Courting Claudia (17 page)

“Who will take care of me?”

“Father, you've always taken care of yourself. You've never needed me.” She'd never seen him like this. So defeated, so…pathetic.

“I never needed you because you were always there. But now you're gone.”

“I would have been gone had I married Richard. I would not have stayed here with you.”

“Yes, but Richard would not have controlled you. This Middleton, he'll try to control you.”

Now, that was rich. What he really meant was that he controlled Richard, and therefore would have continued his control over her. That's what this was about. It was killing him that he didn't have any more say in how she lived her life. She stood.

“Where are you going?”

“You need a bath. It will make you feel better. And I'll have the cook make some strong coffee. It will get the drink out of your body. I'll be right back.”

She came back and found him half sitting, half
lying on the sofa. “Stand up. I'll help you upstairs.” She'd never before spoken to her father with such force, such charge. It felt neither good nor bad, merely necessary under the current situation.

She lifted him to a standing position, and he leaned so heavily on her, she thought she might fall. She steadied herself and walked into the hallway.

“You must leave him, Claudia. He killed Richard.”

The hair at the nape of her neck prickled and she shivered. “What did you say?”

“Richard. Didn't you know? He was murdered. And I think your husband did it.”

He wasn't merely drunk, he was experiencing delusions. He'd better hope it was only delusions because she'd hate to have to confront him on an actual accusation of her husband. That was more than even she could take. But clearly her father was not in his right mind.

Because Derrick wasn't capable of murder. He was a kind and honest man. Well, mostly honest. She shook off the doubt. No, her father was completely mad for saying such a thing.

“That's preposterous. Derrick has been with me since our wedding. There would have been no
time for him to go and murder someone. Besides, had he done so, surely I would be able to tell by his behavior. A person who could do such a heinous thing can't very well live normally, pretending all is right with the world. Surely it was a burglar.”

“What would a burglar steal from Richard? He was poor as a street urchin.”

“Perhaps there was nothing to steal, and the thief was angered, and that is why he killed poor Richard.”

“I think you know it was that rotten husband of yours, and you're trying to protect him.”

“That's nonsense.”

They made it to his room, and his valet was already there readying the bath.

“Father, this bath will make you feel more like yourself. Then you need to get some rest and make sure you eat something. Baubie tells me you haven't been eating properly.”

“Baubie talks too much. Always has. I should have fired her years ago.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

He shrugged. “Probably not. She makes the best shortbread in London.”

“Yes, she does. I'll have her make you some shortbread. I'm going to go home now. Send for
me if you need me, but only if it is an emergency. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow.”

He grabbed her wrists. “You must leave him, Claudia. He'll ruin you.”

She jerked her hands free. “I cannot leave him. He is my husband. He's a wonderful man. You'll see once you get to know him properly. Perhaps we can have dinner together.” She knelt to pour some scented oil into the water to soothe her father's muscles.

“Do not bring that man into my house.” His words dripped with hatred.

She felt her body stiffen. Then she slowly rose to a standing position, put the scented oil down. Let his valet worry about any aching muscles.

“Father, you must accept Derrick sooner or later. He's a part of my life now.”

“Foolish girl.”

“I shall see you tomorrow. Get some rest. And stay away from the brandy.”

She closed the bedroom door and leaned against it. He was like a different man. She'd never seen such pleading in his eyes before. Nor had she heard him plead. For anything. Ever. Something in him had changed.

He'd said it was that he'd finally realized he needed her, but she doubted that. It didn't make
sense. He'd never so much as had a civil conversation with her. Instead he'd spent their time together berating her for poor decisions and challenging her to straighten up. Meaning stop playing with her art and marry Richard.

Now her father was panicking because he'd lost control over her life. As much as she knew that was the real reason for his newfound attitude toward her, she couldn't turn her back on him. He needed her, maybe not for the right reasons, but it was a start.

But she refused to allow him to disparage her husband. She could come to terms with her husband and father never liking each other, but they would have to be civil. She wouldn't be torn between them.

How had her life ended in such a state? Amonth ago, she'd been content to marry Richard. Had believed she had plenty of time to do so. Granted, she hadn't been in a hurry, because she hadn't wanted to marry him. Not really.

But he'd never seemed as if he'd wanted to marry her either. Or else he would have proposed. Generally if a man was ready to marry and had the girl's father's permission, the wedding date was set. But Richard had stalled. Why, she'd never know.

