Blackmail and the Bride (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 5) Read online

  Ashton Harewood choked on his wine, and fortunately Worsnop arrived with a maid and began serving the guests.

  Richard said nothing, just picked up his spoon, and Cressida inhaled the delightful smell of Mrs. Parsnip’s potato soup. She took her husband’s silence as his acquiescence and settled in to enjoy herself.

  “Were the casualty lists of any use, Mrs. Ridlington?” Pendrick asked, as he too began his soup.

  Cressida frowned. “I’m afraid so.” She could not look at Worsnop. “There was a name we knew. It was a difficult moment for all of us.”

  “And I’m sure there are many, many more homes in England feeling that same agony,” added Richard.

  It was an excellent opportunity to steer the conversation into the present political situation, and the consequent discussion as to the future of a Europe without the threat posed by Napoleon Bonaparte carried them all through the few courses offered.

  Mrs. Parsnip had outdone herself, which—given her tragic news—was unexpected. Cressida reminded herself to have a quick word of thanks with her before retiring.

  Over dessert, Lady Delphine flashed her claws once more. “I have neglected to compliment you on your charming gown, Mrs. Ridlington. Did you make it yourself?”

  “Oh no,” laughed Cressida. “It’s from Madame Gabrielle’s establishment, on Bruton Street. I’m sure you must have heard of her. She is excellent at creating dresses that suit the wearer.”

  “Ah,” said Lady Delphine, a slight frown marring her perfect forehead. “I had not realized you were in London.”

  “Yes, I lived there for a while. With my aunt, Phyllida St.Cyr. That was before we left for the Continent, of course.” She touched her napkin to her lips. “But I confess to adoring Madame Gabrielle. She staunchly declares that a woman’s gown should never overshadow the woman. She says that true beauty needs a frame not an ornament.” Her chin lifted just a little and she knew her smile was sweetly innocent.

  “She has achieved her goal, then, Mrs. Ridlington. Your gown is the perfect frame for your beauty.” Harewood dipped his head in a polite bow, his eyes sliding across to his sister who glowered at him.

  “You are too kind, sir. But it is, of course, my husband’s opinion that matters before all others.” Cressida modestly lowered her head.

  “Your husband is always pleased with your appearance, my dear. Have I not told you so a dozen times or more?” Richard’s voice was pleasant and supportive, and she glanced at him to see a slight curve to his lips. He knew what she was about.

  Which was a good thing, since her next words were guaranteed to cause trouble.

  “Your gown is so lavish, Lady Delphine. I cannot help but envy you your years, since it can only be shown to fullest advantage on a woman who has accumulated such poise.”

  Delphine bared her teeth in a snarl she almost managed to turn into a smile. “You are too kind. But I can see why you might be impressed by such a simple outfit. The less-sophisticated amongst us usually are.” She turned to Richard, dismissing his wife completely. “Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

  Before he could open his mouth, Cressida was there. “Lady Harewood-Lloyd. While such means of address might be quite de riguer in London circles, here in the country we prefer to respect our companions and refer to them appropriately. Given your past acquaintance with my husband, I believe you may call him Richard with impunity. However, the only person who may correctly refer to him as darling, is myself.” She smiled sweetly. “Do keep that in mind, won’t you?”

  She placed her napkin beside her empty dessert plate. “Since there are only two of us, I believe we should forgo leaving the gentlemen to their port, wouldn’t you agree? She looked Delphine straight in the eyes.

  There really wasn’t anywhere else for the other woman to go. She rose and nodded. “Of course.”

  The gentlemen were thus adjured to accompany the ladies into the small parlor, which they did in respectful silence.

  Cressida wanted to giggle. It was as if they were all quite suddenly afraid of attracting her attention. She admitted to herself that the entire evening had been a lot more fun than she’d expected, once she eliminated her apprehension.

  A thought struck her and she moved to her husband’s side as Worsnop rolled in the tea tray. “Forgive me but I must go down and see Mrs. Parsnip. She produced a lovely dinner and I want her to know how much we appreciated it.”

