The Blackmailed Beauty Page 6

  “I recommend the salmon, Miss Stuart.”

  ****

  Noel felt like he had been punched when she lifted her eyes to his. It was easy to lose himself in the blueness surrounded by those long, lush lashes, which were surprisingly dark for a delicate blonde.

  “Thank you, Your Grace, I do believe I shall try it,” she replied as she reached for the serving fork.

  Noel knew he should serve her, but he was unable to move. He opened his mouth to speak, though he did not know what to say. He closed it again, realizing he looked much as the salmon had during its life. He watched as she finished serving herself and then moved on. Still he stood there.

  “Lamberton,” came John’s voice, “move on. You’re holding up the line.”

  Shaking his head slightly, Noel forced one leg in front of the other and found he was able to walk after all. He put nothing on his plate but rather followed blindly down the line.

  It suddenly struck him that he was in love with her, although he was hardly able to grasp the idea. He had met her but a few weeks ago and had seen her little in London. She had actually snubbed him in the park. Yet, he loved her.

  In the evening, as he watched her walk gracefully to the stage and seat herself behind the harp, he had known but he had dismissed it. Her hands were delicate on the instrument and Noel had found himself wishing he were the harp. To have her fingers plucking at his heartstrings, gliding over his form. He had even had to reach up to tug at his cravat so heated had he become.

  When her cousin had joined her and she began the accompanying notes, her versatility impressed him, but that had not even been the final blow. Indeed, when she had opened her perfectly formed mouth and begun to sing, it had hit him harder than imaginable. It had hit so hard it had hurt. It was as though some massive hands were clenching his guts, twisting them into knots.

  When she sang her voice had done things to him, which the most talented opera singer could not achieve. It was low, it was sultry, it aroused his senses. How was a vicar’s daughter able to possess such a singing voice? Indeed, it was beyond comprehension. He could not even hear or see Miss Dutton. His eyes and ears were tuned only to his Miss Stuart, but she wasn’t his. Therein lay the problem.

  Just now, in the line, he had felt as though some unseen force had ripped the breath from his lungs. He was unable to breathe, or to move, and he could not focus on anything but her. Then she had sauntered off, as though she did not have a care in the world. He was left standing there across the breach of the table, distanced by the salmon.

  Somehow he must change the situation. He would court her; he would shower her with flowers, gifts, and tokens of his affection. Indeed, he would bribe the Viscount’s servants to tell him where she would be each night. Then he would dance with her, waltz with her, walk with her. They would go riding; he would show her the sights. There was no other option than for him to win her heart, and if he did not he would wither up and die like a tender plant in the cold of winter.

  “Noel,” John said quietly, “Shall we see if we can join the Amhearst party?”

  Noel opened his mouth to say they did not dare. How could he? It would be impossible to eat, drink, or appear as anything other than an imbecile around her. Yet he was unable to say no. He suddenly knew his entire life was now in her hands. John was already moving in the direction of the Amhearsts, and Noel found himself meekly following.

  “Lady Amhearst, would you mind if we join you?” John was saying politely.

  “Of course, it would be our pleasure."

  John seated himself next to Miss Dutton leaving Noel the chair beside Miss Stuart. He set down his plate and glass and managed to pull out the seat, somehow sliding into it without collapsing.

  “Your daughter and niece are extremely talented,” John was telling the viscountess before turning to each girl in turn. “The duet was exceptional. Your voices blend perfectly.”

  “Thank you, Lord Roydon,” Miss Dutton replied. “We enjoy singing together. My cousin has the true talent, however. She performs regularly for the congregation in her father’s church.”

  “The congregation is truly lucky then,” Noel heard his friend say to Miss Stuart. He noticed the smile John gave her.

  A footman appeared with a bottle of wine, refilling the ladies’ half-empty glasses. John kicked him on the ankle beneath the table. Noel glanced at him, wondering why.

  “Don’t you agree the ladies gave an exceptional performance?” John asked.

