The Blackmailed Beauty Read online

  Alistair Norton, Viscount Pitt, was one of the lowest members of society as far as Noel was concerned. Gossip abounded about the man. A womanizer of the worst kind, rumor had it he took any woman who did not offer herself to him if he was interested. He gambled and lived a hair’s breadth away from the river tick at all times. Word was he had killed a man. Noel didn’t doubt it. Furthermore, he wouldn’t bother with this evening except for the fact it did seem suspicious Pitt, his sister, and Claire all lived in the same small area. Now Claire was being eaten up inside by some demon.

  “Where are you off to?” the duchess asked her son as he appeared at dinner.

  “You’d rather not know, Mama,” was his reply.

  She raised those delicate gray eyebrows and gave him her most haughty look. “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “I find I am ever so curious now,” she said. “Do tell.”

  “Seriously, Mama,” Noel said, “I don’t wish to cause you worry, so I will not say.”

  The duchess actually stomped her foot beneath the table. “It is just the type of remark, young man, which infuriates me beyond belief. Men use it all the time. Like we women are not going to worry more when we don’t know where you’re going or what you’re about.”

  Noel glanced up at her. She was in a bit of a rant. “I am going to make some inquiries of Viscount Pitt if you must know.”

  “Oh.” She looked down the table at him with a rather piercing look. “Where will you find him?”

  “I would rather you not know.”

  “Noel William Alexander Mallory! You will tell me and do so now. If you do not, I shall follow you.”

  Noel laughed at the thought of his tiny mother stomping down the street to the gambling dens.

  “What are you laughing about?” She did appear quite fierce now.

  “All right,” he said. “John and I will be going around to some of the lower establishments where we do not intend to partake of the various entertainments. Once we find Pitt, I shall join him in a cutthroat game of cards and make some discreet inquiries. I have a feeling his sister is intent upon causing Miss Stuart some harm, or at least a good deal of grief.”

  The duchess sat back deflated. “Oh, Noel, do be careful. Shouldn’t you take a footman with you?”

  “No doubt, Mama, but it is just not done in these sorts of places. But do not fear, John and I have always watched each other’s backs, and we will do so again tonight.”

  “Well, I do beg you to take a gun with you,” she said weakly.

  “I have already tucked one in my boot and the other in my pocket.”

  Dinner passed slowly. The duchess switched from being a nervous chatterbox to being withdrawn. Noel remained silent throughout most of the meal.

  Much of the town was abed by the time he and John left to search for Lord Pitt. They took a hackney, choosing to leave their carriages safely in the mews.

  “What a nice walking stick you have there, Noel,” John remarked. “I’ve never seen it before, have I?”

  “I doubt you have,” Noel said. “This is the first time I’ve carried it, although I have had it for several years. It was a gift from the old sea captain who lives next door.”

  “Captain Asbury?” John shook his head from side to side. “The old codger is something. The stories he has!”

  “Yes,” Noel agreed. “And I’m sure he has several about this cane. Notice,” he said quietly, and then he began to tug on the handle pulling it from the lower part of the stick to reveal a thin and deadly sword.

  John’s eyes grew round. “Remind me to stay on your good side tonight.”

  The hackney driver refused to drive them all the way. “I like a good fare, guv’nor,” he said, “but I ain’t no fool, and if I drive you gents any further, I’ll no doubt lose every fare I’ve made tonight.”

  “Understood, good man,” Noel said, slipping the driver a bit of the ready. “We’ll take it from here.”

  He and John disembarked and began the walk into the slums.

  “Hey, handsome, you up for some fun?” one scantily clad woman with a toothless smile and a slur to her voice asked.

  The two ignored her and moved on. As they passed one group of young thugs, Noel’s hand grew tighter on the sword’s handle, while John’s hand slipped into his pocket. They soon entered the first gaming house where the smoke was thick as was the stench of unwashed bodies. The floor was sticky with ale and substances Noel had no desire to examine too closely.

