The Blackmailed Beauty Page 2

Claire’s heart sank when she noted one of the four arrivals was Lady Regina Norton. Miss Samantha Penworthy, the eldest daughter of the local squire and a close friend of Lady Regina’s, as well as two unknown gentlemen, made up the remainder of the party.

  “Vicar Stuart, Miss Stuart,” Lady Regina greeted them. “I am so glad you are here. We have guests, and I thought to show them our little church. You will do much better than I, Vicar, on detailing its history, if you wouldn't mind giving them a tour.”

  “I’d be happy to,” the vicar said, putting down his sermon notes and moving toward the group. “Come, Claire, and greet our visitors.”

  Claire, conscious of the discoloring of her bruised cheek, joined the small group with reluctance.

  Lady Regina introduced the gentlemen as “His Grace the Duke of Lamberton and the Right Honourable Earl of Roydon. You know my friend, Miss Penworthy, of course,” she ended. Then turning toward the two gentlemen she continued, “This is Vicar Stuart and his eldest daughter, Miss Claire Stuart.” The gentlemen, in turn, greeted each of the Stuarts.

  Claire could tell her usually calm father was a bit flustered at the thought of showing his small church to such an exalted personage as a duke. She wondered why such a person was visiting the Earl of Berwick’s family and then realized both gentlemen might well be friends of the viscount. There was little time to dwell on it, however, as the vicar took the lead and suggested the small group follow him for a brief history and a short tour. Miss Penworthy fell in behind him as the two gentlemen waited for Lady Regina to follow.

  “Do go on,” Lady Regina said. “I would like to visit with Miss Stuart for just a bit.” She waited until the others had moved away before continuing. “I think I have something of yours. It's in the carriage if you will come with me.”

  Claire had no desire to cause a scene. “Let me fetch my shawl,” she said with reluctance.

  “You won’t need it,” Lady Regina urged. “In fact, it is just what I have returned to you.”

  Claire’s heart sank as she followed the other girl outside and waited for Lady Regina to fetch the shawl.

  “I have had it cleaned for you,” Lady Regina said as she handed it to Claire. “Since you have it back now, why don’t we take a short stroll through the cemetery? The old tombstones are so fascinating, are they not?”

  Claire wrapped the shawl around herself, wishing she did not have to follow. They were quiet until they reached the far end of the graveyard.

  “I saw you,” Lady Regina began quietly. “In the bower with my brother,” she clarified.

  “It was not by choice,” Claire said, nerves trembling in her stomach.

  “I don't doubt it. My brother is a pig,” Lady Regina spat, “but you would be ruined if word of it got out.”

  Claire stopped. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Lady Regina frowned. “My father wants me to marry Lord Roydon."

  “What does this all have to do with me?” Claire inquired.

  “I love another gentleman.”

  “I don’t see how I can help.”

  “Don’t be so naive,” Lady Regina said. “When we are in London, I want you to convince the earl to marry you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Claire questioned.

  “If the earl proposes to you, my father will have to allow me to marry a man of my choice.”

  “Why don’t you just explain this to your father?”

  “As long as the earl is available, my father will not approve of anyone else. He was friends with the late earl, and the two of them decided years ago their children should marry,” Lady Regina finished.

  “Unfortunately, I just don’t know how I could help you,” Claire said. “I’m a mere vicar’s daughter, and he is an earl. I haven’t much of a dowry, so I can’t imagine we will even be at many of the same events. How I could convince him to marry me is beyond my comprehension.”

  Lady Regina faced her. “I understood you were going to be staying with your uncle and aunt.” She waited as Claire nodded. “Your uncle is a viscount and is well known,” Lady Regina pointed out, impatience in her voice. “Of course you’ll be at the same events, and it is up to you as to how you should convince him he wants to marry you.”

  “I still could not do as you ask,” Claire said.

  Lady Regina appeared smug. “I thought you might feel this way,” she stated, “which is why I have decided to disclose the information I know about yesterday if you do not. It’s the earl or ruin, Miss Stuart,” she ended with a look of determination on her face.

