Betrayed (6 page)

“What the hell are you
saying,” Arthur asked in a low dangerous voice.

Her brain seized.
Clara could not utter a word for fear if she spoke at all, it would emerge a
stammering string of nonsense that would anger her father and distress Edgar.

“Pay him no mind,
Clara,” said her brother. “Our father is on his last nerve. Don’t play with his
temper, or we shall all feel his bite.”

Arthur Hamilton fixed
his cold grey eyes on his daughter. “I will not apologize for my outburst. If
you are joking, it is a poor jest, at a worse time. You have not the mind for
witty banter, Clara.”

“I am not trying to be
amusing. Good God, is that what you think? I am not teasing. It is no joke. Mr.
Hamilton is not my husband.” Her upper lip was moist from the effort of this
small speech. “I failed my family at a critical time. I arrived at the chapel but
there was no vicar present as my cousin had no intention of making me his
bride. Instead, Branson told me of the scheme of revenge he has in mind. He has
already taken Windemere and now he plans to ruin you at the meeting of the
shareholders. I have come to warn you, Father. You must find another way to get
the funds you require and restore them to the company as soon as can be.
Branson Hamilton means to have you arrested for embezzlement on the first of
October in front of the entire assembly.”

Arthur’s complexion
went ashen grey. “Why, why, why are you doing this to me? Do you despise me?
Have I not given you everything and this is how you thank me?”

Clara turned to her
brother for help and it was clear there was something terribly wrong. Edgar
appeared distinctly uncomfortable and Arthur’s expression was coldly
malevolent. The air crackled with secrets and fear. Clara could not fathom what
she had said to cause this upset.

“The money can be
found, can it not?”

“Not such a sum as
this, no.” Edgar looked down at his hands. “Father has suffered some serious
reversals lately.”

“Yes, well!” Her
father clapped his hands together loudly. “It is fine and easy to point
fingers, very fine to be sure, but I fully expected those reversals to be
covered by Branson Hamilton. If I had known my daughter was going to cock it
up, I should have been more cautious.”

“Father, I must
protest! Clara is the injured party here.”

“How so?” railed
Arthur. “In what way is she injured? Really, Edgar, I marvel at your wit. Clara’s
cousin asked for her hand, I gave my consent, it was all arranged. Mr.
Schofield was to oversee the proceedings. What happened to
that
gentleman if I may ask? I daresay he will tell a vastly
different tale.”

“You don’t believe me?”
Clara was stunned. She had not expected this. Her father had let loose with the
suspicion so bluntly, she could not absorb it. He could not have meant what he
said. “I am sorry, Father if I have misunderstood—but you can’t think I wanted
this!”

“I sent you from this
house betrothed to Branson Hamilton. You have returned with a wild story of his
refusal to marry you, despite the fact his solicitor was in attendance.”

It was clear what
Arthur thought of her.

HER FATHER stood over her and placed his hand heavily on
her shoulder. “You have been unwell. The betrothal came as a shock, but you
must see the position your illness put me in at the time. It is more likely you
misunderstood your cousin. Perhaps he offended you somehow. You can be too
thin-skinned, Clara. Now, you will stop this nonsense and return to Windemere
Hall first thing in the morning and get this sorted out.”

“I’ll go with you if
you like, Clara,” Edgar chimed in.

“You are not listening
to me! You have not heard a word I’ve said. Branson
will not
marry me. He has taken his revenge on me already and now
it is your turn, Father! I am only here to warn you. I do not expect you will
want to keep me in your house after this, but I had to do my best to help you where
I could.”

“What revenge? What
have I ever done to the wretch?”

“You refused to
welcome his mother as your new sister. That was hurtful and beneath you,
Father. Branson was only a boy. You ought to have been kind.”

Arthur purpled with
rage from the affront. “
Kind
to a
slattern? Welcome her bastard into our family as one of our
own
? He can go to hell and you can go
with him! My brother disgraced the entire family by marrying Ida Reilly. Her
first husband was a whaler or some such, good with his fists. She ran out on
him and thought to elevate herself by trapping my brother. The cunning little
bitch sized Leonard up and seized her chance. No, I did not welcome her! I know
her kind and I spoke my mind. If her bastard son took offence that is no concern
of mine—not then and not now!”

“See here, Father. He
is our cousin, we must tread carefully.”

Arthur blew out his
cheeks and turned to Clara. “What your brother is trying to say is we are
depending on Branson to do his duty and thus we dance attendance on his moods. He
has traded mightily on the Hamilton name and now it is time to give back.”

“I know what Edgar is
trying to say. You need Branson’s good will to gain access to his money. You
were only indulging him with the betrothal, embracing him as your long-lost
nephew. I am telling you,
he will not
help you
. Whatever you did to him seven years ago, he has not forgotten it
and this is his revenge.”

