Courting Claudia (19 page)

And with that he turned and left.

“I
t's an excellent drawing, Claudia,” Poppy said.

Claudia glanced at the illustration, holding it up so she could inspect each detail. It might well be her best drawing yet. Pride swelled in her chest, and she smiled. A pictorial of her and Derrick. It would debut as the first full-colored illustration in the paper.

They looked happy. Like a happily married couple. She couldn't wait for Derrick to see it. After his reaction to the first drawing of the two of them, perhaps this one would please him. She
looked at the image of herself, and it looked like her, not a caricature of what she thought people saw. Used to think, she corrected.

“Yes, it is, isn't it? I appreciate you letting me make this quick stop. I realize I could give it to him at home. I am still a paid employee. But this drawing is special, and I want to bring it to him.”

“We don't have to go today. I'm not really in the mood for shopping anyhow,” Poppy said.

“We are going shopping. It will take your mind off things. I won't be but a moment.”

“I'll wait here.”

“Perfect.”

Claudia made her way up to his office and looked around, but Mason was nowhere to be seen, so she knocked on Derrick's door. No answer. She cracked the door and peeked inside. No Derrick.

She made her way to his desk and decided to leave him the illustration as well as a note, and they could discuss it later tonight, as she wasn't sure when he'd return.

She glanced around for some parchment and grabbed the quill. She set quill to paper to pen her note, but something caught her eye. Something with her father's name on it.

She picked it up and began to read. As she read, her world crumbled to her feet.

She sank into Derrick's chair and stared at the paper until the words blurred into a black smear. Embezzlement. Murder. Suicide. So her father had been the one Derrick had suspected. Two weeks ago she would have been positive her father wasn't capable of such atrocities, but now she wasn't so sure.

How could Derrick have written this without speaking to her first? He'd said he didn't want to accuse anyone until he was positive of his guilt. Surely he was positive, or he wouldn't have written this piece. But still he'd said nothing. He'd obviously had suspicions about this for a while now. Why hadn't he come to her first?

She grabbed the article and left his office. She stepped into the carriage and nearly burst into tears at the sight of her friend, but she swallowed hard and faked some courage.

“You look dreadful. What's the matter?”

Claudia recounted the article and all the details within.

“So what do you think of all of it?” Poppy asked.

“I'm not certain. I'm angry with Derrick for not coming to me first. I'm not positive all of his allegations are sound. And I'm frightened that they are, and my father is a horrible man.

“The embezzlement doesn't surprise me. But I
am hesitant to believe that he murdered Richard. I was so certain that it was a burglary.” She looked up at Poppy. “You know the last time I saw my father alone, he tried to convince me that Derrick killed Richard. Which was ridiculous because Derrick and I had been together the entire time.”

“If he's guilty, then it makes sense that he would try to throw you off his trail, so to speak.”

“I suppose. But murder, Poppy. My goodness, I'd only recently come to terms with the fact that he'd never be proud of me. I've made peace with the fact that his standards were too high, that I was never going to be the daughter he wanted me to be. I never dreamed he'd kill someone.”

“So you believe Derrick?”

“I know Derrick would never print a story without confirming the facts.” And then it hit her. “Oh my goodness, this will clear his name, bring honor back to his father's name.”

“What are you talking about?”

She shook her head. “It's a long story. Suffice it to say, Derrick and Richard had a past, and it looks like my father was to blame for a lot of things. I can't believe he wouldn't come to me to tell me what he'd found. He obviously doesn't trust me.”

How could she have been so blind? He'd said he'd never lie to her again, and she'd foolishly believed him.

“Clearly Richard and my father were right. Derrick married me for the details of this story.”

“This doesn't prove any such thing. Did you know anything about your father and embezzlement? No. Then how could marrying you help Derrick in his endeavor? Seriously, Claudia, do you think he had a master plan all along? Ruin you in public so you'd be forced to marry him, and then he could ruin your life by accusing your father of crimes against the crown? And you accused me of having an active imagination.”

“You don't understand. He's spent the better part of our marriage teaching me to trust him. Yet he cannot offer trust in return. If he would have simply come to me with all of this…”

“You'd have done what?”

“I don't know.”

“You'd have gone straight to your father. Don't you see, he kept this from you to keep you safe? To prevent you from getting hurt. He loves you, Claudia.”

“No, he doesn't.”

“You're so sure?”

“Yes.”

