by Claudy Conn
She pressed her full breasts against his arm as she turned to look up at him and say something outrageously provocative. Indeed, any man would be hungry to touch such a woman.
She brushed a long ginger away from her face, and he purposely captured her fingers and put them to his lips.
She gave him a coy and inviting look, so he laughed, and bent to pick a wild tall daisy and hand it to her.
She accepted it with a warm smile, but he sighed and said, “Would that I could give you all that you want.” He felt a bit of a heel for the part he played, relieved only by the fact that he was certain she wanted no part of him.
“Ah, my Edward, my staid Edward.”
He frowned. “You were very lively last evening with your two new admirers. They are just boys, you know.”
“Ah, you disapprove,” she answered, and laughed.
“Should I not? Your manner…your behavior towards them all evening was unacceptable to me,” he said on a true note.
She put up her chin. “Don’t be nonsensical. As you said, they are boys and mean nothing to me. A bit of a flirtation is only for…a bit of fun, nothing more. ‘Tis not my fault that Randall fawns over me. The other, Richard, is not at all in earnest, you know.”
“Yes, but you encouraged them, Sheila.”
She clapped her hands. “You are sadly, madly jealous! Ah, but this is marvelous. My quiet, responsible Edward moved to such passion.”
He took her shoulders, and there was an angry glint in his clear grey eyes. “Quiet, I may be, but never doubt my earnest emotions. Sheila, my sweet, I am afraid you are missing the point.”
“And what point is that, my darling Edward,” she said, moving up against him.
“The question is, should I be? Should I be jealous?”
She smiled demurely. “Edward, you know, you and I…well, I mean to have all that life can give me, and one day I will marry the man who can make that wish come true. You, I am afraid, are not that man, but for the moment…for this beautiful summer, we can enjoy one another.”
“Sheila, you are a she-devil to play me so,” he said the words as though they were wrenched from his throat, and thought he did a rather good job of it.
She eyed him. “Yes, I am a devil. Yes, I am selfish, and in the end, you would despise me. What I need from you now is to do what I asked you to do.”
“And have I not been doing what you asked?”
“You are too slow,” she pouted.
He sighed heavily. “Put together a list of what you would like and I shall have the papers ready for your brother’s signature as soon as he arrives.”
“But I have already told you what is required,” she complained.
“That is not good enough, my dear. Orson says one thing, you another. I am not going to bother drawing up papers that won’t suit either of you,” he answered on a cold note.
“Orson? What has he to say to anything? You are not helping him, but me!”
“Well, as to that, Orson made me an interesting offer, love…very interesting,” he said on a low grim note.
She put her hands on his biceps. “And I have not?”
“I am no fool, Sheila. We will do this my way. In your next missive to me, you will outline the text of your agreement with Duncan. I will then draw up the papers and present it to him for his signature, after he has agreed to the terms. So do confer with Orson and settle on the wording.”
“Duncan will sign. Make no mistake. However, Edward, you have to manage that little favor he wants and then he will be far more generous with me. He is not mean-fisted, after all.”
“Is he not?” Edward smiled ruefully. “Well, we shall see.” He hesitated a moment. Watching her face, he could not help but say, “Now and then I marvel at your bitterness against the late viscount, Sheila. There was a time when…when I was certain you held him in great esteem.”
“Did you think that? Well, evidently you were wrong. Duncan told me what he was. Duncan told me Bret would end in wickedness, and so he did.”
“You admire your brother, Duncan?”
“I adore him. Who would not? And Duncan has such power…” Her voice trailed off.
“Power? What sort of power?”
She waved this off. “Never mind. He will be home soon enough and see if things don’t run smoothly then.” She slid her arms around his neck and whispered teasingly, “Now, Edward, show me just how much you want me.”
“Sheila, we are in full view of the house.”
She pulled away and grimaced. “You are rude, Edward, and staid, all too staid for me. I don’t know why I bother with you at all.”
He pulled her into him and said on a low note, “You will end by ruining us both.” He kissed her long and hard, and felt a primal desire rush through him. He would have to keep that in check, for this woman was in no way meant for him.
