The Blackmailed Beauty Read online

  “I’ve an idea,” his mother said softly.

  Noel glanced up at her with weary and bloodshot eyes. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Why don’t you get a good night’s rest and then leave for the country in the morning. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and perhaps, it will work its magic with Miss Stuart. If not, you will at least be able to take out your emotions on the dirt. Plant a few bulbs, dig around a bit. You’ll feel better.”

  Noel grimaced at his mother. “Sometimes, Mama, you are brilliant.” He rose to stride across to her, dropped a kiss upon her brow, and left the room.

  “You smell like a distillery!” his mother’s voice called out after him.

  ****

  Willa woke up early and went to fetch Claire for their morning ride. She stepped into the hall just as Molly was leaving her cousin’s room.

  “Is Claire up?” she asked the maid.

  “She’s awake, Miss, but says she has an awful headache. I left the drapes pulled and am going to fetch her some willow bark tea.”

  “Oh, poor Claire,” Willa replied. Not wanting to disturb her she decided to ride alone. She requested her horse and insisted only one groom accompany her. Once she mounted, she walked toward the entrance to Rotten Row musing about what was actually wrong with her cousin.

  The sound of horse’s hooves came from behind, and soon a rider passed her on a big black stallion. She checked and then double-checked. It was the Duke of Lamberton she was sure. It was but seconds before a man driving a curricle drove past. The vehicle sported the Lamberton coat of arms on its side, and the seat beside the driver had two valises on it.

  She shrugged it off and entered the park. Once in the gates, Willa gave her horse an extra bit of rein and urged him forward. The wind felt good in her face, and she was bending lower to race faster when she heard her name called.

  “Miss Dutton!”

  Willa reined in her mount and glanced around.

  “Miss Dutton!” It was the Earl of Roydon. Willa smiled. Not only did she view him as a friend, but also she thought he might know something about the scene the duke had caused at Almack’s the previous night. She had missed seeing him slam his fist into a pillar as she was following Claire, but when they had returned to the ballroom, everyone had been agog with talk of it. Timed as it must have been, directly after her cousin had fled the room, Willa could not help being suspicious.

  “Good morning, Lord Roydon,” she greeted him. “Isn’t it a beautiful day out?”

  “Yes, it is, Miss Dutton. Where’s your companion?”

  “My cousin is suffering from the headache this morning,” she offered.

  “Do give her my regards. I hope she is feeling better soon.”

  “Shall we ride for a bit?” Willa asked, hoping he would consent to join her.

  “I was hoping you would ask,” he admitted as he guided his horse into place beside hers.

  “Is your friend all right this morning?” Willa asked, unable to think of another way to get her questions answered. “He left the assembly rooms suddenly it seems.”

  “Yes, he did,” the earl agreed. He said nothing more for a bit, and then he shifted in the saddle slightly so he saw her more directly. “Miss Dutton, may I confide in you and trust it will stay a secret?”

  Willa didn’t answer right away. When people did so it usually meant they would wag their tongues immediately. Instead, she considered it, decided she could keep a secret, and looked him squarely in the eye as she answered. “Yes, you can.”

  The earl took a long drawn breath and seemed to consider what he was to say before he spoke. “Lamberton is attached to your cousin. Yet Miss Stuart does not appear to feel the same way. I believe he is particularly frustrated because she sometimes seems eager to get to know him and at others, such as last night, she is quite cool toward him.”

  “I have thought so myself,” Willa admitted. “And it is unlike Claire. She is usually so kind and sweet. Normally she’s quite a joyful person.”

  “I suspected such,” the earl said. “Glimpses of it shine through. The night we were at Roxbury’s for instance, we could not help but see that side of her. And when I danced with her last evening, she was quite amiable, if somewhat quiet. I admit I could get few words from her.”

  They rode in silence for a distance. “It is quite a conundrum,” Willa said. And then, “I thought I saw the duke ride past me this morning followed by his curricle driven by someone who I thought might be a servant.”