“Seven years ago, you
say.” Arthur’s manner changed. He coughed and reddened. “One cannot keep track
of every misdemeanor at my age. I have no idea how I’ve offended the man. Be
that as it may, he has asked you to be his wife. Why would he do that if his
intentions were insincere? You can win him over, Clara.”

“I am not a desirable
match for any man now. It is unlikely I’ll find a better suitor than Mr.
Hamilton. But regardless of our family’s predicament, Branson has a right to
happiness on the strength of his own qualities and merits. He loves another and
I will not be content living in her shadow.” Her voice caught.

“Clara,” Edgar
murmured in deep sympathy.

“No, Edgar, no, I must
speak as I find. I was not such a prize as this young lady from Branson’s past.
This assessment of my worth is not false modesty. Father described me as the
odd duck in a family of beauty and wit. I cannot deny it. I have trouble
forming words to express myself. But for all that, I was comfortable with Mr.
Hamilton. We got on tolerably well. But I shall never see him again.”

“That is unacceptable!
Do you hear? I will not have it. You shall return to Windemere and make this
right!”

Clara swallowed her
feelings and drew herself up. “I pray you are able to find a way to salvage
this situation, Father, but it will be without Branson’s investment.”

“Hold your peace. I
have not finished with you. There are many more questions that demand answers.
Clara! Stop right there!”

Overcome, Clara flung
open the door and rushed from the room.

§

VICAR WIMBLEY accosted Branson outside of the stationer’s
shop, as red-faced and overwrought as he generally was when delivering a
sermon.

“Mr. Hamilton! Sir! A word if I may? It has
recently been brought to my attention that you have married a young lady thus
making her
ipso facto
the mistress of
Windemere. Most certainly regarded as a joyous occasion for this parish and as
its spiritual leader, I must chastise you for not holding the wedding ceremony
at Windemere Chapel. The people of this parish have long supported the Hamilton
family, an ancient and honoured name in this county, and it is a snubbing of
the worst sort to choose London over your own parish for the nuptials, sir. Forgive
me for speaking plainly; I am not thinking of myself, not at all. I’ve not been
long in this area only having been granted the curacy three years ago, but I
have come to know these people. Their affection and respect for the Hamilton
family runs deep.”

“That what was quite a speech, vicar. Who
told you I was married?”

Vicar Wimbley looked distinctly
uncomfortable. “Why Captain Strachan he said you had introduced him to your
wife on the Down only the day before last. I was moved to investigate, sir as
is my prerogative. Church records show that there is no entry for a wedding at
Windemere Chapel. I assumed you were married in London in the parish of the young
lady in order that her family may be present. Am I correct?”

“You’ve caught me,” Branson said easily. “Mrs.
Hamilton’s father is experiencing some financial hardship at present. Hosting a
large wedding party would’ve embarrassed him. My wife and I decided a small ceremony
in London would relieve him of his paternal obligation.”

“I see, quite right you are,” nodded the vicar
solemnly. “May I venture to hope that a celebration of some sort will be
forthcoming at Windemere Hall?”

“You can be certain of it,” Branson said
flatly. So Strachan had been asking questions about Clara’s wedding. That was
interesting. What cause would a soon-to-be-married man have to inquire about
old admirer?

The pieces were falling together even as he
made his goodbyes to the vicar and mounted Gladiator. It was too great a
coincidence that Strachan would come across Clara in the forest the day after
he’d talked to Vicar Wimbley.

The captain obviously didn’t believe Branson’s
story of an intimate wedding ceremony in the chapel. Or he did not want to
believe it.

The question was
why
didn’t he want to believe it?

Strachan wasted no time in convincing Clara to
leave Windemere Hall. Why? To what end?

The day was turning cold. Branson allowed Gladiator
to turn off the road and cross the fields. Once in the open, the horse pulled
out into full gallop. The route was longer and would delay his return to the
Hall. He told himself Glad needed the exercise, but the truth was Branson was
less eager to return home than he had been in the past. There were reasons he
seldom left the place, but since meeting Clara those reasons held less and less
sway over him. And now that she was gone, he had no desire to return at all.

Branson was confident the captain did not have
Clara Hamilton’s best interests at heart when he took her away. But then
neither did Branson when he tricked her into coming.

If Edgar Hamilton was half a man, he’d take
charge of his sister and protect her from wolves like Strachan, he thought
angrily.

Enough!
What happened to Clara Hamilton in London did not concern him. Let
her be torn apart by wolves. He had his own battles to fight.

The knowledge did not stop Branson from riding
long and hard into the late afternoon until his thighs ached in the saddle and
his hands were cramped from cold.

This
shall not defeat me
, he thought bitterly. He would
conquer this.