She pulled away and laughed. “Ah, my poor Edward, I have already ruined you.”
* * *
Vanessa took a shortcut through the moors on her way to Bess Widdons’ home. Her mind was in turmoil. Last evening with the viscount in her bedroom, his lips on hers, his hand on her body, she thought she would end in bed with him.
Her closest friend was married and had told her so many intriguing things about making love, as she called it. She was curious, but more than that, she was aware that she wanted the viscount in every single way a woman could want a man. She felt heat rush into her cheeks, for such thoughts were very unmaidenly.
He had, however, said something that had devastated her.
He wasn’t thinking about permanence or love. To him, she was just another conquest.
It had ended with him leaving.
She had stared at his retreating form and a lump formed in her throat, but she willed herself not to cry.
He had called her a tease. Was she a tease? Had she led him to believe that she was the sort to engage in a bedroom romp without her heart—his heart, being part of the equation?
Is that what he thought of her?
Indeed, apparently that was precisely what he thought of her.
Yes, she was a free thinking woman in a time when men ruled the world, but she believed in love. She believed that love would, in the end, make all things right and good.
She had London Seasons, she had been kissed by charmers, but that was as far as she had ever wanted to go.
She had come to a realization when the viscount had kissed her last night—she loved him. It was absurd. She didn’t even really know him. Perhaps she was just infatuated with an exciting and dashing man?
She was a virgin, waiting not just for marriage, but for love and marriage. She had been waiting for someone to make her ‘feel’, to make her care beyond her own needs, beyond her own privileged life. The viscount’s situation had opened up that world for her. She had begun by believing him innocent and wanting to right a wrong for both him and his sister. Indeed, that was how it had begun.
Now…now, it was greater than a cause and it hurt to think she was no more than another conquest to him.
He was not a passing fancy for her.
He was not just an exciting, handsome cavalier.
Oh no, what had she done? She had fallen for a rogue of a man. She would have given herself to him last night had he not opened his stoopid, stoopid mouth!
As she rode, tears started in her eyes.
She brushed them away with her gloved fingers and chided herself.
He didn’t love her.
So be it. However, she still was going to find a way to clear his name!
Before her lay the Widdons’ home. She would not be put off this time. She would find and speak to Bess Widdons!
* * *
A tall girl, whose unwieldy form had never softened into grace with experience or age, stared out the window. Her limbs were thin and too long for her body. Her features were gaunt, her nose sharp, and her eyes, which could have been her finest point, were too often veiled in wistful sadness.
> Her address was quiet, and shrinking.
Her appearance had not affected her when she was in school in Cornwall with her dear friend, Melony. No, that only happened afterwards when her father sent her off to finishing school. There, she found she was often the object of hurtful jests and cruel whispers—whispers she knew she was meant to hear.
In spite of this, she had always been aware that she was a princess in her father’s world. Indeed, and her father’s world was financially successful. She knew how much he adored her and how he wanted her to have anything she wished.
Bess Widdons knew her father prided himself on his mill, his home, and his family—much in that order, though he often put her before her siblings.
Her father’s mill had grown over the years and now lay in a horseshoe pattern around a house that had steepled from a one room cottage to a three story structure. She loved to hear him talk about business, as she found she was not only interested in the mill, but had a good business sense and had now and then offered him a suggestion, which he took and instituted.
It was she, with all her reading, that had brought his attention to the Cartwright’s wool-combing machine. He couldn’t praise her enough, for it was because of this machinery his mill prospered and grew.
He had erred when he sent his Bess off to the finest finishing school. It was there that she encountered the prejudice and mean-spirited cruelties that had lowered her self-esteem.
She had hated that school and when she was due to return, she feigned illness and actually refused to go back.
Her mother whispered in her father’s ear and she was allowed to remain in Cornwall…with Melony.
She sighed sadly, for now Melony, her one true friend, was gone.