  “Yes. I stopped by to see if he would like to come for a ride, but his mother saw me and told me he has gone to his estate for a time. She did not say why. I asked if there had been an emergency, and she said there had not been.”

  “Hmm. It does appear odd,” Willa said. “The season is just getting off to a good start.”

  “Yes,” the earl replied. “I thought about riding after him, but there are times a man needs to be alone.”

  “I believe I shall make some discreet inquiries,” Willa said decisively. “Perhaps I can get the truth out of my cousin.”

  “And I, too, shall ask about,” he said. “Mayhap we could take a drive in the park say, two days hence, and report what we find to each other.”

  “What an excellent idea,” Willa said. “I would enjoy it.”

  They parted ways afterward and Willa, followed closely by her trusted groom, made her way back home. In the breakfast room, she found only her father. He had finished eating but was enjoying another cup of coffee.

  “Good morning, Father,” she greeted him.

  “Good morning, Darling,” he said in return, accepting the kiss on his cheek as his due. “Been out for a ride?” he asked.

  “Yes. I met up with Lord Roydon and we rode together for a bit.”

  “Did he have anything interesting to say?” the viscount asked her.

  “Yes, I found out the duke has left town.”

  “That’s interesting.” Willa noticed her father’s eyebrows had shot up as they did when something caught his interest.

  He picked up the paper and opened it, hiding his face from her view. She waited a moment, taking a few sips of tea and a bite or two of bacon. Then she reached over with one hand and pulled the corner of the paper back so she could peer around it. “What do you know, Father?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked innocently. Too innocently.

  “I mean, there is something going on between Claire and the duke. Perhaps you do not know this, but your niece refused to dance with the duke at Almack’s last night. Instead she tore out of the room as if the hounds of perdition were at her heels.”

  “Young lady, watch your language,” he admonished with a slight grin.

  “Father, you taught it to me,” she answered, winking cheekily at him, and then returned to her train of thought. “I followed her and found her in tears in the ladies’ retiring room. She insisted she was just overset from the excitement but, frankly, I didn’t believe her.”

  “Hmmm,” her father said thoughtfully. “Anything else?”

  “I heard the duke caused a bit of a scene. No one seems to have noticed Claire, but after she left, he slammed his fist into a pillar and then left the building.”

  “Hmm,” was her father’s comment.

  “Father, you do know something. Do tell, please!”

  “I was in White’s in my favorite chair behind a potted palm when he came in. He ordered a bottle of brandy and sat down to consume it. It was obvious to me he wanted to be left alone so I settled in to read my paper. Lord Paxton came in and sat with him for a bit. Paxton asked Lamberton if he was having woman troubles and hinted it might be his, uh,” he paused.

  “His mistress, Father?”

  “You shouldn’t know about such things.”

  Willa rolled her eyes. “Oh, do go on,” she said in exasperation.

  “All right, Paxton asked if it was an opera singer.”

  “And what did the duke reply?” Willa asked, enthralled with the tal
e.

  “His exact words were, ‘No, it’s a vicar’s daughter.’”

  “I knew it,” Willa said. “The duke is in love with our Claire.”

  “But she is not in love with him,” the earl replied.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Willa suggested. “Sometimes I think it would take only the slightest nudge, but then again, there are times I believe there is no hope.”

  Chapter Nine

  Noel breathed a sigh of relief when they left the city traffic behind. Giving his stallion its head, he urged the beast forward leaving Knox to make his own way. The landscape flew by as he covered ground as he had never done before. He was aware of the danger of it, but anger and heartbreak filled his soul and, at the moment, he could have cared less whether he lived or died.

  Life without Claire held little more prospect than death. People said, with time, one got over such things, but Noel was not so sure. If it was only a matter of time, as John would say, why were there so many bitter and lonely people in the world?

