by Nan Ryan
“That lying bitch in there—”
“Save your breath, you pompous pervert,” Charmaine cut him off. “I know who the real liar is here. Say one word about this to that handsome young man in there and your vapid little wife will know about your quartet of blondes and what you have planned for them.” He started to speak. She thrust out her arm and pointed to his waiting carriage. “You heard me, Wardley. You have the title, but it’s Beatrice’s fortune. She’d cut you off without a farthing. Now leave quietly and don’t come back.” She laughed merrily then and said, “By the way, you have gravy on your vest, Dr. Clean.”
She turned and hurried back inside. She stepped into the drawing room and asked, “Will there be anything else, Your Grace?”
“No, thank you, Claire,” Claire said, and thanking the duchess with her eyes, added, “that will be all for this evening.” Then she cleared her throat needlessly and added, “Mr. Cassidy and I were just leaving to take a drive.”
“How lovely.”
“Ah…there are some household matters I will need to discuss with you at first opportunity.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The duchess nodded. “Whatever’s convenient for you.”
Thirty-Five
“It’s cool this evening, almost chilly. Why not scoot over a little closer to me?” Hank coaxed as he and Claire drove slowly down busy, lamp lit Broadway.
Claire started to decline, but changed her mind when, stuck in traffic directly in front of the Grand Union Hotel, she saw Caroline Whit coming down the steps on the arm of Parker Lawson. Claire quickly moved closer, possessively looped her arm around Hank’s and pressed her head to his shoulder.
“Now that’s more like it,” he said with a boyish grin. “I never want you too far away from me.”
Claire peered around him and caught the frown that came to Caroline’s face, and the false smile that immediately followed.
“Good evening, Duchess, Hank,” Caroline merrily called out, hurrying down the steps, dragging the reluctant Parker with her.
Hank turned his head and acknowledged them. “Caroline. Parker. Nice to see you.”
“I’ve a marvelous idea,” Caroline said, stepping up to the carriage, gazing only at Hank, “Why don’t the four of us retire to the Congress Inn and have a nightcap?”
“Thanks. Some other time,” Hank said.
“Hank’s promised to take me for a drive in the moonlight,” Claire needled.
“But it’s so early,” Caroline said. “You can take a drive later. Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, there are clouds rolling in from the east. Looks like it might rain soon.” She playfully plucked at the sleeve of Hank’s suit jacket. “You don’t want to get caught out in a summer storm. Let’s all have some drinks and some laughs and—”
Interrupting, Parker Lawson said, “Caroline, can’t you see they don’t want company?” He took her arm and drew her back away from the carriage.
The traffic began to move. The carriage rolled away, leaving the disappointed Caroline behind, muttering under her breath.
“You’re wasting your time, Caroline,” Parker told her. “Cassidy only has eyes for the duchess.”
Caroline yanked her arm free of his grasp. “I know Hank Cassidy. He’ll tire of her and I’ll have him yet, you’ll see. One way or the other.”
“Could be. Until then, let’s go to the bar in the United States Hotel and drink ourselves silly.”
“Caroline wants you,” Claire said as they reached the end of Broadway and began to move away from the traffic.
“I want you,” he said without turning his head. “Nobody else. Just you.”
“Hank, that’s so sweet,” she said and meant it. She tipped her head back and looked up at the night sky. A few high clouds had appeared on the eastern horizon and were slowly drifting closer. “Perhaps Caroline is right—it looks like we might get a few sprinkles within the hour.”
“I don’t think so,” Hank said, gazing at the full white moon shining high overhead. He grinned and added, “I’ve asked the heavens to hold off any rainfall until we’re back at the cottage later tonight.”
“Oh, well, then it’s settled,” she said with a laugh.
They rode for a time in companionable silence, the sights and sounds of Saratoga quickly fading in the distance behind them. Hank took the road leading up to the lake, but turned off well before reaching the main body of water.