  Richard nodded. “Of course. Tell her that comes from me as well.”

  “Will you be all right?” She glanced at the others. “I’m afraid they may not be in the best of moods…”

  He shot her a quick grin. “That’s an understatement. But go. I can handle them. Perhaps it’s best if you retire?”

  What bliss. “Thank you. I don’t think I could keep it up much longer.”

  He touched her arm, a brief caress that warmed her. “I’ll be up soon. This isn’t going to be a late evening.”

  “Good. I’ll wait.” She smiled politely at the three Harewoods and whisked herself from the room, very happy to close the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Richard climbed the stairs to his bedroom with an enormous sense of relief. couldn’t wait to rip off his cravat, shed his formal evening wear and snuggle down next to his wife.

  He’d endured an hour and a half of mindless chatter, interspersed with barely concealed insults to Cressida from Delphine. She’d been bloody furious, pacing up and down the room, spitting out the occasional detrimental comment, and generally acting as though she were in a sophisticated London salon where such sharp sallies were applauded as bon mots. Her views on young women were arrogant and dismissive in the main, and now and again downright unpleasant.

  Richard knew he ought to remind her brother that in London there were more than a few powerful mamas who would not respond well were their daughters disparaged by a sharp-tongued woman with a growing reputation for bad behavior.

  But then again, it was no business of his what Delphine said or did. Their brief affair had brought a degree of pleasure to them both, but it seemed so long ago now. He could barely remember it.

  He did remember his wife was awaiting him, so after making sure the house was secured—Worsnop occasionally forgot to lock the front door—he hurried up to their rooms, finding several candles still lit.

  “Hullo. Are you still in one piece?” Cressida put down the book she was reading.

  “Barely,” he answered from the depths of his shirt.

  “Richard, should I apologize?” She looked worried.

  He tossed his shirt onto a chair and blew out all the candles but one. “Good God no. You were magnificent. I was astonished and rather pleased at how well you handled that damn woman.” He paused. “How on earth did you manage it?”

  She grinned. “I pretended I was Aunt Phyllida. She has a mean streak in her, and I’ve heard it more than once. As long as you phrase your insults politely, the world will accept them. Even applaud them.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t have to be her too often, but I have to admit it was a joy to watch you win that verbal duel.” He slipped from his breeches and sat on the side of the bed to finish undressing. Then he slid into bed beside her. “What were you reading?”

  “This.” She produced one of the diaries. “Before those dratted Harewoods arrived, I went and dug around in the library. The shelf area where Mrs. Parsnip said she saw our ghostly lady?”

  He nodded. “I remember.”

  “Well, tucked away low down, behind some other books, I found this bundle.” She pointed at the other two on the table. “They’re diaries, Richard. Ann Branscombe’s diaries.”

  His brows rose in surprise. “Really? That’s…astounding.”

  “Isn’t it?” She nodded and snuggled into his arm, holding the diary in front of them. “This is the earliest one, and it seems she began it right after she married Roger Branscombe.”

  “Have you read it?”

  “Not a lot yet. It�
��s not easy because Ann’s penmanship leaves much to be desired. But what I managed to decipher was the usual sort of newlywed stuff. She seems to have been very much enamored of Roger, so I doubt that it was an arranged marriage. Or if it was, then it was a fortunate one for her, anyway.” She frowned. “I’m not sure about Roger, since all this is Ann speaking.”

  “We must read more, then. Perhaps there are hints about our ghost in there.”

  She closed the diary. “That’s what I’m hoping. And if we have some peace and quiet, we can pursue this matter. But it will be hard with guests in the house.” She sighed and put the little book with its mates, turning back to him and slipping down onto the pillow. “Will they leave soon, do you think?”

  He slid down too, his arm around her, pulling her into his shoulder. “I hope so.” His hand stroked her arm. “I don’t like having them here anymore than you do.”