  Viscount Pitt was not to be found there, nor at the next. It was well into the night by the time they stepped through the door of a gaming hole so low Noel was sure they would not find even Pitt there, but he was wrong.

  The viscount sat at a table toward the back, a fancy piece on his knee, and cards in his hand. Four other men kept him company. Noel recognized all of them and knew them to be men who lived on their vowels, daily exchanging them, collecting them, or writing them as a result of their frequent gambling. Two other ladybirds hovered nearby.

  Noel and John walked toward them. When they arrived, Noel pulled out the chair from beneath the young man to Pitt’s right. “Go home, Evans,” he growled.

  “I don’t wanna,” the drunk Evans replied as he barely caught himself before falling.

  “But I want you to,” Noel said. “I have a desire to sit right here in this seat, and you are preventing me from doing so when you fill it.”

  “But—”

  Noel cut him off. “I’m sure your father doesn’t know you are here, and if you do not leave he will know by dawn. Furthermore, I will suggest to him how some youngsters need a bit of hard work to mature them. I hear the navy is hiring.”

  The young man appeared terrified as he ran from the building. Noel calmly took his seat. John crossed his arms and leaned carelessly against the wall behind him.

  “Deal me in, gentleman,” Noel commanded.

  “Yes, Sir,” the dealer replied with surprise.

  Noel wasn’t a gambler, but it was by choice and not from inability. Hindered by alcohol, the other men were no match for his sharp mind and playing skills. Two hands later, Noel was ahead. By the third hand, he’d driven off one of the other three men. At the end of the fourth, he flatly asked the other two to leave. One glance at the steel in his eyes and they moved quickly. All of them knew the duke was the most genial of men, however, by his title alone he wielded more power than they could summon up together. The name of Lamberton had long been associated with the crown.

  Lord Pitt opened the conversation between them. “I say, Duke, it’s not like you to come around to these holes.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Noel replied. “If you made an appearance in society now and then, one might not have to visit you here.”

  “A pox on society,” Pitt spat. “What do I need with dancing and dining the night away?”

  “Your sister seems to enjoy it.”

  “Well, it’s Regina’s problem. And I doubt if she enjoys it as much as you might think,” the viscount finished.

  “Why so?” Noel asked.

  The viscount laughed. “She likes her men a little bit lower,” he said.

  Noel studied him sharply. “How interesting,” he commented with purposeful nonchalance in his voice.

  “Why don’t you get me another, love,” the viscount said to the woman on his knee. He held up his glass even as he planted a wet kiss on her plump lips.

  Willingly kissing him back, she finally rose and moved away. “You don’t have your eye on my sister, do you, Your Grace?” the viscount asked, “’Cause I gotta tell you, you need to treat her a little rough. Norton women like it you know.”

  “Is that so?” Noel asked. “You make it sound like she’s been around a bit, and I’m not looking for used goods.”

  Pitt laughed. “If so, Lamberton, you’d better look elsewhere. Besides I kinda thought Regina had her eye on Sully.”

  “Sully?” Noel queried. “Baron Sully?”
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  “Sure,” the viscount said with a shrug. “I took him back home last winter, and they got on like a house afire. Why I’d wager old Sully had his way with her by the second night.” The light-skirt came back and stood by the viscount, one hand sliding down the front of his shirt. “I could be wrong,” he finished.

  Noel started to rise as though he was about to leave and then sank back into his seat. “By the way, Pitt, you don’t know a Miss Claire Stuart do you? I can’t imagine you do. She’s a vicar’s daughter.”

  The younger man looked up into the light-skirt’s face. “No, I can’t imagine I do,” he agreed without meeting Noel's eyes. Then turning back to Noel he continued, “Should I?”

  Noel thought it was a bit too casual. “You tell me,” he said.

  “Don’t think so,” Pitt said as he pulled the woman down to his lap again, sliding his arms around her to pull her close.

  Noel pushed his chair back so hard it fell over. “Let’s get out of here,” he snapped.

  John caught up with him within a few steps.