But now everything had changed. She was free
to continue illustrating, but according to her father, she had married the wrong man. And now Richard was dead.

I
t was late afternoon, almost evening, by the time she got home, and the sun had already set. She climbed the stairs to the bedroom, eager to wash the stench of alcohol from her body. After her father had spilled the foul liquid on her dress and feet, he'd proceeded to touch her more than he had ever done in her life, leaving in his wake the foul odor of day-old liquor. Week-old, perhaps.

No doubt she smelled of the streets.

Upon entering their bedroom, she found Derrick sitting and staring at the door with a dark scowl across his face. His eyes landed on her, and he immediately stood.

“I'm trying hard not to yell at you right now. I'm very angry, but I do not want to frighten you. You've spent too much of your life being afraid.”

She said nothing, simply stood there.

“Where the hell have you been?” His words came out in tight clips, squeezed between his teeth.

“First tell me why you are angry,” she cautiously answered.

“Because I asked you to stay here. And if you had to leave the house, only to go and visit Poppy. Well, I know you weren't there, because I checked myself. Where were you, Claudia?”

“I went to see my father. He sent letters while we were away, begging me to come home. He said he was ill, that he needed me.”

“Was he ill?”

“Not precisely. Inebriated is more the term, I believe.” She pulled her gloves off, then began unpinning her hat.

“I see.” He took three deep breaths before he continued. “And what did you discuss?”

She didn't want to lie to him, yet she didn't want to tell him that her father suspected him of Richard's murder. She didn't see any reason to fuel their hatred of each other. “He's still not accepted our marriage. He asked me to come home.” She placed her hat on her dressing table and the pins in the crystal bowl.

He laughed a humorless laugh. “And what did you tell him?”

She turned to face him. “I told him no. That I was your wife, and I belonged with you.”

He nodded, clearly approving her response. “Did he have anything else to say?”

“Only that he missed me and needed me. Which is odd, considering he's never been an affectionate man. I assume it was the drink that made him act so peculiar. I had a bath drawn for him and instructed the staff to make him eat and rest. I will check on him tomorrow.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said no. I don't trust the man. I don't believe he has your best interests at heart, and I can't help but think, with his new attitude toward you, he has an ulterior plan.”

“So it is unfathomable that he might have realized he loves me and needs me after I left his life?”

“That's not what I said. Nor what I meant.” He led her to the chair and brought her down on his lap once he sat. “I don't want you harmed.”

“He would never hurt me.”

“You know that for certain? Has he ever struck you?” He began removing the hairpins that secured her coiffure.

“No.”

“What about your mother?”

“Not that she ever admitted, but I was always suspicious.”

“If a man can strike one woman, he can strike another. Drinking can bring out the worst in a person.”

Her hair fell about her shoulders in a wave. Not having her hair tightly bound to her head relieved a throbbing pressure she hadn't noticed before. “I suppose that makes sense. Well, then what do you propose I do? I cannot very well desert him. He was in the worst shape I've ever seen him.”

Derrick's fingertips rubbed her aching scalp. “I don't care for your father, we've established that, but I know you will hate me if I ask you to walk away from him. In the future I will accompany you to see him.”

“That will not work.”

“Why not?”

“Because he will not allow you in his house. Told me so this afternoon.”

“Bloody hell he won't. Either he will see both of us, or he will not see you. That's the rule.”

“Derrick, he's my father. How can you be so unreasonable?”

“I'm not being unreasonable. I'm being cautious. I need for you to trust me on this. I'm not
trying to imprison you. I want to investigate all possible avenues regarding Richard's death.”

“And you think my father is a potential avenue?”

“I'm simply not ruling him out. Your father and Richard were more than acquaintances. Arguments happen.”

“Well, I'll have you know he said the same thing about you this afternoon. It's so nice to be caught between my husband and father while they toss ludicrous accusations at each other, as if their words have no consequences. Neither of you acknowledges that my heart is in the middle of your childish dispute.”

“He suggested to you that I killed Richard?”

“Yes.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you were with me the entire time. That it was probably a burglary.”

“I'm only being cautious.” He turned her chin so that their eyes met. “I don't want anything to happen to you.”

His hand rubbed against her back, soothing her doubts. Derrick cared about her. He might not be in love with her, but he cared about her, was concerned for her safety. That's why he'd been angry. That's why he was suspicious of her father. It didn't make her feel any better about the latter, but she understood.