  He did not slow his horse’s speed, but the animal did so itself, it’s flanks moving in and out quickly, its nostrils flared. Noel did not push his horse again, but allowed it to come to a walk.

  He stopped at an inn midday and then only for the sake of his horse. Paying the ostler to care for the stallion, he went inside, sat at the bar, and ordered a pint.

  “The missus has a good pigeon pie in the back,” the barkeep said. “Care for a slice to go with the mug?”

  Noel was not hungry but was aware he ought to eat if he was going to drink, remembering his sore head of the day before. “Perhaps a small slice,” he replied.

  “Comin’ right up,” the other man said, obviously anxious to serve such quality.

  Indeed, the piping hot pie appeared quickly. Noel took a bite of it. It was surprisingly good. Most times such a pie was greasy and filled with lard, but not so this one.

  “How d’ya like it, guv’nor?” the man asked.

  “Give your wife my regards,” Noel answered, “it’s the best I’ve eaten in a long while.”

  “She’ll be right pleased,” the man said. “She’s a hard workin’ woman, and I can’t complain at all, but I do feel I haven’t offered her a good life. I like to compliment her when I can.”

  Noel glanced up. “If you find a good one and you manage to make her yours you’d better keep her happy,” he agreed.

  “Yep. You married?”

  “No,” Noel said, “and on this day I’d say I don’t expect to be.”

  “Well, what a shame. You look like a fine gent.”

  “Yes, it is a shame,” Noel almost whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” the older man said, “I can see I’ve struck a sore spot. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. How about another pint on the house?”

  Noel let the man refill his mug while he finished off the pigeon pie. “Don’t worry about it,” he assured the man, “you had no way of knowing.”

  “Mebbe not, but I do still feel bad.”

  The man didn’t pry anymore, and when Noel left, he gave him an ample tip. “Buy your wife something nice,” he said. The other man picked up the coin. “I will, and many thanks to ya.”

  After leaving the inn, Noel found his horse appeared well-rested and ready to run again. “Got some oats in you did you, old boy?” he asked him affectionately rubbing his nose. The horse whinnied softly back.

  He stopped at dark at a convenient roadside inn. It wasn’t the kind of place he would normally stay, but he didn’t care today. His room was clean but small, and the evening meal was edible. A flirtatious barmaid approached him to refill his mug. “Care for some company tonight, love?” she asked bending over just enough to give him a good view of her ample bosom.

  He rejected her offer. He had no taste for any woman but Claire.

  He arrived home in good time the next day. Although he was not expected, his staff acted as though he had never left. Dinner appeared on the table in perfect time, fires were burning in the grates, and not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere.

  Blessedly tired after his long ride, Noel fell into bed. He undressed himself and, the next morning, rang for a footman only for hot water. Knox would arrive in the afternoon, and he could do for himself until then.

  Noel spent the day riding the fields, admiring the neat rows of crops, which had popped up since he had left. He walked through his hothouses and found all as he expected it to be. The gardens, too, were in perfect form. There was nothing for him to do, and so he called for his horse and rode off to the west.

  Captain Asbury lived in an old monastery on land which bordered Noel’s estate. He was an elderly man, no doubt well beyond his seventieth year. A sea captain, he had sailed the high seas for many a decade, and lost a leg and an eye in a scuffle with another ship. After making his fortune, he eventually returned to the landlocked English countryside to live out his years in the same home in which he came into the world. A confirmed bachelor, he was also a mean chess player.

  “My boy,” he shouted enthusiastically when the stooped butler announced Noel, “do come in. Have a seat. What brings you back to these here whereabouts?”

  “I had to get away for a while,” Noel said as he sat in the chair next to the Captain.

  “If I was in London town, I’d have to get out for a long time,” he said with an understanding grin. “I see you managed to drop in right at tea time.”

  “Mrs. Scott have any of those cakes today?”