  Outside, the duke slammed his hand against the wall of the building. “The man knows something. I know he does.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You two look as pretty as can be,” Aunt Blythe told the girls as they joined her in the waiting carriage. “I’m so proud of you both,” she went on.

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Blythe.” The girls’ voices joined as a cheerful chorus.

  “Where do we go first, Aunt Blythe?” Claire questioned.

  “The Sheffield’s,” came the answer. “I thought we would start furthest from home and work our way back,” the viscountess finished.

  “Excellent idea,” Willa remarked. “This way when we are sick from all the tea, we’ll be near our house.” She grinned to show her mother she was only joking.

  “Sip, slowly,” her mother instructed with a smile.

  Miss Lucy Staples was a cheerful young woman who was quite popular, not due to her dowry or father’s title, but because of her wit. Claire and Willa both joined her, as there were no other young people present at the time.

  “Do you go to Almack’s tomorrow?” Claire asked politely.

  “Of course,” Miss Staples answered. “Mama wouldn’t let me out of it if I tried,” she confided. “I do sometimes wish I could stay home for one night.”

  “We did so yesterday,” Willa put in, “and it was so relaxing. One needs some time to catch up now and then.”

  Miss Staples nodded eagerly. “I can’t wait to tell Mama. If the Amhearst’s do it, surely we may,” she whispered with a laugh.

  The two young women joined in her laughter. Then Claire spoke again. “After my quiet life in the country, I must admit this constant round of social events can get tedious. Why, back at home we only had the occasional assembly, and once in a great while Lady Regina Norton would convince her father to host a small ball.”

  “You live near Lady Regina?” the hostess’s daughter asked quietly.

  “Yes. Do you know her?” Claire asked innocently.

  “A bit,” Miss Staples admitted with a frown.

  “Oh, Miss Staples, did she hurt you in some way?” Claire asked. “She can be, well, a bit thoughtless at times.”

  Miss Staples bit her lower lip and nodded. “It was my first ball, and she made some remarks.”

  Willa patted the other girl on the arm. “They must have hurt,” she said comfortingly.

  “They did,” Miss Staples admitted. “Since Father is just a plain mister, she said some unkind things about my station in life. I haven’t spoken to her since and don’t even see her often.”

  The other two girls said everything soothing and then accepted tea from Mrs. Staples.

  The next call was but a few minutes closer to home. The drawing room was quite crowded, and Claire lost hope they would learn anything more. However, soon she and Willa took seats between two young men who had sent them several small bouquets and danced with them faithfully at the balls and at Almack’s.

  “You will save a dance for me won’t you, Miss Stuart? At Almack’s?” one young man clarified.

  “Of course,” she assured him.

  “Good, though, I daresay you’ll be a duchess or a countess soon enough and far too good for the likes of me,” he continued.

  “Nonsense,” she said. “I don’t doubt I will be back next season to dance with you again.”

  He gave her a look of disbelief. “There are just some young women one knows will take first thing,” he told her, “and both you and your cousin are among them. Next year,” he went on, “we’ll be stuck with the likes of Lady Regina, Miss Penworthy, their group, and the entire new crop, of course.”

  “You don’t believe Lady Regina will be married before next season?”

  “Pardon me, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said.

  “No, please. She is a neighbor from home, but I do not count her as a friend,” Claire said, encouraging the young man to gossip.

  “Well, if you must know, she’s the type who eats her young,” he said. “Poisonous like.”

  Claire nodded. She knew only too well.

  “I don’t suppose you have any sisters, Miss Stuart,” the young man said hopefully.

  She bestowed a brilliant smile on him. “I do, as a matter of fact. Fayre is one year younger than I am and should be making her bows next season.”

  New hope shone in his eyes. “Is she as pretty as you, Miss Stuart?”

  “Far prettier,” she said patting his hand.

  Four cups of tea and three cakes later, Claire was enjoying a stroll through the garden with two young women – the McDermott twins. Their mother was a pretty English woman, their father a hearty Scotsman, and the two were making their first bows this season.