  She turned her face to his. “Did you love her, Richard? She acts as though she still plays an important role in your life.”

  Richard couldn’t help but smile. Only Cressida would ask such an honest question. She deserved an honest answer. “Once upon a time we were involved. It was brief, pleasant, and over before it developed into anything else. I hadn’t even thought about her in ages until she walked through that door today. So the answer is no, I never loved her. I merely enjoyed her company.”

  “And her body.”

  He swallowed. “Yes, that too.”

  “Is she…is she prettier than me?” Cressida’s words were hesitant.

  “No.” He dipped his head and pressed a light kiss next to her ear. “She never was. You are soft and warm, you smell right. You fit into my arms like you were made for them, and I want to kiss you. I don’t want to kiss her.”

  “Oh,” she sighed. “Yes. All right. Me too.”

  And with that, she turned in his embrace, slipped her arms about his neck and kissed him for all she was worth. It was wonderful.

  He kissed her back, hard in an instant, the easy familiarity building as they relearned each other’s tastes and contours. He couldn’t help his hand drifting to her hip as he pulled her against him, and felt his cock poking the softness of her belly.

  She wriggled, trying to get closer, and her grabbed a handful of her nightgown, pulling it free and up her body. His hand found warm firm flesh and he grasped her buttock, squeezing it as he shifted her, finding a home for his hardness between her thighs.

  “Mmm,” she breathed, a slight sound that inflamed him. “Oh that feels…so…”

  He kissed her hard, breathing in her moans as he rubbed himself against her soft sex, aware that she was now parting her thighs and welcoming him.

  “I want you, Cressy. I want to come inside you. I want you wrapped around my cock, to feel your heat. I want to bring you pleasure…”

  “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “Yes, Richard…I want that too…”

  He reached over to pull her nightgown over her head…and a piercing scream echoed through the air, reverberating around the ceiling and making them both jump.

  “That was no ghost,” she gasped.

  “Oh Jesus Christ,” swore Richard angrily, letting go of Cressida. “What the hell now?”

  *~~*~~*

  As furious as her husband, Cressida struggled from the bed. It had been so close….so very close. She had to fight the sobs of frustration as she wrapped herself in her robe and headed for the door, followed by Richard, now similarly attired.

  In the corridor, they discovered both Pendrick and Ashton Harewood yelling at Delphine to stop screaming. For it was she, standing in the middle of the corridor, who was still making such achingly loud sounds.

  Finally, as Cressida and Richard approached, her brother slapped her hard across the cheek and the noise cut off. For a moment Cressida’s ears still rang.

  Then she saw Pendrick holding something.

  Something white and fuzzy.

  Oh dear.

  “What happened? Is Lady Delphine all right?” She hurried to the group.

  Pendrick sighed. “It seems that this little lady mistook Delphine’s toes for a tasty treat.” He passed Zizi over to Cressida. “She’s yours, I take it?”

  Since Zizi was enthusiastically licking her mama’s face, Cressida couldn’t deny it. She just nodded. “I have no idea how she got into the room,” she said apologetically. “I am so sorry…” She turned to Lady Delphine. And then thought better of trying to apologize again.

  The woman had her brother’s handprint across her cheek and her gaze was anything but friendly.

  “I’m sure Lady Delphine understands,” said Richard soothingly.

  “No, she doesn’t,” hissed the woman herself. “This is an absurd situation. I have received nothing but insults since I arrived.” She glared at Cressida. “I should have expected as much from you, but I’m astonished you have apparently dragged your husband down to your level. Your behaviour has discredited Richard quite terribly and dinner was a barely passable attempt at real food. You should be ashamed. And then that…that rat…”

  “Delphine…” Ashton Harewood put his hand on her arm. “Calm down.”

  “I will not calm down. I have had enough.” She swung back to Cressida. “Your house is an abysmal disgrace, your servants are beyond ridiculous and your manners are no better than a milk maid, and an ignorant one at that.” Her fists clenched and Cressida slowly moved backward.