  The old man leaned closer to Noel and grinned, displaying a gaping space where one front tooth had once been. Another tooth bore a gold overlay.

  “Mrs. Scott always keeps those cakes around, my boy, which is what I pay her for.” He leaned back in his chair, banged his wooden leg on the floor and let out a yell, which had been quite effective in raising the sailors up from the belly of the ship. “Donaldson!”

  The butler appeared instantly. “Yes, Captain?”

  “Tea and cakes, man,” the captain ordered, “or better yet, whiskey and cakes!”

  The servant bowed and disappeared, and the captain reached over with one gnarled hand to pat Noel’s arm. “You look terrible, son,” he commented, “what have you been up to?”

  “Falling in love,” Noel said, aching to confide in someone.

  “Well, I’ll be! I expected it would happen soon enough. Once those fillies set their eyes on you, you were sure to be a goner.”

  “That’s the problem,” Noel said, “I set my eyes on one of those fillies, and she turned tail and ran.”

  Captain Asbury looked surprised. “Surely not!”

  “As sure as the sun will rise in the east,” Noel replied.

  “What is she, some kind of mad woman?”

  “No,” Noel answered, “she’s quite perfectly sane.”

  “She young?”

  “No more than any of them.”

  “She filthy rich?”

  “She’s a vicar’s daughter. I doubt her dowry is even worth thinking about.”

  “She got her heart set on someone else?"

  “Not anyone obvious.”

  The old man rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, “There must be somethin’ goin’ on,” he said.

  “I wish I knew,” Noel added.

  The tea tray came and the butler poured them each a whiskey from the crystal decanter and put a few cakes on two surprisingly dainty plates, setting them between the men. Noel bit into one. “Maybe I’ll just forget about her and marry Mrs. Scott,” he suggested, purposely trying to rile the old man.

  “No you won’t, you young whippersnapper!” And then, “Go fetch the chess board, Noel. I haven’t had a good game since you left.”

  Noel got royally stomped. Leaning back once again, Captain Asbury contemplated him with his one good eye, his glass eye staring uncannily past Noel’s head. “I’ve been thinkin’, which I had plenty of time to do during this pathetic game you played, and there’s nothin’ for it but fer you to go back and fight fer
her.”

  “I came home to, as my Mama put it, let her heart grow fonder by absence.”

  “Not a bad idea. Not at all,” the old man agreed. “The duchess ain’t no stupid woman. But don’t give it too long before you high tail it back to town to fight fer her. Let her know just what you’re made of, boy. Throw her over your shoulder and sail away with her.”

  Noel laughed. Why did he have a sense the Captain had experience with just that?

  “I just might,” he said.

  ****

  Claire left her room toward evening the day after the horrible scene in Almack’s. She was miserable still, but her head did not ache. Her heart, however, was another matter. In fact, she was horribly upset with herself for treating the duke as she did. Yet, she had felt she had no choice, and she did not believe anything had changed.

  Upon quiet reflection, Claire had decided her family was more important to her than anything or anyone else. Had it just been her reputation at stake she would not have worried. It would have been unpleasant if society shunned her, but it would not have mattered nearly as much as knowing her family would suffer because an evil man had attacked her.

  She entered the drawing room in time for tea and was happy to see they had no visitors. Her uncle, aunt, and cousin were the only ones present.

  “Are you better, Claire?” her aunt asked, worry reflected in her voice.

  “Some,” she said. “Perhaps tea will revive me.” She sat next to Willa and accepted the cup Aunt Blythe passed over.

  “We were just saying we could easily cancel our evening plans,” her aunt said, “if you’re not up to them.”

  Claire would have loved to say yes, but the fact was she had only a few more weeks to try to capture the earl’s heart, and she dare not waste a single opportunity. “No,” she answered her aunt, “please do not. I have been looking forward to the theatre, and I will be fine. It’s not as if it will be as crowded and hot as a ball.”

  “There’s my girl,” Uncle Yale said.