He stopped the carriage in among the tall pines. He grabbed the green-and-white lap robe from the back of the seat, came around, lifted Claire down, and took her hand. He led her through the trees, explaining that he had a secret place he wanted to show her, that he’d been saving it for a special occasion.
Such as tonight.
Claire felt her heart squeeze in her chest.
In and out of the moonlight they ducked, half of the time bathed in silver brilliance, the other half swallowed up in total blackness.
At last they stepped out into a grassy moonlit clearing and Claire was awed by the breathtaking panorama before them. They stood on a high cliff above a wide inlet of the lake. Fifty feet below, the foamy water lapped at the wall of sheer rock. Lights winked from across the lake and romantic music from a dance pavilion outside Moon’s intermittently drifted across the water.
“Hank, it’s beautiful. Breathtaking. I’m so glad you brought me here tonight.”
Sinking to his knees to spread the lap robe out on the soft grass, Hank said, “I thought you’d like it.”
When she walked closer to the cliff’s rim, she heard him say in a tense voice, “Don’t get too close to the edge, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
But you’re going to lose me, darling. We’re going to lose each other. Claire turned back. Hank, still on his knees smoothing out the spread robe, put out his hand. She took it. She stood above, leaned down, cupped his face in her hands, and looked into his smoldering eyes. Hank raised his hands to her waist. He slowly drew her to him.
“Kiss me,” he said, his head tipped back, hands clasping her waist. “Kiss me, baby.”
“I will,” she murmured and slowly sank to her knees to face him. She put her arms around his neck and lifted her face to his.
When her lips were a few scant inches from his own, Hank hesitated. A muscle working in his jaw, he looked at her for a long silent moment and Claire wanted to weep. In the flashing depths of his beautiful eyes was all the love, passion, and promise of commitment a woman could ever hope for.
Hank brushed his lips to hers, whispered her name and then kissed her.
They kissed kneeling there in the moonlight high above the lake and while Hank’s smooth warm lips covered and conquered hers so sweetly, Claire anxiously pressed herself against him, achingly aware that this would be the last night she would ever be in his embrace.
Her eyes closed, her heart throbbing, she gloried in the feel of the powerful arms wrapped tightly around her and the hard muscled chest pressed against her breasts.
It was a night and a kiss she would never forget.
When finally their lips separated, Hank continued to hold her and he said, “I’m glad we’re kneeling, not standing. My knees are weak.”
She smiled. “Mine, too.”
“Let’s sit down.”
“All right.”
Hank loosened his arms and released her. Claire sat back, crossed her legs under her and carefully spread her long skirts around her feet. Hank sat down facing her and he too crossed his legs beneath him.
He took her hand in his, held it, reached into his trousers pocket and withdrew a small velvet box.
He leaned forward and kissed her again. Then he took a deep breath, raised her hand up to his heart and said, “Feel how fast my heart is beating.” Claire pressed her fingers to the firm wall of his chest and felt the rapid heavy thudding against her palm. He gently moved her hand away.
And then he totally caught her off guard when he said, “I love you, sweetheart. I’ve never said those w
ords to anyone else, I swear it. I’m in love with you. Deeply, wildly, everlastingly in love with you. Marry me, Charmaine. Marry me.” Hank flicked open the velvet box and held it up for her to see. The flawless brilliant cut diamond glittered blindingly in the bright moonlight. “I want to take you back to Nevada with me,” he told her. “I want you to be my wife, the mother of my children, my companion in old age.”
“Hank, I…”
“Say, yes, sweetheart. Marry me.”
Knowing what she had to do, Claire called up all the resolve she could manage, laughed softly then, and said, “Why, Hank Cassidy, I’m disappointed in you. Remember how we said—”
“I know what we said,” he interrupted, dropping the box and the diamond into her lap and taking hold of her upper arms. “I never meant for this to happen, but I’m in love with you and I believe you love me, too. This is not just a summertime affair, it’s the love of a lifetime and we both know it.”
As he spoke, his handsome face began to slowly disappear into enveloping darkness as high overhead a storm cloud slowly passed over the moon, blotting out the radiant light. Claire felt the first drops of rain pepper her head.