“I've seen the way he looks at you. That night at your wedding ball. It was as if you were the only woman in the world. No matter how many men ask me to dance and try to steal kisses in the dark, no one has ever looked at me that way. Like they could really see me.”

“If he loves me, then he would have told me.”

“Have you told him?” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“No,” Claudia admitted.

Poppy didn't understand. Claudia looked down at her hands. Her wedding ring sparkled as if winking at her. Mocking her. Her husband didn't trust her, and he didn't love her.

“Why not? You love him. With your logic, if you love someone, you tell him. Right?”

“Why are you so angry with me?”

“You need to look around you. Stop being so blind to what is right in front of you. You have everything we've ever dreamed of.” She shook her head. “I'm not certain why Derrick didn't tell you about the story first. I'm not certain why he hasn't told you he loves you. But I know he loves you, I've seen it. And I'm fairly certain that also means he trusts you. He's only trying to protect you.”

The carriage stopped. Bond Street—their shopping trip.

Poppy opened the door. “Go home and talk to your husband. I'm sorry I can't offer you compassion, but I find myself lacking in sympathy today. Don't you see what you have? You have the kind of marriage I'll never have.” Her eyes shone with tears.

“Give Derrick a chance to explain these things to you. Be patient with him, and be happy with your relationship. In time, I know he'll express his feelings for you. If you let this stand in the way of your happiness, you're a fool.” She stepped out of the carriage. “I'll find my own way home.”

Claudia sat back against the seat cushion and watched Poppy through the tiny window. They'd never before fought, and she wanted to be angry about Poppy's harsh treatment, but found she couldn't. The truth was, she was only hurt. Hurt by her father's betrayal. Hurt by Poppy's anger. And hurt by her husband's flagrant lack of trust in her, when he demanded time and again that she trust him.

There were things to be said. She needed to hear some things herself. She gave the driver the address. But first it was time for her father to be honest with her.

“D
o I have any messages?” Derrick asked Mason as he stepped into his office.

Mason looked blithely up from his paperwork and shook his head. “No. Everything seems to be running smoothly today.”

Derrick nodded, then entered his office. His meeting had lasted longer than he'd anticipated, and he was ready for the day to end. Ready to go home. To Claudia.

He sat at his desk to make a few notes for the following day, and that's when he saw it. Her illustration, an illustration of them from their wed
ding ball. He picked it up and admired her skill, and then his heart nearly stopped beating. Claudia had been in his office. He rummaged through the papers littering his desktop. Where was the article? He knew he'd left it right here on his desk; he'd planned to take it to Kennington tomorrow as a final threat. Derrick picked up her illustration and walked into the hall.

“How did this get here?” He held the illustration up for Mason.

Mason looked at him blankly. “I'm not certain.”

“Did you see my wife?”

“No, but I was gone for a while.”

“Bloody hell.” She'd been here, and she had taken the article. He tossed the illustration on Mason's desk and tore down the stairs. He had to find her, needed to explain before she came to the wrong conclusion, which inevitably she would.

He ran into their house yelling her name, checked the parlor and the library with no luck. He was headed up the stairs when the housekeeper came in view, but she assured him that she hadn't seen Claudia all afternoon. That Claudia had left earlier to go see her friend.

It didn't take him long to get to Poppy's house, and he knocked none too gently on her front
door. He was shown in and sent the servant to find her.

Poppy rounded the corner and spotted him. “She's not here, if you're looking for her.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Yes, I was with her earlier. At your office.”

“She has the article then?”

“Yes.”

“Damnation.” He rolled his neck in a vain attempt to relieve the stress.

“Exactly. I tried to make her see reason, but she wasn't interested in listening. Don't lose her, Derrick, she loves you.”

He didn't respond, merely nodded and turned on his heel and left. There was only one other place she could have gone.

Kennington.

Derrick's blood ran cold. The bastard would likely kill her, if she accused him of such crimes. Derrick's heart slammed back and forth in his chest. He had to get to her. Now.

 

He had been drinking again. He stood at the window, and she could see it in his agitated manner and smell it in the room. His hands shook at his sides.

“Father, I've come to discuss something with you.”

He turned as if she'd startled him. Red lines, like cobwebs, clouded the whites of his eyes. “We have nothing to discuss. Unless you've left that worthless husband of yours.” He raised his eyebrows in question.

“I need to know what happened to Richard.”

He shrugged and gave a little laugh. “How the hell should I know?”

