The Poor Relation (4 page)

But it was her large hazel eyes, honest and trusting, that intrigued him.  Those honest eyes he’d encountered at the Rose and Thistle.  Those trusting eyes that told him she wouldn’t tell his secret earlier tonight in the drawing room.  And he wondered why.  

He slowed his pace as he entered the woods.  Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he picked his way cautiously along a narrow bridle path.  He hadn’t gone very far when he came to a small glen and halted.  His eyes scanned the perimeter, locking on a dark shape separate from a tree trunk and move
d around the glen’s edge toward him. 

Recognizing the small wiry frame, Camden took a step away from the tree he’d used for concealment and greeted his friend.  “Have you any news?”

Raikes, with his black knit cap pulled low on his forehead, stepped out from the shadows.  “Aye, Gov.  Met up with Captain Hawker of the Royal Horse Guards.  His patrol’s been assigned to this area.  Ain’t going to make our job any easier.”

“Perhaps, but it can’t hurt,” Camden said.  “Any word from London?”

“Newspapers carried the story about the Duke of Cambridge’s jewel heist.  Could explain Pearson’s rush to leave Town.”

“Maybe, but how is he to turn the jewels into cash?”

Raikes shrugged and said, “There’s more.  Heard the Runners are hard on his heels.  Seems he owes everybody and his brother.”  

“Hear anything about the missing diplomatic pouch?”

“Mum’s the word, Gov.”

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Camden said.  “The Marquis and Howard expect us to flush out our bird before he flies to the continent.”

As Camden headed back to the Court, he contemplated the Marquis’s gamble.  Everything was in place.  Now they waited for the culprits to make the next move.  And if all went according to plan, the guests would never learn the reason behind this house party.

At the edge of the woods, Camden halted to survey the gardens for something out of the ordinary.  Not that he expected anything to happen this early in the game.   And it was a game, a dangerous one that he’d started before he’d inherited his title.  He was also good at it and found himself unable to quit.  But he was tiring of it.  And whereas the conniving Judith Palmers had been challenging and entertaining at one time, he now saw them as greedy, selfish women who’d d
o anything for money and a title.

His thoughts were suddenly disrupted as he espied a large dark looming figure creeping along the tall hedges.  And heading directly toward the hedge was the stalker’s quarry--Miss Chloe Woodforde.

Cursing under his breath, Camden decided his best chance of overtaking the hulking brute was to take him from behind.  With the other man’s attention on Miss Woodforde, it was easy for Camden to sneak up and deliver a crushing blow to the back of the Goliath’s neck.  But instead of going down, the brute grunted, turned, and tackled him.  Still, Camden managed to deliver several solid punches to the man’s midsection before he connected with the man’s jaw.

The giant went down.  Camden leaned over and wiggled the massive head back and forth but got no reaction.  The leviathan was out for the full count.

“Who’s there?”

Camden heard Miss Woodforde calling over the yapping Yorky.  Running fingers though his hair, Camden stepped over the inert man-mountain, pulled down his vest, straightened his jacket and shot his cuffs. 

  He reached the end of the hedge just as Miss Woodforde was making the turn.  Grabbing her arm and stirring her in the direction of the Court, he asked, “What are you doing here, Miss Woodforde?

“I heard noises,” she said, looking over her shoulder.

“Ahhh, yes, I’ve been walking about.”

“It sounded like two people fighting, my lord.”

“No doubt you heard me clearing my throat.” Damn, Camden thought, the woman had to have a death wish.  “What are you doing out?  A stable hand should walk that dog at night.”

“I enjoy walking the gardens at night.  It’s not something I can do in Town.” 

She sounded a little breathless, so Camden slowed his steps to a more sedate walk and released her arm.  “Where is your maid?”

“My aunt’s abigail helps me when I need assistance.  Besides, it is peaceful in the country and especially at a place like Clairmont Court.  I feel quite safe.”

“Nowhere is a beautiful young woman safe, Miss Woodforde.”

“I appreciate your consideration, my lord.”

