The Blackmailed Beauty

by Ilene Withers

  “You wanted to see me, Father?” Willa asked with such a blasé tone to her voice no one could have suspected her insides were topsy turvy.

  “Yes, Willa, do come in and shut the door.”

  She did as her father requested and then rounded the desk to perch on its corner, rather than to sit in a chair as most young women would. “What is it, Father?” she asked him fondly.

  “I’m afraid the time has come,” he said seriously.

  “What time?” she asked.

  “For me to lose my little girl,” he said and Willa swore she saw a tear in his eye. “Your Lord Roydon stopped by this morning and asked my permission to pay his addresses to you,” he said.

  “Did he?” she asked. “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him,” her father said rather hoarsely, “he has my permission, but if he harmed a hair on your head or ever made you in the least unhappy, I would kill him and enjoy doing it.”

  “Oh, Father, I do love you so,” Willa said flinging her arms around her father’s neck. She planted a kiss on his cheek. “I promise he will make me happy so you won’t need to be so violent.” Then she left, went out the door, up the stairs and back to her room where she could sit quietly and relish the delicious thoughts of the life facing her.

  The flowers arrived in the afternoon. Dunley himself delivered up a big bouquet of roses to Willa’s room. “I thought you might like these in your chamber, Miss,” he offered.

  She read the card aloud to herself, “Willa, I need to talk to you, John.” Now she could hardly wait. She wanted him to come right now, not to wait. Instead, she began the tedious preparations for the ball. Lady Amhearst had allowed the girls to select the dresses of their choice. Trusting Molly’s opinion, they had taken the maid with them to the modiste’s. The viscountess had not accompanied them, this once. “Selecting your own ball gowns should be something you do without interference,” she said. “I trust you both implicitly.”

  While the reds and purples attracted Willa, she knew better than to select them, but when Molly approached with a length of ivory Gros de Naples, she knew it must be hers. The dress had a slightly fuller skirt than was usual. The skirt was trimmed with a deep flounce from which hung swags of small seed pearls, the bodice displayed seed pearls placed carefully one inch apart. The small puffed sleeves, the square neckline, the tiny bows on the shoulders all set off Willa’s petite frame to perfection. She wore her mother’s pearls and matching earbobs, with pearl combs holding up her ringlets. Indeed, Willa felt like a princess for the night.

  Downstairs the ball had begun before Claire and Willa made their entrance. They walked down side by side, and at the foot of the steps, their fathers took their arms and led them onto the dance floor. Willa was sure her toes did not touch the floor. In her father’s strong arms, she whirled and twirled to a waltz her mother had ordered the musicians to play. Then, as the music faded, the viscount led her to the earl.

  John took her arm. “Willa, I want to talk to you,” he said quietly. “Your father has suggested the garden as the perfect place.”

  Willa was silent as he led her out the French doors and down the flagstone steps. He stopped near a small fountain, a discreet distance from the house. There, mindless of his evening wear, he dropped onto one knee and took her hand in his.

  “Willa,” he began and then stopped to clear his throat before continuing, “I love you,” he got out. “I beg you to make me the happiest of men by consenting to take my hand in marriage.” Then he waited.

  “Oh, John,” Willa breathed. “I love you, too, and, yes! Yes, I will marry you!” He leaped from the ground and, not caring about those who might see, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. He pulled back and looked into her eyes, and she offered her lips for one more wonderful kiss when a discreet cough sounded from the patio. They both looked up.

  “It’s Father,” she said quietly.

  “I noticed,” John said with humor in his voice. “I do believe we should save more kisses for later. He told me he would kill me if I hurt you in any way, and I tend to believe him.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Willa laughed.

  “You were not there to see him, my dear,” John replied.

  ***

  Claire did not close her eyes until the first fingers of dawn slipped over the eastern horizon. She could not bring herself to sleep. Indeed, she wanted to capture the magic of the night and put it into her locket where she could wear it close to her heart for always.

  Everything about the night had been perfect – beyond perfect! She felt beautiful as she walked down the stairs with her cousin beside her. Claire was dressed in whisper thin sarcenet of the purest white. Her gown was not the latest in fashion but was a design the modiste begged her to try. Its bodice was ruched and run through with threads of silver. The elbow length sleeves were tight and straight, yet slightly puffed at the shoulders. The skirt hung in soft folds, alternately swirling around and almost clinging to her body. Threads of silver again adorned the hem. With a strand of pearls around her neck and a silver ribbon in her hair, Claire felt truly beautiful.

  Her father splurged on new eveningwear, and Claire was quite proud of him as he put all the young men to shame. “Your mother is sick of the waltz,” he whispered, “so much have I made her practice with me.”

  She danced almost every dance, but for the one directly after the waltz which Noel had claimed. He had bowed low over her hand, his eyes filled with wanting. Slipping into his arms she knew she belonged there and would never leave. At the end of the waltz, before the music drew to a close, he danced her out the garden door and onto the patio. While Claire’s heart almost stopped, he slid his gloved hand around the back of her neck and leaned in. When his lips had touched hers, warmth spread throughout her entire body and shivers of delight had raced down her spine.