 

Today when he'd come home and she'd been gone, he'd thought the worst. It had terrified him. He'd gone to Poppy's to try to find her, only to be told Poppy hadn't heard from Claudia all day. He should have known she'd go to see her father. Derrick could have gone to check for himself, but he'd wanted to know if she would come back.

She had come home. And she'd been honest with him. He pulled her tighter to him, loving the crush of her body next to his and the smell of her hair as it tickled his nose. He loved the gentle curve of her neck and her big, amazing eyes that nearly made him forget everything else around him. He loved her excited chatter and the passion she saved for only him. He loved her ridiculous hats and the way she bit down on her lip to concentrate. He loved…everything about her.

He loved her.

The thought hit him so hard he nearly fell over. His heart raced, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying it aloud.

He'd thought he'd loved Julia, but now he saw how limited those feelings had been. With Julia he'd been giddy and starry-eyed and so hopeful for the future. But with Claudia, the feelings had snuck up on him. She'd silently wormed her way into his heart, into his very soul, and the feelings
ran much deeper and stronger than the foolish infatuation he'd had for his first bride.

Claudia was different from Julia, and their marriage was different. But still, a man stood between Derrick and his wife.

Which was why he couldn't tell Claudia about his feelings now. Not until he knew the truth about her father. Not until he was able to tell her everything about his past. But he could show her. He took her mouth and kissed her passionately, releasing all the worry he'd felt all day.

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. He brought them both to a standing position, and his fingers worked the buttons of her dress, trying to get her undressed as quickly as he could. Finally he was able to free her, and the dress pooled at her feet. They made it to the bed between kisses and the removal of their clothes.

Tonight there wouldn't be slow, patient lovemaking. Tonight it would be hot and hard and hurried. Her hands were all over him, driving him mad with desire.

They were both so ready by the time he entered her that it took only a few thrusts before they both climaxed. Her moans echoed in the room, and he hugged her close.

As much as he'd tried to protect his heart, he'd failed. He loved her, and now he'd have to do the
one thing that would probably lose her to him forever.

Go after her father.

“I
do hope he hasn't been drinking today,” Claudia said.

The carriage rounded the corner onto her father's street.

“If he has, then we'll leave,” Derrick said.

“No, I promised him I would come.”

“You are fulfilling that promise. But you're coming to visit him, and if he doesn't have the common courtesy not to get himself drunk as a boiled owl before you arrive, then we shall leave.”

They were shown into the front parlor not ten minutes later to wait for her father. She heard the
telltale rapping of her father's cane on the floor, and then he entered the room looking more like his old self, although heavy bags sat beneath his eyes.

He stopped short in the doorway. “What the devil is he doing here?”

“He escorted me,” Claudia said.

“Well, I don't want him here.” He puffed his chest out, looking very much like a country ram about to charge. “You hear that, Middleton, you're not welcome here.”

“Then we shall take our leave.”

“Leave Claudia here. I'll have a carriage return her later.”

“If I leave, she's going with me.”

“Stop it, both of you.” Both men turned to face her. Derrick nodded. Her father scowled. “Father, Derrick is my husband, and you will have to accept him. Now let's all sit and have a nice visit.”

That sat in silence for a good while until she couldn't stand it any longer. “Tell me, Father, how are the arguments going for the new policy you're trying to pass.”

He stiffened. “Did he tell you to ask me that?”

“What?”

“That's why he married you.” He pointed at her.
“Mark my words, girl. He married you to try to dig up information about me.”

“That's absurd,” Claudia countered.

“Political stories, he wants them for his paper. You'll see. That's why he came sniffing around you in the first place.”

“For your information,” Claudia said, “I went sniffing around him, if you insist on such crude language. I introduced myself to him, not the other way around.”

“What are you talking about?”

She eyed Derrick, who sat silently watching their discussion. This was as good a time as any to break the news to her father. She didn't want to keep it a secret anymore. She wanted him to know she was a paid illustrator.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked directly at him. “I went to see him to resign from my position with the paper.”

“What position?”

Derrick grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Her husband believed in her; she could do this. She could tell her father the truth. He couldn't do anything to her now.

“I am an illustrator for
London's Illustrated Times
.”

“A damned good one too,” Derrick piped in.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him.

“Impossible,” her father spat.

“What's impossible? My holding a paying position without your knowledge or my having the ability to be an illustrator?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don't get cheeky with me, girl. How could you have kept this from me?”