  Claire’s heart sank once again. All the memories of the assault came rushing back so strongly she reached out to clutch a nearby headstone. “It was not my fault,” she whispered.

  “Society won’t believe it. Look at yourself. They will deem what I tell them as true. I will say you are no better than you should be and used your beauty to try to compromise a viscount. You’ll be ruined,” Lady Regina said harshly, “and your sisters as well. It's hard to imagine they will make decent matches once the news is out. And your father’s position here…” she trailed off with a rather wicked chuckle.

  Claire reached a trembling hand up to rub at her brow. She had a pounding ache in her head and another in her heart. “I’ll do it,” she heard herself whisper.

  Chapter Two

  Lady Regina left to walk back toward the church. Claire followed, but at a distance. She felt like screaming in frustration. Was it not enough to suffer the attack? Now she had to face blackmail!

  The other woman waited on the steps to the church until Claire had caught up. “Smile,” Lady Regina said. “I wish everyone to think we are friends. And since you want him to find you attractive you might want to keep your unblemished side toward the earl,” she suggested.

  The small tour group was just returning to the church foyer when Lady Regina and Claire entered. Feeling quite conscious now about her cheek, she did try to keep it on the shadowed side and away from the gentlemen. She studied the earl quietly as her father continued to speak about the church’s history. This was the man Lady Regina wanted her to marry. Claire’s thoughts raced through her head as she stood there mutely trying to decide what she might say to make him at least notice her now.

  “It’s a beautiful church, isn’t it?” Regina asked, as though she attended regularly.

  “Quite,” the earl replied. “It is, indeed, steeped in history.”

  “I dare say it is one of the most attractive I have visited,” the duke agreed, looking directly at Claire. He was the most handsome gentleman she had seen and his dark eyes unsettled her. She lowered her eyes to stare at the floor.

  “We had best be moving on,” Lady Regina said. “There is much left to see.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stuart,” the duke said to Claire, stopping before her. “I understand we are to see you in London this season?” His gaze once again lingered on her face.

  “Yes,” Claire replied. “I shall be leaving in a fortnight.” Her voice was soft, for she found she was unaccountably nervous.

  “It will be our pleasure to have you there,” the duke said before turning to thank her father for the guided tour.

  “Yes, our pleasure, Miss Stuart,” the earl agreed, as he bowed to her.

  Claire found her tongue long enough to say, “Thank you, my lord.” She politely bid Miss Penworthy a good day and walked outside with her father to watch the coach drive away. Then Claire moved away so her father would not see the tears glistening in her eyes. “I am going to walk back home,” she told him. “I must finish Mama’s sampler.”

  The remainder of the day passed in a blur for Claire. She accomplished nothing, for she was intent upon the threat Lady Regina had made. Her first reaction was to ignore it. Lady Regina was a spiteful and selfish girl. Once she arrived in London, she might forget her threats. Then a small voice whispered inside her, “She will do it. She will.”

  Claire wondered, if she chose to believe the threat, h
ow she might accomplish the goal. She had no idea how to act the vixen. Excited about London, she had thought she might be lucky enough to find a younger son who found her attractive and who might love her. Indeed, she had never thought to look higher than someone of her own class. To behave in such a way so an earl felt he must make her his wife was unthinkable.

  That night Claire’s thoughts filled with doubts and worries. Unable to sleep, she rose from her bed and lit a candle. Sitting beside the window, she pulled her feet in under her nightgown and away from the cold floor. She tried to decide what she would have to do to win the heart of Lord Roydon, but the memory of dark eyes kept getting in her way.

  “Claire,” came a quiet voice at the door.

  Recognizing Fayre’s voice, Claire softly called, “Come in.”

  The door opened, and her sister slipped in. “I got up to get a snack, and thought I heard you.”

  “Yes,” Claire said. “I couldn’t sleep. Sit down. The floor is cold,” she invited.