  “Yes, most exceptional,” Noel replied. He wanted to say more but did not know how. How would he ask Miss Stuart if he could call her by her first name? Was it possible to tell her she was the most beautiful creature ever to walk the earth? Could he tell her he wanted to hear her voice forever? For her to be his forever? Oh, yes, he wanted to stand up, throw back his chair, and declare to the world how Miss Claire Stuart was his and only his. That no one else should look at her, speak to her, or especially touch her. In his mind, it was as simple as that. And then, he would take her into his arms.

  Instead, he sat mutely, his food untouched until she reached over and lightly touched his arm.

  “Your Grace?” Her voice was again incredible. He turned to drown in those eyes once more. “I wanted to say how sorry I am for ignoring you in the park yesterday morning.” She spoke so low it was almost a whisper, and it clutched at his heart. She went on. “My cousin pointed out how I missed something you said. I’m afraid my thoughts were elsewhere. I spotted an unusual bird, you see.”

  Suddenly, he found himself incredibly thirsty, so he grabbed his goblet and downed the wine in a single swallow. The others at the table looked at him oddly. Let them look, he thought. He was a duke and a duke in love at that.

  Chapter Six

  The duke’s manners surprised Willa. Never had she seen a man look so desperate for a drink. In fact, now when she thought about it, he was behaving rather oddly. He had not touched his food and had said no more than a few words. Perhaps he was feeling ill this evening. It was rather warm, and the air was a bit stuffy. As she studied him, she noticed his cravat was loose and mussed. Most unusual.

  She transferred her gaze from the duke to the earl. Lord Roydon, unlike his friend, seemed to be in fine spirits. He had complimented them ever so nicely on their performances. She was pleased he liked them so well. The entertainment had all been good this evening, but she did know she and Claire had done a superb job. Even though her cousin had the real talent, Willa was quite proud of herself as well.

  Offering a most benevolent smile, she turned and spoke to the gentlemen. “All of the performances were quite exceptional this evening, don’t you agree?”

  “Certainly,” Lord Roydon replied. “I can’t remember a musicale I have enjoyed so much. Usually, I admit, I attend somewhat out of duty.”

  “Yes,” Willa’s mother chimed in. “Musicales tend to be somewhat like Almack’s,” she continued, “a necessary and important part of the season but not something one relishes enough to attend if not needed.”

  The earl nodded his agreement and looked at the younger ladies. “I assume you have obtained vouchers, Miss Dutton and Miss Stuart.”

  “Yes,” Claire replied. “I am quite honored.”

  “I have a thought I should dig out my satin breeches,” the earl said. “If I attend you will each be guaranteed a dance. Neither of you must worry, though. Why, the lines of gentlemen will no doubt snake out the door.”

  Willa laughed. He was a most kind man. “You do exaggerate so,” she teased him, “but in a most kindly fashion. Every female in attendance shall be begging for your attentions,” she finished wondering where she had suddenly learned to flirt in such a manner.

  Taking a moment to examine the thought, she listened as her cousin stepped into the silence. “It is always a welcome notion to know one might be guaranteed at least some masculine attention,” Claire said.

  “Yes, well I am sure we can convince the duke to attend as well,” he said. “Isn
’t it so, Lamberton?”

  Willa watched as the duke seemed to pull himself from somewhere distant. “I’m sorry,” he admitted, “I’m afraid I was not attending.”

  It had been obvious, Willa thought. She was beginning to be sorry for the poor man and wondered if the lobster patties might be spoiled. But, no, he had eaten nothing so that could not be the problem.

  “I was just telling Miss Dutton and Miss Stuart how I would attend the assembly at Almack’s on Wednesday so they could each count on a dance from me. You will attend as well, will you not?” the earl asked his friend with a patient tone to his voice.

  “Of course,” the duke replied simply.

  Willa noticed his eyes were on Claire’s face as he spoke. She had come to believe he was attracted to her cousin. At first, she thought the man admired only her cousin’s beauty, but she thought there was more. Yet Claire did not seem to admire him much. Willa was bothered and didn’t quite know why. What a coup it would be for her to marry a duke, and no one deserved it more. Her cousin was a humble young woman who would do anything for the love of her family and friends. Most of the young women who were on the “marriage mart” were not nearly so sweet.