  “And you, Richard, well…I am disgusted. Just horrified that you would allow this worthless chit to get away with her atrocious attitudes and upstart behavior to her betters.” She glared at Cressida again. “She’s nothing more than…a Branscombe, and God knows they’re nothing special…” her eyes narrowed. “A Branscombe. Hah.” A vicious smile revealed her teeth once more. “I know who you are….”

  “Delphine,” interrupted Pendrick sharply. “Stop now.”

  But the flood of her fury was in full spate. She pointed a sharp finger at Cressida. “You’re nothing more than the bastard daughter of a traitor—don’t think that everyone doesn’t know it. And if anyone is in doubt, I’ll set them straight when I return to London. You’re no better than your mother obviously was, and breeding certainly tells.”

  She spun on her heel and walked back into the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Cressida clutched Zizi so hard, the pup yelped a little.

  “I say,” said Pendrick, apologetically. “That wasn’t the thing at all.” He looked at Richard, embarrassed and at a loss for words.

  “It wasn’t,” sighed Harewood. “We’ll be off first thing, Richard. Mrs. Ridlington.” He bowed and walked back to his room.

  “I will apologize for her words, but I know it won’t matter.” Pendrick shook his head. “She’s always had a mean streak, but it’s never been this bad.” He looked at Cressida. “Stay as you are, Mrs. Ridlington. You aren’t her and never will be. I don’t know about your heritage and for myself I don’t care. Some in London might, but that’s there and this is here.” He moved to her and patted Zizi’s head. “I envy you the here, since I must go back to town.” He turned to Richard. “I’ll say my farewells now, and I’ll make sure we’re gone early. Thank you for your hospitality, Richard, and you too, Mrs. Ridlington.”

  Silently, Richard bowed, an odd movement in his dressing gown, but he had to acknowledge Pendrick’s words. At least one Harewood was possessed of a smattering of decency.

  Separating, Richard walked Cressida and Zizi back to their room. She was still cuddling the dog, who seemed to understand that her mama was upset.

  As they finally closed the door behind them, she let Zizi down and watched her run off to her favorite chair. Richard came up behind her and put his arms around her. “I am very sorry you had to experience that ugliness, Cressy.”

  She shook her head. “It had to happen. I am who I am.” She was drained, shattered, her emotions awhirl.

  “Come back to bed. You need your sleep and so do I.”

&
nbsp; She sighed. “I think I need to settle a bit before I can sleep. You go ahead. I’ll come when I’m ready.”

  He looked at her, a direct look that gauged her words. She returned it, hoping that her inner turmoil and pain wasn’t showing.

  Finally, he nodded. “All right.” He returned to the now cold bed. “Don’t be too long?”

  “I won’t.”

  She lied, of course. She’d just been confronted with the bald truth that both she and Richard had accepted but not really discussed. She was a bastard. And Richard had married her not knowing the truth.

  Would it have made a difference? He said his family had many secrets and scandals. Surely none could be as bad as this…

  Finally, weariness overtook her. Her husband snored contentedly, and she tugged the covers over his shoulder as she blew out the remaining candle, now guttered low in the stand.

  She’d sleep alone this night. It didn’t seem right to claim the place beside him that should never have been hers.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Richard awoke alone, which continued to annoy him. He had become used to the warm weight at his side and missed it immensely.

  Then he remembered the previous night, and admitted that if he’d been in Cressida’s slippers he might well have needed a little breathing room to absorb all that had happened. Consequent upon that thought was the devout prayer that the blasted Harewoods had departed already and that he would never have to run into them again.

  He stretched, then realized what he’d just thought. The fact that he, the well-known fixture of several London clubs, was hoping not to run into people from those very grounds…well, it said a lot about how he’d changed.

  Perhaps Brussels had begun the process, because he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the numbers lost at Waterloo. He’d seen those men. Walked beside them in the streets, laughed and joked with more than a few, and shared evenings with them.