She was the daughter of a tradesman, which meant the aristocracy would never accept her, and as her father was wealthy, the daughters of farmers looked enviously at her pretty gowns and snubbed her. Only Melony had taken her by the hand. Only Melony had heard her deepest feelings and told her about her own.
Smile, Bess, smile, was Melony’s mantra whenever they got together, and how she had laughed and giggled and smiled in Melony’s warm and loving friendship.
Melony told her she had beautiful auburn hair. Melony said her eyes would one day slay a beau and bring him to his knees. Melony would say all she needed was a little meat on her bones to fill out her gowns. Only Melony was her friend.
She had loved Melony Fry. A sob caught in her throat and she went outdoors and walked determinedly down the dirt road. Melony loved heather. She would pick some and put it at her gravesite.
A sound made her look up as she filled her arms with heather and she saw an angel, a golden angel, or so she appeared with the sun’s rays shining over her.
Lady Vanessa said, “Oh, hallo, I am sorry. Did I startle you?”
There was a friendliness in the smile that cowered Bess into shyness. “No, well, only a little…” She eyed the woman’s horse and added, “Your horse is beautiful.”
* * *
Ness laughed and patted her mare’s neck before dismounting and saying, “She is, isn’t she, though, perhaps not to some. I chose her when she was an ‘ugly duckling’ foal, all spotted and gangly. Beauty, I think, is truly what we see when we look past the façade. I loved the filly for what I saw inside her.” Ness put out her hand. “At any rate, I think she is lovely and how kind of you to agree.”
Bess Widdons took Ness’s hand and blushed as Ness introduced herself. Ness saw at once that she would have to set the woman at ease and immediately began talking. “Yes, I was sent down with my brother and cousin by my parents…to stay with Lady Penrod.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I got into something of a scrape in London. I am a rule breaker, you see. ‘Tis forever landing me in the suds.”
Bess laughed. “Surely not? Why…you are too…”
“Ah, do not be fooled by my fashion. ‘Tis more my mother’s choosing than mine. If it were up to me, I would wear breeches and loose shirts and…”
Bess giggled. “Oh, you are a rule breaker.”
“And you?”
“Oh, I am Bess Widdons. My father owns the mill and while he is quite wealthy and perhaps wields some power in this town, we are not nobility and I am afraid I could never weather the storm if I were to break the rules.”
Ness touched her arm. “No, I quite know that and deplore it. I am forever at odds about the class system the aristocracy protects here in our wonderful Albion.”
“You are different, aren’t you?” Bess said with a smile. “My friend was bright and full of life like that…” Her voice trailed off.
“Your friend?” Ness asked gently.
“Indeed, my friend, Melony Fry. My parents and brothers don’t wish me to speak of her, as she was a bit…wild, but she was my dearest friend.”
“And now?” Ness asked softly.
“She was murdered,” Bess said with a catch in her throat. “Horribly murdered.”
“Oh…oh no, I had heard something about a terrible incident hereabout.” Ness felt awful, for she knew she would have to pretend she knew nothing. “Don’t speak of it. There is no need to return to the pain of losing your friend.”
“No, it feels freeing to speak of her. I can’t, you see…not with anyone at home, and I don’t really have anyone else to speak to.”
“Ah, but I am just a stranger.” Ness sat on a fallen log.
“And yet…you feel comfortable,” Bess said, sitting beside her.
“Good, you know, I should like you to come up to Penrod Tower with me. Millie says my hair needs a trim, and I think you could use one as well. It will be ever so much fun. Oh, I am so happy I ran into you today.”
“I would love that. Melony was always telling me that she needed to sit me down and style my hair. She wanted to fatten me up as well…I can’t believe she is gone.”
“You said she was murdered? Do they know who murdered her?”
“They think they do, but they are wrong,” Bess said on a whisper. “But my brother, Joseph, says I must not speak of it. He says it might put me in danger.”
“Then do not speak of it,” Ness said at once.
“But I am doing my friend a disservice. Her murderer should be caught,” Bess said.
“Yes, he should be. I heard tell the Viscount of Montlaine was accused?” Ness said gravely.
