You see, I did confide in Father earlier on about my concerns, and he dismissed it easily enough then. However, I’m afraid he won’t a second time.”

  “What did you tell him?” Claire asked.

  “Only about the night at Almack’s when you refused to dance with the duke. And how, afterward, the duke punched a pillar and then left the building in quite a hurry.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes, don’t you remember?” Willa said. “It caused quite a stir. It was the night before he left town. Papa found him in White’s. Apparently, he got quite drunk and Papa saw to it his servants carried him home that night.”

  “I hurt him then, but I was so busy worrying about myself I did not pay attention to what everyone was saying,” Claire said, anguish in her voice.

  “I’m sorry I brought it up,” Willa said, “I did not intend to make you feel bad.”

  “I know,” Claire said. “I think of it myself even if you do not mention it.”

  “You can’t worry yourself about it,” Willa said. “We’ll have to hope it will soon be over for you. What do you think about asking the earl or duke?”

  Claire thought a moment. “They might be a better choice,” she agreed. “I have no other ideas. How will we get to see them for sure, though?” she asked.

  Molly entered the room just then and Willa winked at Claire. “Molly,” she said turning to face the young maid, “could you make sure Willard attends us in the morning?”

  “Of course, Miss,” Molly answered.

  ****

  “We’ve been stymied,” the earl said. “Just how did you find out the ladies were to be here tonight?” he asked Noel.

  “My valet finds out, and Knox is never wrong. They must be here somewhere.”

  “Do you see the empty box across the way,” John asked.

  “Yes,” Noel replied patiently, “and I know it is Amhearst’s box. And yes, it is empty.”

  “Good,” John replied. “And here I was afraid love had changed your brain to mush.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Noel suggested. “Perhaps we should drop by their home and find out where they are.”

  The butler remembered His Grace well. Looking discreetly at Noel’s pocket, he cleared his throat, “I don’t quite remember yet, Your Grace. However, I’m sure I could remember with a bit of help.”

  Noel flipped the old man a coin.

  “This is Wednesday and they are at Almack’s, Your Grace.”

  After the door had shut behind them, Noel turned to John. “It’s amazing how the old codger gets his memory back so quickly, is it not?”

  John laughed. “Your Knox is slipping up,” he said. “Perhaps it is his memory which has gone.”

  Noel instructed the driver to take them to Almack’s, although he feared they were too late. “What time is it?” he asked his friend.

  “After eleven I would say,” John replied.

  “We won’t get in,” Noel said.

  John groaned. “You’re right. There is no use even trying.”

  “Let us attempt it anyway,” Noel replied.

  Indeed, the doorman refused their entrance, and even when they begged he ask the Lady Patronesses, they did not succeed.

  With no other plans, they went to Whites and whiled away an hour or two over chess before they called it a night.

  Noel awoke to a racket. He peered over to see Knox literally banging around the coffee service.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Knox turned toward Noel, obviously schooling his face to appear innocent. “Are you awake, Your Grace?” he asked.

  “You know I am. You’re getting pretty cheeky in your old age.” Noel caught a quick glance of the valet’s smug smile.

  “I thought you might like to know, Your Grace, how a certain two young ladies are planning an outing to the park today. They thought to go a bit earlier than is fashionable.”

  “You told me they were going to the opera last night, and they didn’t,” Noel said.

  “Yes, well, I did hear that, and I put my contact to task over it. I was told he is now getting his information directly from the two young ladies themselves and not through the servant network.”

  “In other words, they are yanking our chains.” Noel sat up in bed. “Those two chits are getting John and me to be at their beck and call.”

  “It would seem so, Your Grace. I take it, then, you will not be going to the park today.”

  “Of course, I’m going to the park. I’m hoping to be married, Knox, so I may as well get used to the idea of being at Miss Stuart’s beck and call.”

  “I understand, Your Grace.” Noel didn’t miss the small lifting at the corners of Knox’s mouth. “If this is the case, Your Grace, you may like to know they have no escort.”

  “What?”

  “I believe, Your Grace, they are being so forward as to ask you and Lord Roydon to escort them to the park.”

  Noel laughed. “I can already feel the noose tightening,” he said fondly.

  Noel immediately wrote two notes. Calling a footman, he sent one to John and one around to the Amhearst residence. “And have the landau ordered ready for two of the clock,” he said before shutting the door and stepping into his freshly poured bath.

  So it was at precisely two o’clock in the afternoon, a team of horses pulled the duke’s landau to a stop in front of Viscount Amhearst’s home. John waited near the landau and Noel rapped smartly on the door, grinning at the butler.