Hank never noticed the rain.
From out of the inky blackness, he said, “You don’t want to live in Nevada? Fine. I’ll go to England with you. I’ll go anywhere with you. I love you, Charmaine Beaumont, with all my heart and if you’ll agree to marry me, I’ll do everything in my power for the rest of my life to make you happy.”
The rain began to fall in earnest as jagged summer lightning streaked across the darkened sky and the following thunder rumbled ominously.
“We better get out of the rain,” Claire said and started to get up.
“To hell with the rain,” Hank said, catching her wrist and stopping her. He pulled her back down and said, “Did you hear me? I said I love you and I want to marry you.” Anxiously, he searched for the dropped velvet box, took the diamond from it, and again held it up to her.
But there was no longer any light for it to reflect off of. The stone was as dark as his face. Hank shoved the ring onto his little finger, clasped Claire’s upper arms and said, “I love you, darling. I love you.”
Her face wet with rain, Claire drew a shallow breath and was grateful for the darkness when she said resolutely, “That, I’m afraid, is your misfortune.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, his hands gripping her upper arms so tightly his fingers were cutting into the flesh, the rain plastering his dark hair to his head. “You love me, too, I know you do. Say it. Tell me you love me as I love you.”
A flash of lightning illuminated Claire’s wet face. “You’re wrong, Hank,” she lied, tears mixing with the rain. “I’m fond of you, of course, and we’ve had a lovely time, but—”
“Damn you, Charmaine Beaumont, look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t love me.”
Claire squared her shoulders and, her heart breaking, looked directly into his flashing eyes. The rain pounded them, soaking their clothes and drenching their hair. As the lightning flashed overhead, she said, loudly enough to be heard above the cloudburst, “I do not love you, Hank. I’m very sorry.”
Thirty-Six
At just after midnight a morose Claire was packing when a soft knock came on the suite’s door.
Claire braced herself to face the fully warranted wrath of the woman whose identity she had stolen. She crossed to the door, drew a spine-stiffening breath, and opened it.
The Duchess of Beaumont asked, “May I come in?” Then she grinned impishly and added, “Oh, I forgot, this is my home isn’t it?”
Nodding, tears threatening in her sad violet eyes, Claire said, “Your Grace, I owe you my most humble apology. I will forever regret what I’ve done and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. You won’t believe this and I cannot blame you, but the truth is I have never done anything like this before. I am ashamed of myself and I know that I deserve any punishment you deem necessary.”
“Well, I should think so,” said the duchess, but her eyes gleamed with merriment. “Obviously you were not expecting me.” Claire said nothing, just shook her head. The duchess laughed then and said, “I wasn’t supposed to show up until tomorrow evening, but I’m so glad I arrived a day early and didn’t miss out on all the fun.”
Claire didn’t share the other woman’s mirth. She asked, “Are we to be arrested immediately?”
“Have you arrested? Good heavens, no,” Charmaine Beaumont quickly assured her. “I have no such intention, so you may stop worrying.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I’m very grateful that you are not going to press charges,” Claire said. “I’m aware that you would have every right to see me incarcerated.”
“Ah, but you don’t fare too well in prison, do you?” Claire’s tear-filled eyes widened. The duchess nodded knowingly and said, “While you were out this evening, Olivia and I became friends. She is such a dear and she thinks the world of you. She told me everything.”
“She did?” Claire blinked back tears.
Nodding, Charmaine said, “Olivia confided that the despicable Nardees had you thrown into Newgate because you rebuffed his advances.”
Head bowing, Claire simply nodded.
“Look at me, Claire,” the duchess commanded.
Claire raised her head.
The duchess said, “I am not surprised that the baron behaved so abominably. You’re a very beautiful young woman and the spoiled, rapacious lord supposed that since you were in his employ and dependent on him for your livelihood that he had only to reach out and take you.” The duchess made a face of disgust. “Wardley Nardees is an obnoxious boor and a cruel bastard.” Her eyes narrowed when she said, “Attempting to sexually assault you and then bringing false charges against you. Absolutely reprehensible!”