  Perhaps she should contemplate how she could push Claire toward the duke just a bit. A gentle nudge might be all she needed. Quite satisfied with this decision, Willa decided now was a perfect time to start.

  “I do hope you will both attend us then,” she spoke up. “What an honor it will be for us to stand up once again with two of London’s most eligible gentlemen.” Smugly, Willa thought she might get used to being a coquette. It was most fun.

  “It’s a promise,” the earl said.

  He did have quite an attractive smile, Willa noticed. Although he did not have the smooth handsome countenance the duke did, Lord Roydon had a softer appearance and she was most impressed with his eyes. When he was in thought, he looked quite like a puppy she had had in her youth. And he so loved horses. She found she was quite in harmony with him over this subject. It might be nice to learn more about him. Before she had a chance, however, she heard her mother saying it was time they leave. As she rose, both gentlemen rose quickly and made their farewells.

  “I am quite proud of you both,” the viscountess told the girls when they arrived home. “Your duet brought tears to my eyes.”

  “What’s this I hear about crying?” Willa’s father asked as he emerged from his study.

  “Mother was just telling Claire and I how wonderful we are,” she said.

  “I am not surprised,” he replied fondly. “I have been aware of that aspect of both of you since the time you made your way into this world.”

  “You missed an exceptional musicale, my dear,” the viscountess told her fond husband.

  He laughed. “I cannot imagine an exceptional musicale.”

  “It was quite good, Uncle Yale,” Claire told him. “I particularly enjoyed the violin solo played by some young gentleman.”

  “Yes, I do wonder who he was,” the viscountess said. “I shall have to make inquiries. Perhaps we should host a musicale and arrange to have him attend.”

  “No, please,” the viscount begged. “I understand a ball is a necessity, and perhaps a dinner or two. Mayhap even a picnic, but not a musicale.”

  He crossed over to plant a kiss on Willa’s cheek, “It is time for bed, little one. You must be in your best looks tomorrow, you know,” he mimicked the statement his wife made on frequent occasions.

  She laughed at her father as she bid her mother goodnight. He gave Claire a kiss, as well, and Willa waited for her. They climbed the stairs together.

  “I am quite tired,” Willa told Claire. “But since it’s not so late tonight shall we go riding in the morning?”

  “Yes, let’s,” Claire agreed. “You’ve gotten me addicted to a ride on Clover first thing in the morning.”

  ****

  “Knox, I would like you to do me a favor,” the duke greeted his sleepy valet sometime in the early morning hours.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Noel took this to indicate agreement. “I need you to find out who is serving in the home of Lord Amhearst. I need someone who is an upper level servant and who is bribable.”

  “Bribable, Your Grace?”

  “Yes.”

  “Might I inquire as to why, Your Grace?”

  “I would like to find out which society events the family is partaking of in time I might make plans to attend.” Noel did not question the receipt of an invitation. He received more of these per day than he could ever attend.

  “Of course, Your Grace. Would tomorrow be soon enough?” Knox asked.

  “Why, it’s the middle of the night, Knox. Of course tomorrow will be soon enough.”

  Then, Noel stripped off his clothes himself, left them for his trusty valet to collect and crawled between the sheets. He hoped he’d dream of a certain lovely lady many times that night. He was asleep so quickly he did not know Knox quietly picked up the discarded clothing, snuffed out the candle, and tiptoed through the dark to the door.

  Noel woke to the smell of coffee. Knox was just setting a tray near his fireside chair. Seeing his master awake, the servant picked up the dressing gown and held it up, discreetly looking the other way as Noel crawled naked from his bed and slipped it on.

  “As to the matter from last night, Your Grace, I have located a hungry young footman who works predominantly in the front hall, the dining room, and the drawing room of a certain mansion in Berkley Square.”

  Noel looked up sharply at his valet. “Already?”

