Regency Rakes 02 - Rescued By A Viscount (9 page)

Her brother looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair stood on end, and his skin was pale, yet she felt no sympathy for him; what she felt was anger. “Don’t lecture me on responsibilities, brother, when you are failing in yours.”

“I am not failing in mine,” he ground out. “In fact, just the opposite. Why will you not see reason on this, Claire? Mother is on my side.”

“Reason!” Claire was amazed she could still find the strength to raise her voice. “Is it not reasonable to expect that we depart immediately for Liverpool to inquire if the child the note spoke of is our brother’s? The brother we both loved, Mathew? Furthermore, do not use Mother to strengthen your cause–she would never go against your wishes.”

His teeth snapped together briefly, and the anger between them seemed to fill every corner in her room. “The note that I intercepted was for you, Claire, and it stated you must come alone to collect Anthony’s illegitimate child. If there is, indeed, a child, why would it matter which one of us went to retrieve it? Surely you are not silly enough to believe this ruse?”

“What if it’s not, Mathew? What if Anthony’s child is left alone and helpless because you will do nothing?”

“And what if someone has targeted you, wants to abduct you to obtain money? Surely you can see I must protect us from that? It was you who was lured into Tuttle Lane, not me, and it is you whom they want in Liverpool. Open your eyes and see what is happening here!”

Claire ignored his words. She believed there was a child and would do whatever she could to save it.

“We do not have long, Mathew. The note said they had Anthony’s child, and they asked for me specifically because Anthony had given them my name. They will hold the child for seven days, and if after that we have not come, then he or she will be abandoned.” Claire clenched her fingers together. She did not want her brother to see them trembling. Her heart started thumping again at the prospect of her niece or nephew being left cold and alone on the streets of Liverpool. “Our blood, Mathew– yours and mine.”

“A bastard and more than likely a French bastard, at that, not that I believe it exists!”

The words were roared at her and hung in the air between them as they glared at each other. They had never spoken to each other this way before. Usually their conversations were polite and distant. But she would not be frightened by his anger, as she was angry, too.

“There is no child, Claire. No niece or nephew carrying your beloved brother’s blood. Surely, you can see this is some kind of lure to get money from us?”

Claire wouldn’t see it because she believed otherwise. There was a child. “You say you want to protect me, but what you really fear is that there will be a child, Mathew, and it will bring shame to your name.”

“If there was a child,” Mathew spat his words out in an angry volley, “I would of course acknowledge it in some way, however, there is no child, therefore, I refuse to discuss this further.”

“Some way? Surely you would acknowledge it as your niece or nephew, Mathew? This child is something that is part of our brother. Anthony deserves more than this from you, and his child deserves our protection when its father is not here to give it.”

Mathew walked in a circle around her room, pacing like a caged animal. A large hand raked continuously through his hair.

“There is no child, Claire, now I beg of you to let the matter drop. Mother is distressed, and you are making more of this mess than needs to be.”

“We are discussing a small, helpless child, Mathew, not a mess.”

His jaw was clenched so tight, she could see the taut muscles.

“You told me you would have someone look into it, at least, Mathew. Surely if the existence of the child is confirmed, you will go and collect it?”

He wouldn’t look at her, and Claire realized with dawning horror that he had lied.

“I have said my final words on this matter, Claire. Therefore you will not speak of it again.”

“Dear god, you lied to me.” Claire was suddenly filled with rage. An uncontrollable need to lash out at Mathew gripped her. “No one has been sent to Liverpool, have they? How can you do this?

“Enough! Not one more word, Claire.” Anger had him stalking towards her.

Claire rose to meet him, her rage more than equalling his. “How dare you not care for our brother’s child! You are a bloody coward, Mathew, concerned only for yourself and what others will think of the high and mighty Lord Belmont.”

“Shut up!”

“Anthony would have done this for you, were your roles reversed, Mathew. He would not have hesitated.”

His laugh was brittle as he stopped just inches from her. “Ah, but your sainted Anthony could never do any wrong in your eyes, Claire, could he?”

“He is your brother.” Claire heard the pleading in her words. “It matters not whether I believed him a saint or not–what matters is the child.” Her heart sank as she saw his expression become emotionless once more. He returned to the composed Lord Belmont. “I never thought you a hard man, Mathew, or a cruel one, but this–what you are not doing–will change everything between us.” Claire’s words were a whisper, and in them was a final, desperate plea to her big brother for him to help her, help the child.

“You always cared more for him than me, sister. I knew that, and in truth, you have been cold and distant to me since his death. I cannot see that your future behavior will be much different.”

Claire knew then she had hurt him by turning away from him when Anthony died.

“I’m sorry. I see now that my closeness to Anthony was unfair to you, but believe me, I never meant to hurt you, Mathew–”

He waved her words away. “It matters not. What matters is that I forbid any more discussions about a child that does not exist, Claire, and I will hear no more on the matter. You will go to the country tomorrow with the Duke and Duchess of Stratton, as I know they will watch over you and it will be good to remove you from London. When you return, you will not leave the house without telling me where you are going and with whom. I will know your movements every minute of every day until I’m sure that you will not put yourself in danger following this foolish hoax.” “Surely you can’t mean what you say, Mathew?” Claire stared at his unyielding face in horror.

“I mean every word. Now prepare yourself for this evening, please. We are to leave in one hour for the Duke and Duchess of Waverly’s musical evening.”

“You expect us to go out tonight after everything that has happened?”

“That is exactly what I expect, and you will be ready and looking your best at the appointed time, or I shall force you into clothing myself.”

Claire looked at the man before her. Suddenly he felt like a stranger. “I don’t even know you anymore.” Her words were a ragged whisper.

