by Wendy Vella
Daniel Stratton was a big, handsome man. He was far more serious than his friend Lord Kelkirk, yet he, too, had stirred passion in many women, both married and not.
“It never pays to let Simon know you care for him or he takes advantage of you, Claire,” the duke said. “And now, if you will excuse us, I am going to dance with my wife.”
“Of course.”
Claire watched Daniel lift Eva’s hand to his lips before placing it on his arm. Eva’s smile was soft as she looked up with her husband, and Claire could almost feel the love that flowed between them. She wanted that–a love so strong that you felt what the other half of you felt. Pain, happiness–your life was so entwined in another’s that to be parted was almost too much to bear. She saw Eva look up at Daniel, saw them share a secret smile as he swung her into his arms. Sighing, Claire turned away. They had ruined her with their love. Now she refused to settle for anything less.
Looking up, she saw him then–Lord Kelkirk–making his way through the horde of guests, stopping occasionally when someone talked to him. She supposed he was a good-looking man. It was the hair, of course–the black threaded with silver. It made him stand out from the men around him. The fact that he was tall and had a big strong body helped, too. Clothes seemed to sit on him effortlessly, and he carried himself with a natural elegance that made a person look–especially if that person was a woman. Not her, of course. Claire and Simon had drawn swords long ago and merely tolerated each other for the sake of their friends. However she was a woman, so she occasionally did look.
He wore charcoal this evening. His jacket fit him to perfection. His waistcoat was silver and blue, and with his white shirt and neckcloth, she supposed he was one of the more stylish men in attendance. As if he knew she was studying him, his eyes swung to where she stood. Claire could feel the intensity of that grey gaze even if she could not see it from here. Desperate to escape before he reached her, she sought someone to save her from the upcoming confrontation. She would need all her wits about her when that moment came, and tonight was not that night.
“Mr. Rynell, I believe this is your dance?” Claire said, placing her hand on the sleeve of the man who was standing with a group of men to her right. He stared at her open-mouthed.
“I…is it? Of course it is.” He recovered quickly; she had to give him that. Offering her a strained smile, he then led her onto the dance floor.
“Miss Belmont, if I may have a word–”
“Not now, Lord Kelkirk. As you can see, I am to dance with Mr. Rynell.” Widening her smile as much as she could without causing herself pain, Claire sailed past Simon as he scowled at her, his grey eyes narrowing as she proceeded to chatter like a new debutante to her bemused dance partner.
She danced and danced and danced. Never taking a break, Claire simply went from one partner to another until she feared her feet had blisters on their blisters. Every time she thought to stop, she would see him, Lord Kelkirk, leaning on a wall, watching her intently. She even danced with Lord Pepper, who was preening over the interest his jacket was causing. The color was so bright, she could not look at it for too long or her head started to ache.
“You must tell me the name of your wife’s tailor, my lord,” Claire said, simply because she wanted to make sure to avoid her at all costs.
“I fear she is ours exclusively, my dear, and my darling wife would be distressed, were I to give the name of the establishment to anyone.”
Claire managed to say something complimentary and tried to keep her distance from Simon, who had decided to stop staring at her long enough to partner Miss Hadfield in this dance. When it finally ended she was sure she could not dance another step, so she accompanied Lord Pepper towards a group of people she knew, and once he left, she shuffled sideways to hide behind them. Peeking over the shoulder of one of the women, she looked for Simon but could not see him. Seizing the chance to escape, she made her way towards the back of the room. Dropping her head, she bent at the knees and moved through the throng, hoping no one noticed what she was doing.
“Are you well, Miss Belmont?”
“Yes thank you, Mr. Tattler. I am looking for my mother.”
The man looked at her bent legs but said nothing further, so Claire moved on. It was not the easiest position to walk in–in fact, her thighs were starting to cramp, especially after the exercise she had just undertaken–yet she had no intention of straightening until she sought cover.
Reaching the wall, Claire straightened but kept her shoulders hunched and head lowered, and then, moving along it, she found an opening and hurried through. Looking around her, she found a door that surely led outside. Making for it, she walked through it and then another, this one opening onto the deck. With a deep sigh of relief, Claire straightened to her full height and then walked into the shadows. Perhaps all the dancing would help her to snatch a few minutes’ sleep this night, and she could forget about that note and what Anthony had left behind in France. Was this to be her season? Nights spent dancing whilst she attempted to avoid Lord Kelkirk?
“Hello, Claire. How are you this evening?” Simon said, walking through the door and moving to where she stood. He heard her indrawn breath, and then she took a step backwards and then another until she came up against the stone balustrade behind her. Simon closed the distance between them until he was directly in front of her.
He had returned Miss Hadfield to her mother after their dance, and then looked for Claire. He’d found her slipping through a door, and he’d immediately followed. She’d hoped to avoid him, but he had no intention of allowing that to happen. He had questions he wanted answered.
“Lord Kerkirk, how lovely to see you. I hope you are enjoying the evening?”
He was impressed. She didn’t stutter, although the moonlight allowed him to see how wide her eyes were, and he could hear the rasp of her breathing. “Very much, Claire, and you? How are you feeling this evening?”