A low chuckle escaped Camden.  “I’ll take that to mean ‘mind your own business.’”  They stepped up on the terrace, and he took her elbow and guided her toward the salon’s French doors he’d left unlocked.  “I believe I owe you my thanks for not giving me away.”

She lowered her eyes.  “It is none
of my business, my lord.”

As they reached the French doors, he drew her to a halt and studied her for a moment, then said, “Still, I thank you and hope we can keep this between ourselves.

“You have my word.”  Her large hazel eyes met his, and again he was struck by her openness, her honesty.

Camden picked up Lady Caro and handed the dog to her.  “Good night, Miss Woodforde.” 

He watched her traverse the salon and enter the hallway before he closed the French door and made his way back to the hedge.  Rounding the hedge, he stopped.  Whoever the brute was, he was gone.  He scanned the gardens and the perimeter of the woods but saw no one. 

***  Chapter 4 *** 

After rising early and dressing in a green and yellow sprigged muslin gown, Chloe headed downstairs to break her fast.  Aunt Sophia would not
stir before lunch, so Chloe decided to spend the morning exploring the Court’s extensive grounds and, specifically, the area around the hedges.

It was early enough that she was surprised to find the breakfast room already occupied.  Dressed for riding in a brown coat and leather bre
eches, the Viscount Camden rose upon her entrance and gave her a most engaging smile.  “Late nights do not seem to bother you, Miss Woodforde.  You look lovely this morning.”

The warmth in his eyes brought heat to
Chloe’s cheeks, and she quickly lowered her eyes. Knowing that he was merely being polite, she was angry with herself for actually feeling flattered.  After all, he was an infamous rake.  “Thank you, my lord,” she said, sitting in the chair he’d pulled out for her. “I see you are dressed for riding?”

“I ride most mornings,” he said and then smiled.  “Brutus’s sire was a black Arabian and has the devil’s temperament.  A hard ride each morning keeps him from abusing the stable hands.”

He took his seat next to her, and she accepted a cup of hot chocolate from the footman and chose a scone from a silver basket on the table.  Applying blackberry jam to the scone, she decided to turn the focus away from herself and said, “Pray forgive me, my lord, but I can’t help but notice that your knuckles appear bruised, swollen even.”

Camden looked at his right hand, holding his fork, then at Chloe. “Probably from sparring with the Gentleman Jackson yesterday morning
before I left London,” he said and speared her with a challenging glint in his dark blue eyes.

Accepting his game, she smiled sweetly.  “I take it you came away the winner?”

He quirked one black eyebrow and returned her smile. “Have no doubt of it, Miss Woodforde.”  He toyed with the kippers on his plate, then put his fork down.  “You are an early riser?”

“Yes,” she answered.  “It gives me time to myself as Lady Milbanke does not rise until midmorning.”

He reached for his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair. “How do you amuse yourself?”

His dark gaze held
hers, and Chloe gave him another smile.  “When in the country, I walk.”

Again the raised eyebrow. “With Lady Caro?” 

Chloe laughed.  “Not in the morning, my lord.  My aunt’s abigail sees to Lady Caro then, for she too is a slug-a-bug like the baroness.”

“Do you plan to walk again this evening?”

“Yes, if the weather holds.”

“I see.”  He looked at her thoughtfully before he gave her an inviting smile.  “Remembering our conversations, Miss Woodforde, perhaps you will desist walking late at night?”

His smile seemed genuine and his request was a simple enough, yet Chloe judged his meaning was more of a warning.  Again, she found herself wondering if Amy Sansbury’s gossip held more truth than rumor.  Answering honestly, she said, “Most nights do not pose a problem as Lady Milbanke tends to retire early.”

He inclined his head and said, “I am greatly relieved to hear that, Miss Woodforde.”  With that, he
rose, bid her good day, and headed for the door.

The door opened and Monsieur Guyot came to a halt.  Chloe watched as Guyot’s glare quickly changed to a smile, and he bowed and gave Camden a cheery, “
Bonjour
, my lord.”

“Monsieur Guyot,” Camden replied, “you are up early.”