  “What will it cost me to find out the whereabouts of Miss Dutton and Miss Stuart?” he asked the man.

  “Your Grace!” Claire’s husky voice sounded from within, and Noel looked up to see the two beauties sail gracefully down the stairs and out onto the step. Dressed in blue and pink respectively, Miss Stuart and Miss Dutton twirled their parasols and neatly stepped into the landau with little assistance.

  Noel watched as Claire took the rear facing seat, and Miss Dutton the fore facing. “Do sit here beside me, Lord Roydon,” Miss Dutton said coquettishly as she patted the leather seat next to her. />
  John needed no further invitation. He jumped up and settled in. “You ladies appear to be in fine fettle today,” he commented.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Claire replied, “isn’t it, Your Grace?” The smile she gave Noel healed every wound his heart had experienced at her small hands. And in her eyes, he saw a plea for understanding. He could have offered nothing less.

  “The finest in forever,” he replied, losing himself in those eyes. Noel brazenly slid his arm along the back of the seat. He did not touch her, but he was so close his fingers itched with the wanting.

  The driver moved them away from the curb and they were soon on their way to the park. It was blessedly quiet, being as it was before the most fashionable hour.

  Miss Dutton made a comment or two about the scenery and then pointed out a horseman some distance away. “Isn’t he Viscount Marley?” she asked the earl.

  “You must have good eyes,” he teased in return. “We are much too far away for me to see, but I do doubt it. Marley is known for good horseflesh and don’t you believe the nag to be barely adequate?”

  “Now that you mention it, the beast is sway backed and has a roman nose,” she pointed out.

  “Hmmm,” the earl said, his eyes more on Miss Dutton than on the far away horse.

  “He is a fan of my father’s, I believe,” she said.

  “I do hope you are not getting any ideas about him,” the earl said. “I have heard he may have an agreement with Lord Durward’s daughter already.”

  Willa faced the earl. “I do hope so,” she said. “Miss Natalie is quite dear.”

  Already having taken the plunge, Noel recognized the look on his friend’s face as John watched Miss Dutton smile. Beside him, Claire shifted a bit until she was almost facing him. He drew in a sharp breath when her knee touched his. And then, she snapped open a delicate looking fan, waving it flirtatiously in front of her face for just a moment before she snapped it closed again.

  “Willa, you are such a goose,” Claire reprimanded her cousin. “He could not be Viscount Marley, for I am sure it is Mr. Nathaniel Thurston. You do remember him don’t you?”

  Miss Dutton appeared thoughtful. “I’m afraid not.”

  Claire smiled up broadly at Noel and patted him playfully on the arm with her fan. “Do tell her, Your Grace. I’m sure you know him much better than I.” And then she leaned against the back of the seat until his fingers brushed her shoulder lightly.

  Noel cleared his throat and moved his left arm to tug at his cravat. No wonder his Mama was after him about it. As long as Miss Stuart was near, he would never have a neat knot again. “Um,” he began foolishly, “Mr. Thurston is the youngest son of Lord Tilton. He is a bit of a scholar, I believe, and is going into the church.”

  “See, I told you, Willa,” Claire remarked. “A scholarly sort of religious man would ride just such a nag.”

  “Speaking of nags,” Willa said. “Have either of you seen the horse Lord Wellburn is riding now. I was most impressed.”

  The men looked at each other with raised eyebrows. “How odd,” Noel answered, “last I was aware he rode a broke down roan.”

  “Well, he’s probably been to auction.”

  “But I wonder how,” John remarked. “His pockets are usually to let. I believe his father is purchasing him his colors. Hopes the military will settle down his gambling habits a bit.”

  The ride continued in just such a fashion. Noel's head was whirling by the time they had traveled much further, and John appeared confused as well. The ladies continually introduced one name after the other into the conversation. Mr. Adam Styles! What did he have to do with anything? And why did they even care about Lord Bancroft? Noel began to be suspicious when Claire kept opening her fan, and even occasionally passing it across to her cousin, who then opened it to fan herself. Each time the fan snapped open a new name came into the conversation.

  Finally, he had to know. He reached over and broke every etiquette rule in the book by firmly taking his beloved Claire’s hand in his, removing the fan from her wrist, and casually opening it.

  He was flabbergasted. On each tiny slat were two or three gentlemen’s names, neatly written in a fine hand. He silently passed it to John and then turned back to Claire. Taking her chin gently in his hand and turning her to look him squarely in the eye, Noel asked, “What is going on?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Claire could not help but lose herself in those dark eyes. It was time to tell the truth. All of the people who needed to hear it were right here. If she ever wanted a future with the duke, if one was at all possible, she had to let him in on her secret here and now. And the earl deserved to know it, as well, for it had affected his life in the worst of ways.

