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Authors: Margaret Bennett

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With the bright morning sun beaming down on the gardens, she soon found her attention draw
n to the exquisite foliage. The Court’s topiary was a marvel of shrubbery sculptures shaped like boxes, rounds, and even a rabbit, a turtle, and an elephant.  The colorful array of roses was enchanting along with flowering shrubs, wild flowers, and exotic blooms of foreign plants in enormous vases.  Though she never saw a gardener, the meticulous upkeep of the gardens and myriad pathways suggested a small army of men were needed to cultivate the parkland.

Returning to the house no wiser about the bazaar incident, Chloe resolved to put it from her mind
as well as keep her distance from the notorious rake.  She sought out Lady Sophia and spent the latter part of the morning entertaining the dowager baroness.

For lunch, everyone gathered on the rear terrace outside the salon.  From there
, with Clairmont and his Marchioness leading the way, they leisurely traversed the garden of the west side of the house and crossed the park.  They skirted small groves of trees that broke the open expanses of cropped grass where the lawn sloped down toward a large natural pond and a small pavilion that overlooked the placid water.  Inside the gazebo and under the green canopy of a large and ancient oak, tables had been set up, covered with white cloths and place settings of china, crystal and silverware.  With a cloudless blue sky and light breeze, the tableau presented an idyllic scene.

Electing to be seated in the gazebo with Lady
Reaves and Sir Morley, Lady Milbanke dismissed Chloe, ordering her to join a younger set.  This was easily accomplished for Lady Sarah immediately snagged Chloe by the arm employing her to share a table with her.


Please come and keep me company with Monsieur Guyot and Sir Clarence.”  Then in a soft aside, the young girl said, “Forgive me, Chloe, but I feel positively plagued by Sir Clarence.”

And indeed,
that gentleman so monopolized Lady Sarah’s attention, Chloe could offer little in the way of distracting Reaves from his wooing.  Hence, she and the slighted Frenchman, after an uncomfortably formal beginning, discovered that the cultural differences between their two countries provided a safe topic of conversation.

At one point, his
beady brown eyes gave her a peculiar look.  “It is rare for an
émigré
as myself to receive the
sympathie
for difficulties encountered in a hostile land.”

“You are too hard on my countrymen,
Monsieur.  Most Englishmen understand your position, especially since you have lost your inheritance because of a common usurper.”


It is not easy, Mademoiselle, especially after Napoleon crowned himself emperor.”  The characteristic shrug of his shoulders was typical of the Gallic pragmatism usually displayed by so many of his countrymen.  “
Mais
, I contrive.”

The afternoon slipped by as a dozen liveried footman served the alfresco lunch of paper thin slices of ham, cold chicken, strips of veal and a variety of vegetable dishes,
and fruit tarts for dessert.  Freshly squeezed lemonade, ale, and an impressive wine selection were also served, much to Chloe’s chagrin.  Each time she glanced at her aunt, she observed a different tint to the crystal goblet in the baroness’s hand.

Throughout the meal,
Chloe continued to be surprised by the humorous side of Guyot’s oily personality.  However, there still existed something innately venomous about the Frenchman that his smooth manners could not completely hide.  Thus, Chloe welcomed the end of the meal when some of the other diners got up to stroll about the small lake.

She broke in on one of Sir
Clarence’s monologues and thanked Lady Sarah for her company, but she needed to check on her aunt.  Rising to approach the gazebo, Chloe took heart upon seeing that Lady Sophia’s eyes were clear and her mood remained gay, even if the color of her cheeks was brighter than the rouge she wore.

Feeling sated and wishing
to enjoy the glorious afternoon with a walk about the picturesque pond, Chloe mischievously invited her aunt to take a stroll down to the water’s edge.

“Good heavens, you must
be daft, child!” exclaimed Lady Sophia with a pained expression.  “My bones ache from all this fresh air as it is,” she added in a boisterous aside to Lady Reaves.