She shrugged. “You saw what you wanted to see. It really wasn't that difficult to hide. Only recently did I become nervous you would discover me, which is why I went to resign. That, and I knew I couldn't continue once I married Richard. But now that I've married Derrick, I can retain my position.”

“This is ludicrous.”

“I had hoped you might be proud,” she said softly. “I'm quite accomplished.”

“Proud? You thought I'd be proud? Proud of my daughter selling her services like a common whore? No, I'm not proud. I am a viscount, Claudia, and the former chancellor of finance. No daughter of mine would have a paying position. Especially one working for a man like him.”

He stood and slammed his cane down onto the floor. “You've always been such a disappointment to me, and now this. Have you no consideration for me? No, of course not. You were so blinded that a man could actually want you, that
you did anything and everything to encourage the relationship.”

There, he'd said it. Her worst fear put into words right here in front of Derrick. And she hated her father for saying it. She didn't dare look at Derrick for fear of seeing the truth of her father's words in his eyes. She had been blinded by his desire for her. Had allowed him to seduce her with kisses and love words, until she'd been ruined and forced to marry.

“To marry a man like this.” A look of disgust crossed his face. “Lowly born, unmannered, and clearly using you to further his career. A commoner only allowed in our circles because of his aunt and his money. If not for that, he'd be no different than the beggars on the street.”

For him to degrade her was one thing, but she would not stand for him to talk so disrespectfully of her husband. She stood. “That is enough. I will listen to no more of this. From this day forward, you are not to say another disparaging word about my husband or our marriage. If you cannot adhere to that, then we might as well say our good-byes now, because I will not be back. I'm not asking you to like him or even accept him, but you will not speak poorly of him in my presence anymore. Is that understood?”

She did not wait for a response, but rather took hold of Derrick's hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Let's go home.”

He only nodded.

“Claudia! Claudia, you cannot walk out on me.” Her father's words trailed behind her as she marched down the hall, Derrick in tow.

“Do not walk out of here, girl; we're not done with our discussion.”

She heard his cane and footsteps tapping on the floor behind her, but she didn't stop. She didn't want to discuss it anymore. She didn't want to change her mind. For once in her life, she'd stood up to him, and she felt nervous and excited and sick all at once. Her blood pounded loudly in her ears, and she thought if she stopped walking, she might crumple to the floor.

“If you walk out of here, don't come back. Do you understand me?” he yelled behind her. “Don't you come back. Ever!”

She closed her eyes and stopped walking. She could feel Derrick's breath on her neck. He didn't nudge the small of her back to move forward, nor did he grab her arm and lead her outside, instead he simply stood there, behind her, allowing her to make this decision.

She hadn't wanted any of this to come down to her choosing, but it had. And she couldn't choose
her father. She loved him, and she'd wanted her whole life for him to accept and approve of her, but it didn't matter now. She didn't need it anymore. She was proud of herself and her accomplishments.

She chose her husband. She walked the few steps it took to cross the threshold, then closed the door behind her.

“You didn't have to do that, you know. You didn't have to choose,” Derrick said.

“Yes, I did.”

 

She didn't speak the entire ride back to their house. Derrick kept trying to think of something to say, something to make the hurt go away, but he was at a loss. Her father was a bastard; that was the only excuse. It wasn't her fault, and she shouldn't have to hurt because of her father's selfishness. She was a dutiful and loving daughter, one any father would be proud of, but for some mysterious reason hers was not.

She cried no tears, but rather sat quietly staring out the window as they rode home. He wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how. He wanted to kill her father for causing her such pain, but for obvious reasons he couldn't do that. She'd chosen him, and he was yet again deceiving her. All for good reason, but what would she say if she knew he was close to accusing her father?

Once they arrived home, he followed her up to their room, not wanting to leave her alone. He closed the bedroom door and turned to her.

“Claudia, I—”

She put her finger to his lips. “No. There's nothing to say. I'll be all right. A little shocked. Although I'm not certain why. I shouldn't be the least surprised. It's not as if he's shown me any warmth to indicate that he loved me and wanted me to be happy.” She tried to smile. “Honestly, I don't know what my mother saw in him.”

“Perhaps nothing. They could have married for any number of reasons.”