Her eyes widened briefly. “Very well, thank you, my lord.”
“I had not realized you had such a love of dancing.”
“Yes, I enjoy it very much, my lord.”
“You’ve definitely hidden it well then, as before tonight I have never seen you partner so many men–one after the other without pausing for breath. Quite a testament to your stamina.”
She wanted to say something cutting but instead pressed her lips together firmly, forming a straight crease that almost folded in on itself.
“And it appears you have suffered no ill effects from looking at Lord Pepper’s waistcoat over long.”
She clamped her lips together harder.
“Excellent. Now that we have established your love of dancing and observed the correct greeting, perhaps you can tell me why you were in that lane today dressed like a servant? And why you ran into me–”
“You ran into me!”
He knew she wished to retract those words as soon as she had spoken them. But it had always been that way with them; he could provoke her into retaliation and make her lose her composure with only a few well-placed words. “Why were you in that lane alone today, Claire?”
“I have no wish to answer that or any of your questions, Lord Kelkirk.”
Simon had often wondered why she intrigued him. Most evenings he found himself searching for her in a crowded room, his eyes drawn to the sweet bow that formed her lips into a pout. Her brows were delicately arched and she usually had one elevated in a haughty manner when he was near. Simon had always thought Claire Belmont alluring. However with him she was rarely sweet; in fact, he would say she was prickly and cutting and never missed an opportunity to take him to task. She wasn’t comfortable with him and he’d never been sure why.
“I have a bruise on my chin, Claire. I think I deserve some kind of answer.”
“For that I am sorry,” she said slowly, her eyes looking at the dark mark on his jaw. “It was never my intention to hurt you.”
“Why were you in that lane today, Claire?” Simon stepped cl
oser, forcing her eyes up to meet his.
“I will not be intimidated by you, Lord Kelkirk, therefore please step back.”
She sounded calm, yet Simon saw the wariness in her eyes. “Whatever the reason, it was important enough that you had no one accompany you and had disguised yourself in old clothes. Were you collecting something or meeting someone?”
“What I do is of no concern to you, my lord, nor do I care for your line of questioning.”
She was trying to remain in control. Her hands were not clenched, nor did she betray how she was feeling in gestures, but she was scared and he didn’t like that, because to his knowledge, nothing scared her. But most of all, he didn’t like to think she was ill or suffering in any way. He had thought long and hard about what might have put her in that lane today and none of his ideas had been pleasant. “Are you sick, Claire?”
“Please, Simon, just leave this alone.”
The use of his name surprised him. She was never informal with him or anyone besides Daniel and Eva. Claire kept people at a distance and behaved at all times in the correct manner. She was the woman most mothers held up to their daughters as the pinnacle of excellence. Miss Belmont has such impeccable manners, Simon had heard mothers say to their offspring. You should try to emulate her. “I could help you if you would just tell me what’s wrong, Claire.”
She sucked in a breath at his words, which told Simon the matter was an important one to her. He touched her chin, lifting it until their eyes met. He saw the pallor of her skin in the moonlight. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes that she had tried to hide with whatever women used. He cupped her cheek, running his thumb down the satin skin, enjoying the warmth of her. “Talk to me, Claire.”
To his surprise, she briefly leaned in to him, closing her eyes on a gentle sigh.
“You look tired.”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Please, Simon, do not pursue this matter, I beg of you.”
“Claire,” he whispered. “Please tell me why you were in that lane.”
“There is nothing to tell, my lord. I was with my maid and you startled me.”
“I saw no maid.” Simon knew the moment of weakness had gone when she pushed his hand aside.
“She was in a shop,” she snapped. “Furthermore, I would be grateful if you did not continue with this line of questioning now or in the future.”
Without physically restraining her, Simon could not stop her from stepping around him, so instead, he watched her walk away and disappear back through the doors. Following a few minutes later, he saw her beside Daniel and Eva.
“Hello, Simon.”
“Daniel,” Simon said, stopping beside Claire, standing as close as propriety allowed and close enough to unnerve her.
“Good evening, Duchess.” He bowed deeply. “May I say how beautiful you are in that dress? The color is really quite something on you.”
“She may believe your compliments, were they not delivered with such a ferocious frown on your face, Kelkirk.”
Simon glared at his friend, who, in turn, lifted one eyebrow and smiled back.
“I was not scowling–I was squinting,” Simon said, wondering what had come over him. He didn’t squint. Actually, he rarely scowled either. It was Claire. She was addling his wits.
“Ah, I believe for some, loss of sight comes with age.”
“You’re older than me,” Simon snapped.
“And surprisingly, I have perfect eyesight. Perhaps I’m just aging better than you.”
They were longstanding friends, he and the Duke of Stratton, and for many years they had lived the single lives of consummate rakes. However Daniel had married Eva, and after a tumultuous beginning, they had grown to love each other very much. Watching his friend look at his wife now, his eyes full of love and devotion, Simon felt an arrow of jealousy. He’d never wanted wedded bliss, or even the companionship of marriage, yet seeing the love Daniel and Eva shared, he wondered if he’d been wrong.