“Well, if you won't tell me about him, then tell me about Chester Edwards.”

He eyed her for a moment. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you have anything to do with the embezzlement he was accused of?”

“Where are you getting these ideas?” Then he released a laugh that snaked up her spine. “From your damned husband?”

She lifted her chin.
Be strong, Claudia
. “As a matter of fact.” She retrieved the parchment from her bag. “He has this article ready for his paper that implicates you in quite a few crimes. I came to ask you if any of his allegations are true.”

His eyes narrowed and focused on the paper she clutched to her chest. “So you don't believe him?”

She didn't want to answer that. She didn't want
to believe Derrick, but deep inside she knew the accusations were true. She felt it. But even that made her question. What if her instincts were wrong? Again.

She needed to give her father one last chance, an opportunity to be truthful with her. She could forgive his transgressions, if he cared for her enough to be honest.

“I merely wanted to hear your side of the story,” she said.

“I have no side.” He waved his hand in front of him and nearly lost his balance. “Your husband is a liar. He's trying to set me up. He printed that other story years ago, and Edwards offed himself because of it.” He shrugged. “Now I suppose he's trying to get me to do the same thing. But it won't work.” He pointed a bony finger at her. “No one will believe him.”

She took a deep breath and swallowed the fear and anger that threatened to consume her. “His evidence is quite compelling.”

“It's all lies.” He stumbled across the room and poured himself another drink, half of which sloshed onto his desk. “Richard Foxmore was a liar too. He promised he'd marry you, the spineless cur. And you! I told you to do whatever you could to trap him, but no, you'd already lifted your skirt for that bastard Middleton. You just
can't trust people to do things right. If you want something done, you're better off just doing it yourself.”

She winced as her last threads of hope frayed away. Her father didn't love her. He never had. He wasn't looking out for her best interest. He was, and always had been, manipulating everyone around him to fit in some master plan. Derrick's story was right. Every word of it. Her father was a calculating murderer.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. The door opened, and she saw Derrick out of the corner of her eye. Relief washed over her quickly, followed by a sickening fear that almost made her sink to the floor.

“Claudia, I'd like for you to come home with me now. There is much we need to discuss.” His tone was even and soft.

“He's a bastard, that husband of yours,” her father said, speaking of him as if Derrick hadn't just entered the room. “Clearly he married you just to print that rubbish. He needed you to validate his story. Without the connection to you, no one would ever believe him.”

It was the same thing Richard had said that day in the garden. The very same thought that had raced through her head when she'd read the article. Derrick had used her to further his pa
per's reputation; to put himself back in the public as a serious writer. Regardless of her father's guilt or innocence, Derrick had used her, and it hurt. And here and now, Derrick said nothing to dispute it.

It had been easy to trust him, but he'd twisted that trust and convinced her to trust her instincts. She'd been such a fool. From the very beginning, she'd known that Derrick didn't want her, couldn't possibly want her. He had to have been after something. He'd admitted as much when they got married. But she'd foolishly thought the charade had ended there. She never imagined he'd orchestrated this elaborate plan.

She'd spent her entire life fighting her feelings, trying her damnedest to squelch her emotions and put on a more appropriate façade. And he'd come along and convinced her she didn't have to do that, convinced her simply to trust herself. She'd allowed it too, let go of propriety, turned her back on her father, and trusted her own instincts.

But now she wasn't so certain her instincts were wise. Because even now in the midst of Derrick's betrayal, her heart screamed for her to wait, not jump to conclusions, to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes, blurring her view of her father as he bent to retrieve something.

She needed to keep her father talking. She desperately wanted a confession out of him. “What does Derrick have to gain by ruining your reputation?” she asked.

“I'm an important man, Claudia. Calling into question my reputation would sell twice as many papers as he usually sells. Don't be so daft.”

A flash of metal caught her eye, and she saw a pistol dangling from her father's right hand. She took a brief moment to absorb the situation—she'd never had to fear for her life before and was surprised that she was not afraid. There was no way for her to escape. If she turned to run, he could easily shoot her in the back. She hadn't a clue what kind of aim her father had, but she was so close, he would be hard pressed to miss.

She saw the sheen of metal as her father raised the gun and aimed it at Derrick, and her blood chilled. Despite her husband's betrayal, she loved him, and she would not allow her father to take him away.

“Claudia, come with me.” Derrick held his hand out to her, but his eyes never left her father.

“She's not going anywhere,” her father said.