“
Oui
, the sun is bright and the day promises to be delightful.”  Guyot ran his eyes over Camden’s attire.  “You are going riding,
oui
?”

“Yes, in fact, I am on my
way out now.”  Slipping past the Frenchman, Camden said, “Good day, Monsieur.”

Guyot stood for a moment watching Camden’s retreating back before he seemed to recollect that Chloe was watching him.  Entering the breakfast room, he greeted Chloe, then went to the sideboard and filled a plate with the assortment of breakfast foods.  Taking a seat across from
her, he said, “You know the Viscount well,
oui
?”

His tone implied much more, making her feel uncomfortable, but Chloe decided to ignore it and shook her head.  “No, Monsieur, we have just met,” she said, then bid him a good morning and headed for the door.

~~~~~

When Camden returned from his morning ride, Tindall, the Clairmont
s’ butler, took his hat and riding crop and said, “The Marquis has requested a moment of your time, my lord.  He is in his study.”

Located on the ground floor, the study, unlike everything else at the Court, was a small intimate room with walnut cabinets on one wall and several chairs group
ed around the fireplace.  The Marquis sat behind a large walnut desk, and seated in one of the matching armchairs facing it was Sir Gordon Howard.  Both gentlemen rose to greet the Viscount, who took the seat next to Howard.

The Marquis came straight to the point.  “You were out last night, Camden?”

“I met with Raikes,” Camden answered.  “The London papers reported the theft of the Cambridge jewels.  However, there has been no word about the missing diplomatic pouch or the courier’s death.”

“A rum business if ever there was one,” said Howard, shifting in his chair.  “We still haven’t found the leak.”

“The person may not even know what he did,” offered Camden, “especially when you take into consideration who we suspect as the traitor.  More than likely, he leaked it accidentally while talking with a friend.”

“It’s possible,” said the Marquis. “Still, we can’t afford for it to happen again.  Has anything occurred to raise your suspicions?”

Camden considered his answer before saying, “Last night, after I met with Raikes, I spotted a large mountain of a man stalking about the grounds near the woods.”

“Did you get a look at him?” Howard asked.

Camden shook his head.  “Other than to identify his size, no.”

Howard leaned forward in his seat.  “Could it have been a poacher?” 

“I don’t think so,” Camden replied.  “His actions suggested he was snooping around.”

“After you?” asked the Marquis.

“I don’t think so,” Camden hedged as he remembered Miss Woodforde’s trusting eyes.  For some reason, he felt reluctant to mention the young woman’s involvement and so altered his tale.  “I saw no one."

“I’ll alert my staff to keep an eye out for him,” the Marquis said. 

“Also, Raikes reported that Captain Hawker and his patrol are in the area,” Camden added.  “I feel confident we can proceed with our plans.”

The Marquis rose from his chair.  “I assume Mrs. Palmer understands the role she is to play."  When Camden nodded, he said, “Very well, proceed.”

As Camden and Lord Howard stood, Howard said, “You’ve only to ask if you need anything, Camden.”

“Thank you, my lord, however, I expect things to play out as we’ve discussed.”

~~~~~

Angry with herself for being so taken in by the Viscount’s debonair manner, Chloe shook her head
to clear her thoughts of the infuriating rake.  She needed to concentrate on the matter at hand.  After seeing the Viscount’s bruised knuckles, she was sure he’d been involved in the scuffle she’d heard behind the hedges last night.  Thus, her fist destination, after running to her room for a wide brimmed bonnet, was the area behind the huge hedge where the struggle had taken place. Threading her way across the damp lawn, mindful of the moisture blotting the hem of her gown, she circled the tall hedge several times, her eyes downcast for any sort of clue.

To her utter frustration, she found absolutely nothing.  Not even the grass was flattened to show where a body might have fallen since the morning dew had worked it
s magic, springing the cropped lawn back to life.  Having methodically searched the parkland behind the hedge back to the woods, she allotted all was for naught and retraced her steps, then aimlessly strolling among the garden paths, mulling over what probable cause the Viscount might have had to come to fisticuffs with someone.