“Yes, and he was innocent. I feel for his sister.”
“I have heard she is missing and the Echworths are looking for her.”
“You know, Lady Vanessa,” Bess said.
“Ness,” she returned hurriedly. “Lady Vanessa is far too formal.”
“Ness then, I am not a fool. I know someone came looking for me yesterday and that my family kept that someone away. Was that you?”
“Yes, yes, it was,” Ness admitted.
“Because you want to know what I know…so you come pretending an extended hand in friendship.” Bess sounded mortified.
“No, I wasn’t pretending. Bess, I want us to be friends. That has naught to do with the fact that I would like to clear the viscount’s name.”
“Because you are a friend to Mary of Montlaine? I would think she is too young to have traveled in your circle?”
“No, not because I am her friend. I told you the truth. I don’t really know her. I want to prove him innocent and find the real murderer and bring him to justice. I don’t believe in witches and warlocks and because it is the right thing to do!”
Bess studied Ness for a long pause and said, “I like you, Lady Vanessa.”
“Ness, do call me Ness, it is what my friends and family call me and I believe you and I are going to be friends for a very long time.”
Bess eyed her as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing and said softly, “Very well then, as you please, Ness, I don’t think I can tell you much, but I shall endeavor to answer your questions as best I can.”
“Indeed, very often we hear or see or are told something that doesn’t m
ean much to us at the time. But later as we examine it, ah, then perhaps it can come together to suggest something we had not thought was important, but in actuality really is.”
Bess smiled. “Oh dear, you are something of a sleuth, aren’t you?”
“There it is,” Ness said. “That pretty smile I was sure you had in you.”
“Melony used to tell me that.” Bess sighed. “You…don’t have my experiences and cannot imagine how treacherous people are. Beautiful people are like that. Melony was beautiful and didn’t see past lies and deceit. She simply believed what she was told. She expected everyone to be as kind as she was.”
“I know this will be painful for you, Bess, but the vicar seemed to believe that your friend, that Melony was involved in a demon’s cult. Did you know about it?”
“Yes, yes, as was I,” Bess sobbed.
Ness put her arm about the girl’s thin shoulders. “There, there…I am so sorry. I did not mean to make you cry.”
“Oh, my lady…Ness, I have kept it to myself for…so long. We…I didn’t know how it would turn out, you see. We did it for a lark…only a lark. We never believed all the nonsensical things the man, who called himself the Master, told us. Then Melony changed. She became withdrawn and when I pressed her about it, she said that the Master and she had become lovers.” Bess grabbed Ness’s hands. “You must not think badly of her. I know people in town thought she had many lovers, but she didn’t. She had never been with anyone ever before. She was lively and had a lust for life that gave the impression…but she was a virgin.”
“I don’t think badly of her. Why should I? She fell in love and he took advantage of her. It happens too often and the blame is always put at the woman’s door. No, I don’t fault your friend. But tell me, who was this Master?”
“I…I don’t know,” Bess said, not meeting Ness’s gaze.
“How is that?”
“None of us knew who he was, as he always wore his hood and a face mask…a grotesque face mask. We thought perhaps it was the viscount, but one night I ran an errand in town for my mother. I dropped off a length of material at a friend’s of hers. That was when I saw the viscount at the window, seated at the round table with a group of his cronies…in the Red Tavern. When I left town, I was late and rushed to go directly to the hill where the coven always met, only to tell Melony that I couldn’t join them that evening, as I had to get home. The Master was already there. You see, the viscount could not have gotten there before me. I confronted Melony about that the next day and she laughed and asked me why I ever thought the Master was the viscount. So, yes, I knew it wasn’t the viscount and I also knew she was carrying the Master’s child.” Bess covered her face. “I should have said something…I should have tried to expose the Master by telling someone…by the time he took Melony’s innocence, I knew in my heart he was really evil. He was even sleeping with some of the other girls in our group. I should have done something because I saw Melony become more and more withdrawn. She lost that liveliness that had always been so much a large part of who she was. I…”