  Searching the duke’s face, she closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and then began.

  “I am being blackmailed,” she whispered.

  “What?” both the duke and the earl shouted at once.

  “Shh,” Miss Dutton interjected. “Please let her tell you.”

  The duke swung back to Claire. “Yes, please, do go on. I promise to control my outbursts,” he said with a tender smile.

  Claire began again. “I’m being blackmailed by Lady Regina Norton.” And then she could not go on. The look in the duke’s eyes was her undoing. There was pity, and sadness, and love all mingled. Yes, love. She was sure it was there. Taking a deep breath, she decided to concentrate on the look of love.

  “What is she asking of you?” His voice was quiet but steady.

  Here Claire turned toward Lord Roydon. “I am to marry you, my lord, or face utter ruin.”

  Lord Roydon leaned ahead in his chair. “So that is why…?”

  He didn’t finish. Willa firmly, but kindly, pushed him back in his seat. “Please listen,” she begged the men. “I am aware now there is more; there is much more.” Then she leaned across, taking Claire’s hand in her own and squeezing it gently. “Be strong, Claire,” she said softly. “I believe it is right for you to tell them. We both know we can’t handle this alone. Go ahead and tell them… everything.” As she dropped Claire’s hand and leaned back, Claire could see tears in her cousin’s eyes, but there was strength there, a determination she drew from, and she turned back to the duke.

  “The day before you came to the church I was in the cemetery, and I thought I was alone. My parents were gone, and I had taken a walk. Lady Regina’s brother, Viscount Pitt, found me there and he—” she faltered when she saw the duke’s eyes darken, and she turned back toward Willa. Seeing Willa’s almost imperceptible nod, Claire continued, “—he attacked me. I’m sure, now, he meant to r-r-rape me.” Thunder appeared on the duke’s face, and she could tell every muscle in his body was tight. She reached out, tentatively, and touched his cheek with the lightest touch before she let her hand flutter to her lap. His hand, stretched behind her, moved to clasp her shoulder and she went on.

  “I kicked him,” she said. “In… well, in the place my father told me to kick a man. I got away from him, and I ran home.”

  She had seen a grimace cross his face, and then his face filled with pride.

  “The bruise?” he asked. “The day we came to the church you had a bruise right here,” he reached up and caressed her cheek. “Had he hit you?”

  “Yes, but the bruise was from my face hitting a tree trunk,” she said.

  “What had he done to you before you escaped?” the duke asked, his voice hoarse with needing to know.

  “He, he kissed me three times and he ripped my dress here,” she waved her fingers toward her bodice, “and, and he started to touch me there. He scared me. Mostly he scared me and made me feel dirty.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she finished. “That’s all.”

  The duke sat back. “I’m going to kill him,” he said. “I’m going to bloody well kill him,” he spat out between clenched teeth.

  “No, please,” Claire begged. “Please don’t. Let me finish telling you.”

  This seeme
d to draw him back, and she started once more. “The day you came, both of you, to the church, Lady Regina asked me to go outside. I had dropped my shawl, you see, during the attack, and she had found it and brought it to me. She took me walking and told me she had seen it all, and if I did not make you—” she broke off and glanced at Lord Roydon, “—marry me, she would tell all of society what I had done. I realized she would twist it to sound like it had been me, how it was my wanton behavior that had driven her brother to do this, and my father would lose his position. My mother would be devastated, and my four little sisters would never find husbands who were anything but the lowest of characters.”

  “I wouldn’t marry her if she begged me,” the earl said. “She is the one who faces utter ruin.”

  “Do you understand, though, why I have behaved in the manner I have? Why I flirted and… and kissed you? I am so sorry,” Claire fell back against the squabs. She was drained and exhausted.

  “It is my fault,” the earl ground out. “Because of my father and some silly idea he had, some friendship with a man not worthy. Because of this, your life has been miserable. She may as well know today, I would rather spit on her than to recognize she exists.”

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Willa’s voice cut through the silence. “Neither of you are helping Claire out. What will killing the viscount accomplish, Your Grace? Won’t it bring notoriety of the kind she does not want or need? And you, Lord Roydon, don’t you think after you spit on Lady Regina she will go out into the world and tell her dirty little secret to everyone who will listen? And who will it be?” she demanded in an angry voice. “It will be everyone, I tell you. Everyone. Because all of society feeds on gossip, and they let it fester and grow and twist it until the truth is no longer there. And at the center of it all will be Claire. Innocent Claire. Before you act, either of you,” Willa went on after but a brief pause, “please think about your actions and how they will affect Claire.”