  “Did I disturb you?” Fayre asked as she climbed onto the bed.

  “No, I was just thinking about London.”

  “I so wish I was going,” Fayre said. “If I were you I would be dying of excitement, yet you seem so calm.”

  “Nervous, rather than calm,” Claire corrected truthfully.

  “I would be, too,” Fayre replied. “Imagine it all— the balls, the gowns, the gentlemen. It is like a dream. Hopefully, Aunt and Uncle will give me a come out as well. However, I worry when Willa is out, they won’t bother to leave the country.”

  “Many girls don’t marry their first season,” Claire pointed out sensibly. “Perhaps Willa will have a second season. She has no real need to marry soon.”

  “True,” Fayre said, “and perhaps you will marry soon, and then you can bring me out next season. Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”

  “Do not count on me marrying so well,” she warned. “Perhaps a younger son…”

  Fayre interrupted her. “I don’t believe it.” She studied Claire through the dim light. “You are so beautiful; you will surely marry an earl.”

  An earl. Even her sister wanted her to.

  “Yes, an earl,” Fayre repeated as though to herself. She glanced up at Claire. “It is just the thing for you to set your sights on. Then you could introduce me to all the best men, and then Kate, and Anna, and Holly. We will all marry well and will look after Mama and Papa in their old age! You know Papa won’t have much after raising the five of us.” Fayre yawned. “I’m going to go back to bed,” she told Claire. Then she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Like a knife in her heart, the truth hit. Claire realized she must meet Lady Regina’s terms. How could she not? Her sisters were counting on her for their own futures. Fayre was pretty and talented, an accomplished musician. At fifteen, Kate already showed great artistic talent, her watercolors and sketches proof she could capture the heart and soul of her subject. Anna, on the brink of womanhood, was a quiet and bookish child, but so intelligent, and little Holly was always joyful. She deserved a life which did not steal the joy away from her. In addition, her parents did not deserve to live out their years in penury in a tiny cottage.

  Claire rose and crossed to the window, the cold now welcome on her feet. A streak caught her eye. There was a falling star. As though it were a sign from God, she closed her eyes and whispered a tiny prayer. “Please make him love me.”

  ****

  The morning air was cool when Noel Mallory, The Duke of Lamberton, and his friend John Herne, Lord Roydon, mounted their stallions and spurred them down the road toward town.

  “So you have met Lady Regina,” Noel said, opening the conversation.

  John grunted.

  “What do you mean?” Noel asked.

  “I’m not sure,” his friend replied.

  They rode in silence for a short distance. “These decisions to wed children off to one another are outdated, you know,” John stated.

  “I agree,” Noel replied.

  “I’m not sure Lady Regina is the type of woman I would want to marry,” the earl went on, “but I guess time will tell. I owe it to my father to at least investigate the idea.” After a moment’s silence John continued. “What did you think of her?” he asked, casting a glance at his best friend since childhood.

  “Lady Regina?”

  “I thought she was the topic of the conversation,” John said wryly.

  Noel thought a moment before replying. “She is pretty enough for a brunette.” He thought a bit. “And she dresses well,” he added.

  John laughed. “Is that all?”

  “As you say, time will tell. Now, Miss Stuart,” the duke went on, “Miss Stuart is a real beauty. I do hope we run into her about town.”

  “I personally prefer brunettes, but not necessarily Lady Regina,” John said.

  “So if not Lady Regina, who?” Noel teased, knowing John’s mother had a bee up her bonnet about filling the nursery in the coming year.

  “I don’t know,” the earl answered. “I’m sure we’ll meet a number of eligible young women within the next few weeks.”

  “No doubt,” Noel replied.

  Again, they rode in silence through the English countryside. Both men appreciated nature, if for different reasons. Noel loved horticulture. He enjoyed nothing more than digging in the dirt, growing a new type of rose, or researching plants, which would produce food and income for his tenants and his estate. On the other hand, John was an equestrian, and he enjoyed nothing more than a sweet-goer who could take a jump at a terrifying speed, racing with the wind in his face. His invaluable knowledge of horses helped Noel in his selecting his cattle.