  “Yes, already, Your Grace,” was Knox’s reply.

  Noel shook his head. “You are a miracle worker. I thought it would take at least a day or two.” He wondered at Knox. The man knew everything and, in fact, he suspected Knox even knew what his own plans were before he did. He was in a good mood after a night’s sleep filled with rather luscious dreams so he decided to test his theory.

  “What am I going to do this evening, Knox?” he asked him.

  “You will be attending a select dinner party at the home of Lord and Lady Roxbury.”

  “I am?” Noel was confused. He was not even aware of an invitation. Perhaps Knox wasn’t quite as sharp as he thought.

  “Other guests include the Viscount and Viscountess of Amhearst, their daughter, Miss Dutton, and Miss Stuart, their niece. I have taken the liberty of sending a last minute acceptance to the Roxbury home, and have informed Lord Roydon’s valet of your intentions,” Knox explained patiently. “I understood Lady Roxbury was most excited at yours and Lord Roydon’s acceptance. Rumor is she was two male guests short and was in a panic at her seating quandary.”

  Noel looked up with respect at the older man. “Remind me to give you a raise this quarter,” he told his servant. “And if there is anything else I can do for you, be sure to tell me. Your service is, as always, exemplary.”

  “Well, Your Grace, you have not worn the blue paisley waistcoat in an age,” the valet said tentatively.

  “Have I not?” Noel purposely stalled, enjoying the moment with the man who had been his valet since he had returned from Eton. “It is yours, Knox. You shall look rather dapper in it. Mama’s new dresser will swoon at the sight of you in it.”

  Knox preened for just a moment. “Thank you, Your Grace. I hope Antoinette will appreciate it.”

  Noel was aware that Knox had been trying to catch the eye of the new French maid since her arrival at the beginning of the year. He had just poured a cup of coffee when Knox approached.

  “It is ever so bold of me to ask, Your Grace, but might I know which young lady you have your eye on?”

  Noel smiled. He may as well give over as Knox would know soon enough. “Of course, Knox, never be afraid to ask. It is Miss Stuart, the lovely blonde.”

  “She will make a fine duchess,” Knox said quietly as he left the room.

  An hour passed before Noel made his way to the small breakfast room where he found his mo
ther dining on toast and eggs. He kissed her lovingly on the cheek.

  “I haven’t seen you much these past few days,” she said with a slight sniff as he collected his food and sat at the other end of the small table.

  “I’ve been busy,” he said succinctly, as he opened his morning newspaper.

  “So I hear,” the duchess offered.

  Noel peered around his newspaper. “What have you heard?”

  “Only that a certain young lady seems to be getting a bit of attention from you.”

  “What is the source of your information?” he asked.

  “Here and there,” his mother replied, obviously unwilling to tattle on her informant.

  “Do you have any objection?”

  “Not at all,” the duchess said. “By the way, I sent my acceptance along with yours to the Roxbury’s.”

  Noel hid behind his paper again. “It is my understanding our attendance will even out Lady Roxbury’s numbers.”

  “Perhaps your informant does not know that Lady Roxbury invited two elderly gentlemen to even out her numbers. Now they will be thrown off,” his mother said with a quirk of her lips.

  “That will be disastrous,” Noel replied in an exaggerated shocked tone.

  “Of course it will.” His mother sounded inordinately pleased with herself. “She is so easy to throw into a tizzy; it will be quite fun to see who she gets at the last minute to round it out now.”

  “And most people consider you to be a sweet old lady,” her son said quietly.

  “Let them believe it.” She rose and started for the door, stopping just before she left the room. “In my younger years, I wanted to explore the lay of the land just a bit before I settled down. Don’t move too quickly,” she warned, “but do let her know you are there.”

  And then she exited.

  Noel folded up his newspaper and looked at the empty doorway. Today was his day to be amazed. First his valet and now his mother. He hadn’t known so many caring and wise people were in his life.

  Yardley quietly came into the room. “More coffee, Your Grace?”

  Noel looked up into his wrinkled face. “Yes, thank you, Yardley.”