“Anymore,” he scoffed. “You never knew me.” The door slammed at his hand, and then she was alone.

Claire had no idea that the closeness between her and Anthony had upset Mathew so much. He had never seemed to care what either of them thought; he was always too busy being head of the family. Dear god, had he been lonely? Pushing aside these thoughts, she rang for her maid. She had no time now to think about Mathew, and after what she was about to do tomorrow, they would probably never speak again. Therefore there was nothing to be gained by getting herself worked up about it. He had ordered her appearance this evening, and she did not want to antagonize him further because he was still allowing her to go to Stratton, and as this was her only chance to do what she must, she would appease him until she left.

She would need to look her best, and to do that, she would need a great deal of time and careful application of face powders and such. Summoning her maid, Claire set to work. An hour later, she studied her reflection in the mirror and knew she looked as good as she could, considering the shadows beneath her eyes. Her dress was peach silk, cut wide at the neck, and rested on her shoulders, displaying more of her chest than she normally showed. The sleeves were short and fitted, as was the bodice, and a thin, matching ribbon banded tightly beneath her breasts. The skirts were light and fine and danced around her legs as she walked. Any other evening, she would simply enjoy wearing this beautiful dress, however tonight it would provide the armor she required to draw attention away from her face. Her hair was soft, with long curls teased to lie on her shoulders. She wore a gold bracelet and thin necklace but no other jewels. She had no wish to wear anything her family had given her.

She presented herself in the hallway at the time her brother stated.

“You look lovely, dear.”

Claire just nodded to her mother, who also looked lovely. Her deep rose dress was offset with rubies at her neck. Mathew looked nothing like the man who had paced around her room an hour ago. He, too, was dressed elegantly, with a waistcoat of emerald and ivory satin, a fitted black jacket, and white evening trousers.

“Claire, we must talk more about this–”

“There is a child of our blood who needs us, and you and Mathew have turned your backs on it, Mother. What more is there to say?”
Damn
, she had been determined not to discuss this again tonight.

“Do not use that tone with your mother, Claire.” Mathew took her arm as he spoke.

She had to try once more to reason with him. “I’m sorry, Mathew, more sorry than I can say if Anthony and I hurt you with our closeness but surely-”

“Leave it alone, Claire.”

Mathew’s words were a low growl, but she was not deterred. She had to plead with him to send someone to Liverpool, before she was forced to take action herself.

“I’m begging you to send someone to Liverpool, Mathew-”

“Be quiet!” The roared words echoed through the hallway. “Not one more word do you hear me?”

His fingers bit into her arm as he spoke, but she shook him free as anger flooded through her once more. “Go to hell.”

Ignoring her mother’s outraged gasp, Claire sailed out the front door, where Plimley awaited with an umbrella. She gave him a brief smile and then walked with him to the carriage. “Thank you, Plimley.”

He knew better than to comment upon what he had just witnessed; after all, he was the family butler. Indeed, all he said was, “Enjoy your evening, Miss Belmont.”

Claire swallowed the swell of hysterical laughter. There would be no enjoyment tonight; the evening would be an exercise in survival and nothing more. She would smile, talk, and dance, then she would return to her room and work through her plan once more.

“Claire, I cannot believe you spoke to your brother in such an insulting manner. It is not like you to be so vulgar. Mathew is simply trying to do what is best for the family,” Lady Belmont said as they entered the carriage.

“You are as much a coward as your son, Mother, and I have no wish to discuss this further. And I will not apologize for saying what I did. It is obvious I have no hand in any decision that is to be made about Anthony’s child. Therefore, please do not bring the matter up again.”

“Claire–”

“Leave it, Mother. Perhaps one day she will grow up,” Mathew said.

Clenching her hands into fists, Claire forced her nails into the palms of her hands. It wasn’t overly painful, as she was wearing gloves, but the small sting helped her to focus. Nothing further would be gained by continuing this discussion with either her mother or Mathew. Therefore her best course of action was to keep quiet. Thankfully, her mother followed her lead. However Claire could feel her eyes on the back of her head as she stared out the window until they reached their destination.

The Belmonts walked into the ball with smiles on their faces. If anyone had looked closely, they would have seen the strain on each, yet no one looked closely; the façade was all that mattered on occasions such as these. There was too much noise for meaningful conversation.

“I shall be with my friends.”

Claire ignored her mother but heard Mathew murmur something she did not catch. Walking with no destination in mind, Claire hoped she could find someone to sit with who was as far away from her family as possible.

Chairs were set in rows before the stage, where a piano awaited a player. Behind it were a large vase of flowers, several candelabras, and a black curtain. The night would be long, but at least she could sit quietly for most of it and pretend to listen to whomever performed.

“Lord Belmont, it is a pleasure to see you again. Why, Mary was just asking after you. And Miss Belmont is here with you also.”

Claire had not realized Mathew was still at her back until she felt him move to her side.

“Lady Blake, it is a pleasure to see you again also,” Mathew said, bowing deeply before the prune-faced woman. Claire had always loathed her and wasn’t overly enamored with her daughters, either.

“Lady Blake.” Claire moved closer to her brother’s side. She may not have liked him very much at that moment, but he was still her blood, and although her future would probably not hold him in it, she would not see him shackled to one of the Blake sisters.

“Miss Belmont, that is a rather…dashing dress.”

Claire held still with a bored expression on her face as Lady Blake looked her over with a curl to her lips. The woman had gall–she’d give her that–especially as she herself usually wore gowns so low-cut, most people held their breath when she leant forward. “Why, thank you, my lady. Coming from an arbiter of fashion such as yourself, that is a compliment indeed.”