  “This is the prettiest tea rose,” Claire pointed out.

  “I do wish we could rid it of aphids, however,” one twin said. Claire thought it had been Miss Lucinda, but it might have been Miss Melinda.

  “I have a wonderful powder I use at home,” she said. “I mix it up from ingredients I obtain from the kitchen.”

  “I would love to try it. Do you have the receipt for it?” the other twin asked.

  “Of course, I’ll send it around to you.”

  “Oh, please do,” the first twin replied. “Do I understand you also love a rose garden?”

  “Most definitely. It is my main occupation at home. I garden, help Papa with cleaning the church, and visit the neighbors.”

  “It sounds like a perfect life,” said the second twin this time. “Do you have many neighbors?” she asked. “In Scotland, I’m afraid we do not.”

  “Well, of course there are the villagers and many local tenants. Squire Penworthy is a neighbor, as is the Earl of Berwick. I’m sure you are acquainted with his daughter, Lady Regina?” Claire decided she was becoming quite good at this.

  Both girls frowned. “Unfortunately,” they admitted in unison. It didn’t take much encouragement for the first twin to mimic Lady Regina perfectly.

  “Cookie cutter faces will not draw suitors.”

  “But it wasn’t the worst of it, was it Melinda?”

  “What else did she say?” Claire urged.

  “Perhaps one man should marry us both, so when one of us tired he could take on the other.”

  “She is just an awful and vulgar person,” Miss Melinda said. “I try hard to avoid her now.”

  “It’s for the best, I’m sure,” Claire said soothingly, wishing she could do likewise.

  ****

  Willa looked around Almack’s until she spotted Lady Regina. “She’s across the room and at the far end,” she whispered in her cousin’s ear. “She’s got on a white gown with a few too many flounces.”

  Willa watched as Claire searched her out and nodded. “We must pay special attention to everyone she dances with,” Claire instructed Willa.

  The girls stood around for a while, lightly fli
rting with the men who requested access to their dance cards and keeping their eyes firmly on Lady Regina.

  She did not have as many young men swirling around her, but she did seem to get her share of dance requests. When the music started, all three of them were on the floor. The man dancing with Lady Regina was an unknown to Willa, but she was sure she could learn his identity without much effort.

  “Are you acquainted with the gentleman who is dancing with Lady Norton?” she asked her partner. “He looks quite familiar.”

  “I am,” he said. “It is Viscount Marley. Perhaps you have seen him before. He is no doubt a fan of your father’s.”

  “Oh,” Willa replied with a smile. “That is most likely where I remember him from.” She changed the subject, and soon the young man was telling her about the races he had seen that day.

  Meeting Claire on the edge of the dance floor, Willa leaned toward her. “Viscount Marley,” she whispered.

  Claire nodded, snapped open her fan and penciled a name onto one narrow slat in a neat hand.

  Their next dancing partners arrived in good time, and the two girls let the men lead them out to the floor. Willa relaxed this time, for it was Claire’s turn to obtain the name. Instead, she chatted with her partner about the lovely weather they were having. “It’s usually so much chillier in June,” she commented inanely.

  Again, between dances, Claire snapped open her fan and penciled in a name. This time it was her turn to whisper. “Mr. Nathaniel Thurston.”

  When the next dance began, Willa slipped her hand onto the arm of the handsome young earl who had requested it. Again, she did not recognize Lady Regina’s partner. “Did you know my father raises racehorses?” she asked sweetly.

  He smiled down. “Of course, Miss Dutton. It is my fondest hope to one day own one.”

  “Oh,” Willa replied. “Perhaps you’ll be one of the many men who visit our estates then.”

  “I have already,” he admitted, “but as I had not yet come into the title I could not make a purchase. This fall I shall finally be able to.”

  “I missed seeing you then,” she said. “Of course, I see many visitors as Father is always traipsing them into the house for refreshments and the like. I can barely keep track of who they all are. For instance, the tall gentleman dancing with Lady Regina there seems familiar, but I can’t quite place him.”