  The kiss had been almost chaste and yet had filled Claire with a wildness she did not know she possessed. Had he thrown her over his shoulder and carried her off into the darkness, she would not have complained.

  It was at supper, for he had claimed the supper dance as well, when he had spoken of Lamberton Castle. “I want you to see my home,” he had begun. “In all honesty, Claire, I do hope it will someday be yours as well, but I want you to be comfortable there. It is a massive old pile of bricks, I admit. But it is the place I love and the place I will live until my dying day. I hope you can see in it what I do.”

  Maybe it wasn’t a test, then, she had thought. Could Willa be right? Might he just want her to make up her mind? The emotions ran riot throughout her and when she had seen Noel with her parents, his head bent close as they talked and laughed, then she had dared to hope.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lamberton Castle rose up from its surrounds like a battleship on a sea of green. A massive old pile of bricks, Noel called it, and it was massive. The bricks were tan, mellowed by age and stained by the weather. It was obvious the center portion of the castle was, indeed, extremely old. New wings sprouted from each side, more than doubling the size of the house.

  Willa and Claire squeezed together to look out the window of the carriage on the side facing the castle. Uncle Yale laughed at them, telling them they would get stuck and he would have to grease their heads to get them out. Aunt Blythe lectured them about manners, but her tone was light and once she craned around to see the castle from her window herself.

  The drive from the highway to the castle was surprisingly long. They dropped down into a valley and drove across a bridge before the road climbed again quite sharply to the bluff where the castle stood. Claire could see it stood on quite a large island. Indeed, the river split into two forks west of the castle before rejoining on the easterly end of the island.

  As the carriage came to a stop at the main gate, between two massive towers, the footman dropped the step and opened the door. Just as Claire stepped down, the gates opened to reveal a courtyard, and the duke came striding out to greet them.

&nbs
p; “Welcome to Lamberton Castle,” he said as he greeted each in turn. He greeted Claire last, and the reason became obvious as he tucked her arm through his and led his guests into the courtyard.

  Claire stared around her with awe. Plants and small trees filled the courtyard, interspersed with inviting benches. A large fountain stood in the center of the space so visitors walked around its pool and attractive sculpture.

  Huge double doors led to the interior of the house, and inside the hall Claire glanced around to admire the ancient beams and the walls decorated with tapestries.

  “It’s beautiful,” she told Noel, “and quite elegant.”

  “This is one of my favorite parts of the castle,” he agreed, “but it is cold and drafty and not suitable for living in. The more modern wings are where all of the rooms we use are. But I shall give you a tour of it all,” he said, “if you feel up to the exercise.”

  “Will we have time?” Claire asked with a teasing smile, causing him to laugh.

  “Only if we start early,” he confided.

  The housekeeper showed them to their rooms, and Claire found herself in the newest wing. The room overlooked one of the many gardens and was light and airy, its décor an extension of the flower garden below. Willa was next door and her aunt and uncle across the hall.

  Claire knew the house party was going to be quite large and was impressed with the number of bedchambers it would take just to house all of the guests. Yet she believed the castle might have room to spare. She was anxious to explore it.

  As they had arrived late in the day, she did not leave her chamber until it was time for dinner. Molly had traveled with them, and she had ample time to dress Claire’s hair.

  “This is a huge place, Miss Stuart,” she said.

  “It is large, is it not?” Claire agreed.

  “Why, I got lost trying to find your room. If it weren’t for a nice footman I might still be wandering through the halls.”

  Claire chuckled. “I do hope you have found your room to be acceptable,” she said knowing some of the great houses had less than adequate servants’ rooms.

  “Oh, it is. There’s so many I must share, but they put me in with a nice gel who’s seein’ to the Misses McDermott.”

  “And it won’t bother you to share?”

  “Not at all. She’s a nice country girl and friendly.”

  “Good,” Claire said.

  At night, as she descended the steps, she was quite proud of herself for finding her way down alone. Willa was not quite ready and she suggested Claire go on. As she stepped off the last stair, a footman guided her to the drawing room.

  “There you are,” Noel said as he hurried across the room to greet her. He lowered his voice as he spoke again. “You are beautiful as always,” he said.

  Several of the guests had already gathered, and Noel led her around the room. “You know many of our guests,” he said, “but I doubt you have met the Marquis and Marchioness of Garwood. They are friends of my mother’s.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Claire said after Noel introduced her. She curtsied for them.

  “What an exceptionally pretty gel you are,” the marchioness said. “Where did you find her, Lamberton?”

  “In a church, actually.” He smiled down at her as he spoke.

  They stayed for a few minutes talking with the couple, and then he excused them and led her on to where two older gentlemen stood amiably arguing by the fireplace.

  “Lord Linton, Lord Hastings,” Noel interrupted them, “I would like to introduce Miss Claire Stuart.”

  The men each bowed low over her hand in turn. “Lamberton, you old dog,” Lord Linton said. “Some people have all the luck.”

  Noel introduced her to the other guests she had not met and then led her to join the other young women who had gathered as he went to greet new arrivals.