Nodding her
purple turbaned head sagely, the other dowager concurred.  “I can well sympathize with you, Sophia, being of delicate health myself.  It is just as I was saying earlier about one making sacrifices for the young.  But do see how well my Clarence and Lady Sarah are getting along?”

“What about you, my dear?” Sir Albert asked Chloe.  “Yo
u don’t seem to be suffering from this excess of fresh air?”

“Hardly,” snorted Lady Sophia, cutting off Chloe’s reply.  “
And well you know it, Morley.” In another loud whisper for Edwina Reaves’s benefit, she added disgustedly, “The girl’s forever out in this putrid air and still remains hale and hearty.”

“Just so,
” Lady Reaves remarked cryptically.  Her pale, watery eyes raked Chloe from head to toe, obviously finding fault with her healthy appearance.

“Now, ladies, enough,” interrupted Sir Albert.  Turning to
Chloe, he smiled.  “Come, my dear, if you’ll allow for an old man’s shuffling gate, these poor bones of mine could most definitely do with some exercise.”

“You may be somewhat advanced in age, Sir Albert, but you are hardly in your dotage,” laugh
ed Chloe as the spry old gentleman came to his feet, then admonished two dowagers to behave themselves while he was gone.

Looping Chloe’s arm through his own, Sir Albert set a leisurely pace as they meandered along the grassy knoll by the edge
of the small lake.  A short distance ahead, they saw Mrs. Palmer and the Viscount with Lady Sarah, Sir Clarence, Monsieur Guyot and Mr. Pearson.

“How are you faring, my dear?” asked Sir Albert kindly,
drawing Chloe’s attention from the group in front of them.

“Very well,
Sir.  As you just heard, my health is disgustingly robust.”

Patting her hand on his arm, he chuckled appreciatively and,
  more pointedly, inquired, “And the rest of the company, how do you find them?”

“They make a diverse group but congenial enough.  Of course, it hardly matter
s since Aunt Sophia—“

“Your aunt ca
n manage quite nicely by herself when she has a mind to,” he said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.  “Besides, she’s got a damn superior henchwoman in Mrs. Rowes.”

“Yes, Hannah is a dear,” Chloe replied, smiling fondly at the elderly gentleman.  “Still, you know
Lady Sophia tends to overindulge and become ill at these gatherings.”

“True, but she’ll do just fine.  You’ll see,” he reassured her
, patting her arm again.  “Trust me.”

They caught up with the others, who ha
d stopped to observe a mother duck and her babies nesting on a rock formation that jutted out into the water.  Somehow in the course of exchanging pleasantries, Chloe found herself positioned next to the Viscount while Sir Albert had gained possession of Mrs. Palmer’s arm and ear.  As one, they began the trek back to the gazebo with Camden hanging back to bring up the rear with Chloe.

“How is your charge, Miss Woodforde?”

“My charge?” asked Chloe, a little confused.

“Why yes, Lady Milbanke.  You act more like her nanny than a companion.”

“Do I? Perhaps it is because I understand her.”

“What could there possibly be to understand about an old
dowager pining over her lost youth?”

His
tone was sarcastic, unforgiving, and Chloe raised her eyes to meet his cold dark stare.  “You should know there is always more to a situation than what meets the eye, my lord.”

He seemed surprised by her comment as one dark eyebrow lifted in challenge.  “Pray, enlighten me.”

She was pensive for a few moments before she answered.  “Lady Milbanke never had any children, my lord.  Add to that, her husband, though kind, was indifferent to her needs.  She has always been comfortably fixed, even if no great fortune existed on either side.  For such a woman with only ordinary looks and leading an ineffectual life, she often felt useless and overlooked by her peers.”

“Is that how you visualize yourself?” 

Chloe threw him a side glance, then let out a chuckle.  “Perhaps several years ago I may have, but I have no qualms about my position.  Unlike so many of the
ton
, my parents’ marriage was the exception to the rule.  Theirs was a love match and I became an extension of that love.  My childhood memories are all happy ones.”