“She claimed she loved him. But maybe she only said that for my benefit. I can't imagine someone as gentle and loving as my mother giving her heart to that man. I've wasted so much time trying to please him.” She shook her head. “I don't want to talk about him.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She stood silently a moment, then met his gaze. “Yes. Right now I feel so numb, so dead inside. I need to touch you. I need you to touch me. I need to know that I'm alive and can still feel.”

He nodded.

She came to him then, her hands already unbuttoning her dress. Her eyes traveled the length of
him in a look so seductive and practiced, she looked more mistress than wife.

In an instant, her mouth was on his, hungrily kissing him. Her fingers fumbled with his shirt, and he tried to help her, but she pushed his hands out of the way. She was in charge. Had his mouth not been otherwise engaged, he would have smiled.

She peeled his shirt off and immediately began unfastening his pants. Already partially aroused, he grew instantly hard as her hand grazed him while unfastening his pants.

He tried again to touch her, to cup her breasts, and she moved his hands.

“No,” she said. “This time I want to do it.”

She needed to be in control, and he understood that. She'd fought her own desires her entire life, and tonight she'd stood up to her father for the first time. It would take more than one night of taking the lead in the bedroom to banish her demons, but it was a step. She finished removing his clothes and led him to the bed. He climbed atop it and turned to face her. Her beautiful blue eyes had darkened to the color of the sky right before a storm.

She gave him a lazy smile, then began removing her clothes. Slowly. Seductively. He was going
crazy with want for her. His loins ached for the warmth of her body.

First her dress came off, and she gave a little wiggle. Then her petticoat. Piece by piece, until she stood before him gloriously naked. He wanted to lick every inch of her pale, soft flesh.

His eyes moved to the triangle of hair between her legs, golden like the hair on her head. He longed to part it and bury himself inside her.

“Claudia, please.”

“Be patient.”

She sauntered to the bed. One hand grabbed onto a bedpost, and she tossed her head back, and her blond ringlets brushed against her plump bottom. He squirmed. She inched onto the bed next to his feet, then got on her hands and knees. Ever so gently, she crawled up his body, only stopping to rub her breasts against his legs, then his member, and then his chest.

She spread kisses up his torso and neck, lingering at his right ear, where she licked and breathed and nibbled until he thought he would lose his mind. He reached between them and cupped both her breasts, and she cried out. If she would but lower herself. He bucked up to meet her, and she released a low giggle.

“Do you want me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How much do you want me?” This time she looked him in the eyes.

“More than I've ever wanted anyone. Please.”

The change in her was dramatic, and it was all for him. He'd taught her to trust him enough that she felt comfortable being the dominant lover. His heart pounded rapidly. He loved her. God, how he loved her.

She lowered her body, and he felt the hot slickness of her rest against him. She moved a little. Back and forth, back and forth. Bloody hell, if she wasn't careful, he wouldn't make it very long.

“Claudia, I need to be inside you.”

She leaned in and kissed him while she lowered herself on him. She sat still for a moment before she began to move. Faster and harder she rode, and he thought he would explode, but he kept up with her.

She tilted her head back and squeezed her eyes closed. Tears slid down her cheeks, yet she continued to move. And then it was over, in a flash of pleasure. Her waves of pleasure subsided and still she cried. She collapsed on top of him, her curls brushing his cheek.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He said nothing, merely wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

I love you,
he wanted to say, but couldn't. Not
now. Not until he could be completely honest with her. Damnation. When she needed to hear it the most, and he couldn't bring himself to say it.

 

She listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. The crinkle of hair sprinkled on his chest tickled her cheek. She felt exhilarated and free. Never had she thought she would do what she'd just done. She'd never imagined the marriage bed could be pleasant, and Derrick had taught her differently, and now she was instigating their lovemaking.

She giggled.

“What's so funny?” He smoothed the hair at her temple.

“Married life is not at all what I envisioned. I'm not the same person I was mere weeks ago. I can't even believe what I just did.”

“You can do it anytime you want.” His hand slid down the length of her back and swatted at her behind. “I mean it. Consider me your personal love slave.”

Now that was a delicious thought. Every once in a while, it hit her that he was hers and hers alone. “Sometimes it doesn't seem real.”

“What?”

“Us. Our marriage. Sometimes I think I'll wake up and it will only have been a dream.”

He brushed the hair out of her face. “A good dream?”

“Yes. When we first got married, I wasn't so sure. I thought you were the wrong husband, that my life would be a terrible mess from then on. But the truth is, I married the right man. I'm happy with you, Derrick, and I hope someday you'll be happy with our marriage too.”