  When all had gathered, the duchess rose from her chair and clapped her hands before picking up a small pot from the table beside her. “You have each been invited to Lamberton Castle to relax, enjoy, and have fun. Because of this, I carefully selected good friends and neighbors who I could trust to fulfill my wishes for the party. Therefore, we are breaking with etiquette each evening. I have designed some little games, which will help us mingle and get to know each other better. This evening, each lady will draw a name from this little pot. The gentleman’s name she draws will be the one who will escort her to dinner. As each couple enters the dining room, the butler will seat us in order of arrival.” The group stood rapt as she finished. “The highest ranking woman will begin the draw.”

  “What a clever idea!” Lady Garwood said. “But, Duchess, you must be first.

  Noel’s mother laughed. “Then I shall draw.” She put her hand into the pot, pulled out a small slip of paper and read it aloud. “Lord Radbert!”

  The young man left his wife’s side and hurried over to do the honors of escorting his friend’s mother to dinner.

  “Lady Garwood,” the young Marchioness of Paxton said, “please, do go next.”

  As each lady drew her name and paired with a gentleman, they left the room together. As Lucy Staples walked out on the arm of Lord Northrup, Claire looked up at Noel. He moved toward her and held out his arm for her.

  “I don’t how my mother arranged this, but I definitely approve,” he said. “I had no idea I was so lucky.”

  Claire, suspicious, ignored his arm and peeked into the little pot. There was one piece of paper left and she reached down to pick it up, thinking to keep it for her memory box. It slipped from her fingers and she tried it again. She gave it a bit of a tug and the paper tore, part of it sticking to the bottom and she began to laugh.

  “It’s been glued down,” she told Noel.

  He checked in the pot, and laughed as well. “Remind me to thank my mother for her interference.” He held out his arm again and this time Claire took it.

  Dinner was most enjoyable. Claire looked across the table with respect for the duchess. The guests laughed and talked, ignoring the rules of etiquette, which frequently caused some guests to feel left out. After the dinner, the duchess suggested they all return to the drawing room together for an evening of charades. The men, she declared, could drink their brandies there and could forgo the nasty habit of smoking.

  The second day of the party, their hostess announced she had arranged for a picnic. Fishing would be included for the gentlemen and any ladies who wished to try it. The party trooped out to the river, and there they settled in on quilts and dined on cold meats, cheeses, strawberries, and cream. John and Willa had joined Claire and Noel on a quilt spread out under an ancient oak. John had dropped off to sleep when Noel stated his intentions of teaching Claire to fish. “I am quite accomplished, you know.” He pulled her up and led her to the water’s edge.

  Claire looked at the rod a footman handed her. “I have no idea how to do this,” she said to Noel.

  “I was hoping so,” he said, “for now I can teach you like this.”

  Then he had wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her indecently close while he guided her hands into the right position on the rod. “Now up and back,” he said as he pulled her arms in the direction as he spoke, “and then flick it forward,” he finished.

  Claire watched her line fly out and land in the water. “I did it,” she said looking up to see his face dangerously and wonderfully close.

  “Don’t forget to catch some fish, Your Grace,” Claire’s Uncle Yale teased from a nearby spot on the bank.

  “This chaperone thing is beginning to get in my way,” Noel remarked as he stepped back to allow space between them.

  A much-awaited tour was the next day’s activity. The thirty guests divided into three groups by age. Her Grace led the first group, consisting of the more elderly members of the party. Their group, she declared, was to take a shortened tour ending with tea in the gardens. The next group, made up of Claire’s aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Staples, the Roxburys and others th
eir ages, were to tour only the newest portions of the castle, led by the housekeeper and ending with tea. Noel led the youngest set off to begin in the castle’s ancient main hall.

  Claire was tired by the time they finished, just in time to change for dinner. She was sure she had climbed thousands of steps, but she had fallen in love with the old building. Even the oldest portions of the house were in a safe condition. Although the rooms were mostly for show, much like a museum, they were fascinating, and she could imagine how they would come alive at night with the spirits of the past.

  The next day was quite relaxing. Most of the women enjoyed chatting while the men went fishing or hunting again. Outdoor games – archery, foot races, and lawn games – filled the fourth day. Claire was pleased with the next day’s activity as the young people were given the chance to row down the river where they would be met by carriages to bring them back. She particularly enjoyed seeing the duke’s muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he dipped the oars below the water and pulled them forward with each stroke.

  It was the evening of the fifth day, when Claire was deciding what to wear for the next day’s planned expedition to a local historical site, when a tap sounded at the door. She walked across the room to open it and found a footman standing there. “His Grace has asked me to give you this,” he held a note out, “and I am to await a reply, Miss,” he finished.

  Claire opened the note and read it. “Stay behind with me tomorrow.” She folded the note and held it tightly in her hand. “Please tell His Grace I will do as he requests.” She closed the door and leaned against it. Stay behind. She was to spend the day with Noel!

  The next day the other guests departed quite early. Claire was in the small morning parlor when Noel found her. “My mother has given me a firm lecture about chaperones,” he said. “She was so thoughtful as to provide us with one.” He stepped back to reveal a young maid. “This is Betty.”