“Yes, but what I’ve done is—”
The duchess cut her off. “My dear, there is no comparison.”
Claire went on as if the duchess hadn’t spoken, “Coming here, pretending to be you, occupying your estate and living your glamorous life. Can you ever really forgive me, Your Grace?”
The duchess laughed heartily and walked on into the suite. “Forgive you? Why I applaud you for coming up with such an ingenious idea. I’ve always admired creativity and imagination and you’re obviously a very clever woman. I’m flattered that you would choose to be me.” She crossed to a sofa, sank down into the comfortable cushions and patted the one beside her. “I trust I have enjoyed my summer holiday in Saratoga.” Her eyes flashed and she smiled broadly.
Claire sat down beside the duchess. “You have.” She finally managed a weak smile of her own. “Too much, I fear.”
“Then why the tears?” The duchess withdrew a lace-edged handkerchief from inside the flowing sleeve of her satin negligee. She handed it to Claire. “Here. Dry your eyes and blow your nose. Then tell me all about it.”
Claire dabbed at her eyes, but when she began to speak, fresh tears came. “The masquerade was a success. When I learned that you hadn’t been to Saratoga for eight years or so, I was confident we could pull off the deception. I had seen photographs of you in the London newspapers and was aware of the resemblance. Same slender build, same light hair. I believe I did fool everyone. But I’m the real fool. You see I have fallen in love and—”
“Now that is foolish,” the duchess agreed, nodding.
“I know, I know. I never meant it to happen,” Claire sniffed. “But he’s so wonderful and we’ve had such a lovely…an exciting…ah…an…”
“Affair? Is that the word you’re searching for?”
“Yes. We’ve had a thrilling love affair and I—”
“Well, I’m sure it was enjoyable, but that’s no reason to fall in love. I’ve had a number of affairs and never once have I lost my heart.” She chuckled and added, “A fact of which I’m rather proud.”
“I wish I were more like you,” Claire said sadly.
“Well, you’re not, so go ahead.
Tell me about this extraordinary man who managed to steal your heart in three short weeks.”
“He’s the gentleman you saw here this evening. His name is Hank Cassidy and—”
“The Silver King,” Charmaine interrupted.
“You know him?” Claire’s eyes widened.
“No, Olivia told me who he was.” Her throaty laughter again filled the room and she said, “I’d never seen him before this evening when I walked into the drawing room to serve the brandy.”
Recalling that astonishing moment, Claire finally smiled through her tears. “May I compliment you. That was a stellar performance, Your Grace.”
“Why, thank you, thank you. I was quite convincing, wasn’t I? And didn’t you like the way I managed to quickly usher Lord Nardees out of the house?”
“Priceless,” said Claire with frank admiration.
“But we’re getting off the subject,” said the duchess. “Now, you were saying that you’ve foolishly fallen in love with the handsome Silver King?”
“I have,” Claire stated. “Completely. Hopelessly.”
“And he hasn’t fallen in love with you?”
“No, he hasn’t,” Claire shook her head sadly. “He’s fallen in love with the Duchess of Beaumont.”
Hank shrugged out of his rain-soaked white dinner jacket the minute he walked into his cottage. He left it where it fell. He untied the black silk neck piece, pulled it off and dropped it. He unbuttoned the top buttons of the damp white shirt, which was sticking to his chest.
He didn’t bother to change into dry clothes. He didn’t even grab a towel to dry his sopping hair or blot the moisture from his face and chest.
He unstoppered a half-full bottle of bourbon and poured himself a whiskey. He turned to walk away, stopped, snagged the bottle between two long fingers and took it with him. He sank down into an easy chair and set the bottle on a small end table at his elbow.
It was dark in the cottage’s sitting room, but Hank didn’t bother lighting a lamp. The darkness suited his mood. He took a long drink of the whiskey, made a face and felt it burn down its way into his chest.