  “Noel,” John broke the silence, “why don’t you make a match of it this season, too? We could grow old comparing our youngsters and being spoiled by our wives.”

  John’s mother wasn’t the only one anxious to bounce her grandbabies on her knee. His own parent was even older than John’s, having been unsuccessful in having children for some years after marriage. Indeed, he knew she was looking forward to this possible new role in her life and had been dropping numerous hints.

  “Noel,” she had said not more than a fortnight ago, “I’m having the footmen help me clean out the attics. What should we do with the old nursery furniture?”

  “Whatever you want,” he’d replied absentmindedly, his thoughts on the new horticultural journal he had received.

  “I could dispose of them. I’m sure we have tenants in need,” she had said before casting a sly look at her son, “or I could just go ahead and have them moved back downstairs,” she had offered.

  Noel had recently been thinking more about setting up his nursery. His mother was company, of course, but not what a wife would be.

  Noel went to town for Parliament every year. He took his role in government seriously, and the Duke of Lamberton had always wielded much power with the king. Other than those times, he was happiest at home on his estate where society was a bit thinner. Conveniently, his best friend lived but a half-day’s ride away, and the two frequently spent time together.

  Miss Stuart had been the first young woman who had caught his eye in a while. She was a breathtaking blonde, and her eyes were the blue of his favorite hyacinth. Her cheeks, he decided, were the color of the palest blush rose, except for the bruise she carried. Noel wondered about it. He’d seen similar bruises on women pushed around by their men, but he doubted the vicar was hitting his family members. A nicer gentleman he had seldom met. Returning his thoughts to Miss Stuart, he remembered the surprise he had experienced when she spoke. Her voice had been a bit throaty, almost husky, and Noel had found it incredibly sensuous.

  “Have you thought about it, Noel?” John’s voice broke in.

  “I’m sorry,” Noel replied, shaking loose his vision of the lovely Miss Stuart with reluctance. “I wasn’t attending.”

  “Getting leg-shackled this season. Have you given it a thought?”

  “Yes,
I have,” Noel replied truthfully. “You never know, John, I might just surprise you.”

  The ride took most of the day. They stopped now and then to water their horses and give them a short break while partaking of a mug of ale in a village inn. Luncheon consisted of meat pies and another mug. Continuing on, they rode into the evening and arrived in London by the time the light was waning in the west. Riding into Grosvenor Square, each man bade the other goodnight and then they parted, for they lived on opposite sides of the square.

  “You’re just in time for dinner,” the duchess greeted her son when he walked into the drawing room. “I’m happy you are here. I do so hate dining alone.”

  “Do I have time to change?” Noel asked, assuming his mother didn’t want to sit down with him smelling of horse.

  She wrinkled her nose at his pungent odor. “If you hurry,” she said.

  His valet was waiting, having mysteriously received the word His Grace was back. Noel washed quickly and donned his eveningwear with Knox’s assistance. Then he returned to the drawing room and, offering his arm to his mother, led her into dinner.

  “Did you have a nice trip?” Grace Mallory asked her son.

  “I did.” Noel answered. “We jogged to the south a bit and went past Lord Berwick’s place.”

  “Berwick. Isn’t he the father of the scoundrel, Viscount Pitt?”

  “Yes, the same,” Noel agreed. “He also has a daughter, Lady Regina Norton. John’s father wished him to marry Lady Regina.”

  The duchess raised her delicate eyebrows. “I had no idea,” she said.

  “John has made no commitment,” Noel said. “He had not met the lady previously. And although he has not stated it explicitly, I am not sure he was pleased with her.”

  “What did you think of her?” his mother asked.

  “Spoiled, petty, even a bit mean perhaps,” Noel said, “I admit to a hope my friend can make a better match.”

  “It shall not be long before the invitations begin to arrive. You will both have many opportunities.”

  “Is that a hint?” Noel caught his mother’s eye.