§

THERE WAS to be a Ball given at one of the finest homes in
London and Edgar and Clara were invited to attend on the strength of Colonel
and Mrs. Brockville’s acquaintance.

She was grateful, certainly; it was efforts
such as this that would buoy them in the difficult times to come. However, she
had nothing to wear except the unlucky wedding gown.

Clara stared at the white crème glacé silk
and found she was still foolishly pleased with it. She would at the very least
have the satisfaction of getting some wear out of the thing. Clara examined it
for damage inflicted by Grace Leeds and could find none. Piers repaired a seam
in the skirt, but the tear could have happened when she climbed over the tree.
Clara assumed Grace had torn the dress but the further away she got from that
strange encounter, the more she began to wonder if she had imagined it.

To be sure the dress was not as smart as
the other ladies’ gowns would be but it was pretty and suited her well. Clara
stepped into the skirt and fitted it around her waist. She would have to manage
the bodice on her own. Her mother had not sent for her since hearing of the
wedding debacle; it was unlikely Portia would send Tilly to attend to her
daughter’s dress.

There was a light rap on her door.

“Come in.”

Tilly entered carrying a basket of ribbons
and hair ornaments. Clara was sure she spied an ostrich feather. Her face lit
up when Tilly set the basket on the dresser.

“What have you there?” Clara held out hope
that her mother had relented.

“I’ll not see you sent off with your hair
dressed any which way. I have pride in my work same as any lady’s maid would.
Your mother has her opinion of a just punishment and I have mine. If she wants
to bring you down a peg, let her do it—but not at my expense. Just think how
Lady Stanley’s servants’ll talk if they see you looking like you were drugged
through a hedge! It’s my neck what’s on the line. I might be looking for a new
place soon and you’re my best advertisement what with your mother taken to her
bed.”

“Why would you leave us, Tilly? You’ve been
with Mother for years and years!”

The woman dumped out the supplies and picked
through them. “Aye, I’ve been dressing your mother since she was your age. But
Mr. Hamilton’s troubles being what they are, I have my future to think of. Now
here’s a pretty comb. That’d be right smart with your colouring.
Tut!
You have barely a curl to catch
hold of. Sit down, miss. I’ll get you fixed up.”

Clara had not thought of the servants, of
where they would go when her father’s business collapsed. Her actions were seen
now in a new light as being utterly self-serving. If she had stayed at
Windemere, Branson could have been persuaded to honour his oath to her. He
would not now that she had left him.

“Miss Clara, you are a vision.” Tilly had
dressed Clara’s hair in tiny flowers and wove ribbons through her locks. “You
will be in demand for several dances, I wager.”

Clara tried to laugh. She was thinking there
was only one man she wished to dance with—Branson Hamilton. Her fickle,
treacherous heart leapt at the thought of him. He was not the man for her—her
intellect was sound on that score. But her heart recalled his possession of her
body and passion overpowered her reason. How could she be drawn to a man who
had manipulated her emotions for his own profit?

She hated him.

What he had done—what he had taken from her
when she was vulnerable—Clara despised him for it.

“Your hands are shaking, miss. Here, allow me.
You are not too old yet that I can’t help you dress.” Tilly relieved her of
fumbling with the buttons on her bodice and fastened them up in an instant. “There
now. Perfect. ‘Tis a lovely gown and you’re as pretty as a picture in it, Miss
Clara.”

“I wish I
felt
pretty as a picture. I am scared to death. I’ve been to few dances of late.
Edgar says he’ll look out for me but this will be my first appearance in public
since my collapse. To be honest, I’d give anything to get out of going.”

To Clara’s dismay, her eyes burned with unshed
tears.

Tilly’s look was warm. “None of that. Look how
far you’ve come since that terrible time! You have lost that nasty stammer and
your looks have improved vastly. I would’ve said your reprobate cousin was the
cause, but Mrs. Hamilton forbids all mention of him in this house.”

Clara shook her head and pressed her hands to
her eyes.

“There now, there, there.” Tilly hugged Clara.
“Shush now, you’ll ruin the effect if you set to bawling now. Mrs. Brockville
will take good care of you at the dance and the Colonel is a man of honour.
He’ll not allow any evil to befall you. If you feel unwell, you only have to
ring for the carriage and Terry will bring you home.”

“You are right, of course.” Clara returned the
older woman’s hug and flashed a tremulous smile. “I am ready.”

§

THE BALLROOM glittered with light and crystal that danced
rainbow prisms over the guests. Clara entered on the arm of Edgar following
behind Colonel and Mrs. Brockville. Several heads snapped in their direction as
the offspring of the controversial Arthur Hamilton, but the attention was
short-lived. Her pulse slowed when she realized she was not the subject of the
gossip circulating the room. Clara Hamilton’s public collapse had been
overshadowed by a scandalous story concerning Princess Louise and a tutor in
the Royal Household.