For once Camden’s expression was unguarded, his midnight blue eyes regarded her with a faraway look.  “You were indeed fortunate to have had loving parents.”

“At any rate, Lady Sophia is important to me.  I have no one other than an insufferably priggish cousin.  My aunt has given me not merely a place to lay my head but her affections as well.”

“Yet, you still remain answerable to her beck and call.” 
When Chloe nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders, he probed, “Have you no desire to be your own mistress?”

“Of course, it would be unnatural of me not to want my own home and family.  And to be honest, I was given that chance.  My cousin arranged a match for me with a neighboring land owner, Squire Sidney Hampton.  He was
a widower and nice enough, I suppose.  He married late the first time and must have been all of fifty years old with a parcel of unruly progeny still at home.  Somehow, I could never endure the way he looked at me.”  Involuntarily, Chloe shuddered and drew her shawl more snugly about her.

Camden, in turn, moved closer but
stopped himself from putting an arm about her.  The absurd notion invaded his mind that he’d like to protect this unspoiled woman from the lustful Squire Hamptons of the world.  Instead, he said, “You deserve much more.”

“No, there you are wrong.”  She saw that he meant to dispute her and hurried on.  “Consider, if you will, our way of life, those of us privileged enough to be born of the aristocracy.  The many advantages and luxuries available to us are all but denied to the populace simply because the higher echelons of society have erected class barriers to ensure the masses are kept at bay.  And remember, I did have my chance, my lord, for most marriages of the
beau monde
are contracted for social advancement or financial gain.  So do not waste your pity on me.  The choice was mine, and I alone am responsible for my present circumstances.”

“Hence, you merrily play nursemaid to an
old, drunken dowager,” he said with a cruel twist to his lower lips.

“Nay, you are too harsh,” she said, bestowing a sad smile on him.

“How so?” Her sincerity puzzled him. Any other woman would have taken this opportunity to gain his sympathy.  Losing himself in the bright clear depths of her hazel eyes, he realized she was far prettier than he’d first thought.  Even with her honey-gold tresses pulled back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, her hair looked rich, silky.  The yellow muslin gown with its high waist and a green satin sash tied under a full bosom enhanced her slender figure while the simplicity of the cut and design gave it an elegant appearance.  Or was it the enchanting wearer who gave the gown its elegance?

“My aunt drinks to deaden pain, some imagined, some rea
l,” she continued.  “As the third daughter of the Earl of Tilberry, she never came to grips with her life, always seeking more, but never able to achieve it.  Mayhap this lack of fulfillment resulted from being barren.  Who knows, but it is not my place to judge.”


Have you no fear of a similar emptiness as you grow older?  After all, bound as you are in a servile position, your chances of attracting an eligible
parti
are greatly decreased.”

H
is eyes dropped to the smooth expanse of creamy skin above the low cut bodice of her gown and thought it ludicrous that Miss Woodforde, whose pretty face and figure were enhanced by a quiet inner beauty he’d rarely encountered, would never marry.  Just as unbidden, he was struck with the vision of the old squire, or another satyr like him, abusing this serene and elegant woman, and his blood ran hot with anger.

His eyes remained fixed on her low décolletage, and he saw her raise a hand to her bosom in a protective gesture.
  Though this brought him out of his reverie and he redirected his gaze to her flushed countenance, he still felt ready to do murder.  Only now, he wished to throttle some sense into the young woman for underestimating her own worth.  Instead, he gritted his teeth.

“A thousand pardons,
Miss Woodforde, as my own behavior could only bring to mind your lecherous squire.”

They had reach
ed the gazebo, and without another word, Camden pivoted on his heel and strode toward Lord Howard and the Marquis.  Thus abandoned, Chloe stood for a moment.  His sudden anger was bewildering as were his references to Squire Hampton, and then his abrupt departure.  She wondered what she had said to have upset him.  Rejoining her aunt, Chloe mentally vowed to redouble her efforts to keep her distance from the perplexing nobleman.

BOOK: The Poor Relation
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