Derrick took a step forward.

Her father moved the gun so that it pointed at her. “Don't take another step. I'll kill her.”

“You don't want to kill her.” Derrick's voice was even. “I'm the one you want.”

What did she do now? Someone was going to get shot. She let the feelings wash over her, gauged her surroundings. Her father's face was contorted with rage. Derrick seemed calm, although his hands clenched at his sides.

She had to play this right, or her father would shoot Derrick. No matter if the gun was aimed at her or not, Derrick was the one in danger.

It was up to her to save him.

“Papa, listen to me. I see now that Derrick's story is full of lies. You were right. He married me to get to you. I understand that now.” She kept her focus on her father's face, not wanting to see how her words affected Derrick. She reached one hand out. “Give me the gun.”

He shook the pistol. “I'll kill you, girl. Don't play games with me.”

“I'm not. Trust me. I should have listened to you and never married him. He's beneath us, not worthy of being associated with your good name.” She took a step toward him, clutching the article tighter to keep her hands from shaking. “It's all
lies, Papa, I know it is. I know you didn't blackmail anyone, and you didn't embezzle that money. And I know that you're not capable of murdering anyone. Isn't that right?”

She waited for him to answer. Sweat rolled like beads down his forehead. He glanced at Derrick and then back to her. It felt as though her heart were splintering. Regardless of her father's horrible deeds and Derrick's betrayal, she still loved them both.

“Tell me you're not capable of murder, Papa. Then I can know your side of the story is true.”

He came around the desk toward her, all the while keeping the gun aimed at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Derrick move toward her as well. She took a step closer to the fire and held the article near the flames. Both men moved closer. To the article, not her, she reminded herself.

And then in a brief second, both men were upon her. Derrick grabbed her and pulled her out of the way, while her father snatched the parchment from her hands. Derrick tackled her father, knocking him to the ground.

The gun slid across the floor.

“Find me something to tie him up with, then call for the magistrate,” Derrick said.

She took one last look at her father and finally recognized the nagging feeling in her gut. Pity.

 

Derrick and Claudia had managed to keep her father controlled until the magistrate arrived and then answered a string of questions once they had. They hadn't spoken to each other since the authorities had taken her father. Now, on their way home, the darkness of the carriage surrounded her, and she could scarcely see her husband's form sitting across from her.

Claudia's mind swam with thoughts, trying to grasp all that had occurred in the span of one day. Her marriage was a charade, and her father, whom she'd spent her entire life trying to please, was a criminal.

Without him to trust, she felt as if she had no one. This morning, she'd trusted her husband and believed he trusted her as well, but now they would have to start all over again. Unless their marriage couldn't be repaired. How could she stay with a man who neither loved her nor trusted her?

It was evident that he cared for her. He'd at least shown that he was concerned for her safety, and she was grateful. But she loved him, and she could no longer ignore those feelings.

Her heart pounded so loudly, she was certain he could hear it. But regardless of her nerves, they had to talk; there were things she had to know.

“Derrick?”

“Yes?” His voice was soft with a hint of a question.

“I'm trying to understand everything that has occurred today, and I need your help with some of it.” She tried to remain calm, but the myriad of emotions flowing through her blood made it an impossibility. “Can you please tell me how you thought it was acceptable to investigate my father and print an article about his crimes, without even once mentioning any of it to me?”

“You weren't supposed to see that article.” He sounded tired, defeated.

“I gathered that much. But wouldn't I have noticed when it appeared in your paper?”

He closed the small distance between them and sat beside her. She felt him hesitate a moment, then he reached for her hands. He clasped his large hands around her smaller ones and shrouded them in warmth. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend for a moment that all would be well. But the sick feeling in her stomach questioned his every movement, every motive.

“I had no intention of actually printing it in the paper,” he said. “I only wrote it to frighten your father. A few days ago I asked him to leave town, told him I wouldn't bring this to the authorities if he'd leave quietly. I wanted you safe. I needed to know you would be safe. I felt with him out of our lives for good, you would be. But your father refused to leave, so I penned the article and planned to send it to him as confirmation.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he put a finger to her lips. “Wait, let me finish. Today when I knew you'd seen those words, seen the accusations I'd made against your father without talking to you and informing you that I even had such information, I didn't know what to do. I knew I needed to get to you, to explain, before you thought the worst of me. I've never cared much for what people think of me, Claudia, but I couldn't live with you thinking the worst of me.”