“Is that a paunch?” Simon felt marginally better when the duke looked down at his stomach. Of course it was flat, yet the taunt had produced a reaction, as he’d wanted.
“And they say women are vain.”
Claire’s words gave Simon the opportunity to look at her, and he noted she had recovered fully from the momentary weakness she had shown him just minutes ago. In fact, she had that complacent smile firmly in place and was once again the impeccable Miss Belmont, and he wanted to shake her.
“Are you suggesting I’m vain, Miss Belmont?”
“Of course I am. In fact, I would go so far as saying you spend as much time on your appearance as I.”
“Daniel’s the same, Claire–he spends a ridiculous amount of time in front of the mirror tying and retying his neckcloth,” Eva said.
“No I don’t,” the duke said, looking put out. “You spend an age choosing jewelry. In fact I don’t start my dressing until you’ve reached that stage because I know it gives me a good thirty minutes to ready myself.”
“That is not true!” the duchess declared.
“Yes it is, and before this escalates, we’re dancing,” Daniel said, taking his wife’s hand and towing her towards the floor, leaving Claire and Simon alone once more.
“Do you have digestion trouble, Claire?” Simon questioned as he watched Daniel place Eva in the line across from him. “Or a delicate illness that would account for your secrecy?”
“I beg your pardon? How dare you ask me such a personal question in company.”
“I shall call upon you, then, and ask you when we are not in company.”
She didn’t show any outward signs of anger, however the glare she turned upon him would have felled the average man. “I have no wish for you to call upon me, my lord. Ever,” she added. Had anyone passed at the moment, they would have thought the very respectable Miss Belmont was merely conversing with him; she hadn’t raised her voice, nor was her body stiff. “In fact I would be quite happy if we never spoke again.”
“You wound me, Miss Belmont, and there was me thinking we were friends,” Simon drawled when he wanted to roar at her–wrap his hands around the tops of her slender arms and shake the answer from her. “And just so we’re clear on the matter of you in that lane today, I will keep asking you until you tell me why you were so upset, and more importantly, why you were there alone.”
“Why do you care?”
Simon shouldn’t have been happy to see her composure slip slightly as she hissed the words at him, but he was. “Because I think something is very wrong to have sent you there today, and I want to help.”
Panic widened her eyes, and then she blinked and regained control. “Very well. If you insist on knowing, then I must tell you. However I had given her my word.”
“Her?” Simon questioned, watching Claire closely.
“One of my maids suffers from terrible headaches, and she was bedridden today, so I offered to get her a tonic.”
Simon did not speak straightaway, instead letting the silence draw out between them. Usually he was very good at silence; even in a room filled with noise, he had a knack of using it to get people talking. However Claire was more than equal to the task. In fact, she smiled at someone passing and waved her hand before looking back at him.
“You must be very close with her to have gone to such lengths, Claire. Disguising yourself in those old, dark clothes and wandering about in that shady lane with no one to protect you. Such dedication to your staff is to be commended.” She didn’t speak, so he continued. “I wonder why you felt the need to run when you knew it was me that you had collided with?”
“I told you I had no further wish to discuss what happened today.”
One thing Simon knew about Claire Belmont was that she was scrupulously honest. In fact he’d never known her to lie until tonight. “You’re lying to me, Claire, and that only concerns me more.” Simon’s words were softly spoken but he knew she heard them.
She didn’t speak again. Inst
ead, turning on her heel, she walked away. Head high, she made her way slowly through the crowd until he could no longer see her.
CHAPTER THREE
Simon rose early the morning after the Harrison ball. Pulling on his dressing gown, he then made his way through the house and out into the gardens. The air was crisp as the new day began to dawn, and the smell of fires being stoked around him started to chase away the more earthy scents of his garden. He loved being outside; this was where he felt happiest, and if his fingers were immersed in soil, then he was even happier. Raised by his aunt and uncle, both of whom loved the outdoors and puttered in their glasshouses constantly, he had developed that love too. Simon knew about plants and herbs; he understood what grew best in the shade and what flourished in the sun. Aunt Penelope and Uncle Peter had taught him endlessly about such things, and he’d soaked up every word. Watching a plant grow that he had nurtured from a seedling was a special gift and one he appreciated more and more as he grew older.
His staff were used to him now, and rarely threw him a sideways glance as he wandered barefoot up and down the rows of plants and trees he tended. He crushed a few precious leaves in his hand and smelt the freshness that reminded him of Luxley, his estate. Dropping to his knees beside a bed of violets, he pulled a few weeds. These were his aunt’s favorites, so he had planted them for the rare occasions she visited London. This relaxed him, gave him clarity, and this was where he came when he needed to think.
Was she sick? Was Claire Belmont so sick that she had to sneak out of her house alone to get whatever it was she needed? Diseases like consumption, the slow wasting of the body that made it grow weak and fatigued, filtered through his head. She didn’t look sick; in fact, she’d looked as beautiful to his eyes as she always did. The only other option was that she had arranged to meet someone in that lane, but whom? Last night as he’d lain staring into the darkness, he had wondered if she was being blackmailed, yet he could not imagine what information anyone would have on her, as her reputation was pristine. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone, let her have her secrets and walk away?
