The Poor Relation

by Bennett, Margaret

  “This should be seen by a physician. You have lost a great deal of blood, and the wound may require cauterizing.”

  Camden did not answer. Instead, he slumped down in the chair, resting his head on the back of it. His expression remained impassive as she thoroughly washed the lesion, and though she knew it hurt him, he never once showed it.

  Once she’d finished cleaning the wound, she said, “As a precaution against infection, I am going to put some alcohol on it.”

  He grimaced but resignedly handed her the flask after she draped a strip of muslin across the shoulder. When she poured the whisky over the cloth, his body stiffened, and he closed his eyes against the pain and clamped his jaw shut. His facial muscles tensed and worked back and forth as beads of perspiration popped out on his forehead and upper lip.

  Taking a clean cloth, Chloe gently wiped his forehead. He grabbed her hand in an iron vice while his other so fiercely gripped the arm of the chair that his knuckles turned white. After a long minute, his body sagged in the chair, and he opened his eyes, now blood shot from the strain, and stared at her concerned face.

  “There’s no need to worry. I’m all right.”

  “Yes, you probably will be if you get into bed immediately to help ward off the shock your body has received,” she replied evenly.

  He laughed, a low rumbling sound. “Do you realize, my dear, sweet Chloe, that you have just propositioned me?”

  He still held her hand, although he eased up on his grasp and gently rubbed his thumb back and forth across her palm. It was a very suggestive action and she blushed as she tried to pull free of his grasp. He looked at their entwined fingers, then met her eyes before he released her head.

  “Let me help you to bed, my lord,” said Chloe in the most prosaic tone she could muster.

  “Will you join me?”

  Observing the ashen pallor that marred his bronzed coloring, Chloe shook her head in frustration. Apparently, a rake never lost interest in the art of seduction. “You would do better to rest for the remainder of the day.”

  He started to refute her, then seemed to think better of it and accepted the arm she extended him to rise up out of the chair. Smiling down on her, he placed his own around her shoulders.

  He put very little of his weight on her as they moved slowly toward the bed, and once more, Chloe suspected he was playing with her. She reached down and quickly flipped back the coverlet and gestured for him to climb into the four-poster bed.

  He had other ideas, however, and sat on the edge of the mattress instead. Searching her face, he asked, “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why? Because you have been shot,” she replied automatically.

  “No, I mean why have you gone along with this charade. You haven’t told anyone about the shooting?”

  She gave him a long look. “I hope I am a fair judge of character, my lord. Although your motives for sleuthing about have escaped me, I sense you are the good guy. Besides that, I find Monsieur Guyot . . . lacking,” she concluded with a mischievous smile.

  He bowed his head in mock salute. “Thank you,” he said, then turned serious again. “What makes you suspicious of Pierre Guyot?”

  “For one thing, your warning to keep away from him.”

  “Has he said anything out of the ordinary to you?”

  “Not exactly, but he uses every opportunity he can to quiz me about the people I know and how often I have seen you while out walking Lady Caro at night.”

  “Never allow him to get you alone, Chloe,” he said with such fierceness that she knew her instincts about the unctuous Frenchman were well founded.

  She walked back to the table with all the paraphernalia on it and tidied up the mess, wrapping the bloodied bandages up in the remnants of her petticoat, and replaced the basin on the bureau. Lastly, she tucked the flask in the pocket of her skirt.

  “You could leave that, you know.” His voice sounded raw and tired.

  “Now there you are out, my lord. My aunt would set up a hue and cry over its disappearance and wear her poor lady’s maid and me to distraction in the process of hunting for it.” Then, she returned to the bed and stood in front of him. Offering the flask, she asked, “Another sip, my lord?”

  He took the flash and upended it.

  After he handed the empty flash to her, she asked, “Will you rest now?”

  With a wry smile he answered, “Yes, that’s an excellent idea.”

  Suddenly feeling shy, she nodded her head in approval and went to the door. She opened it cautiously and peered out. The hall was empty and, overcoming the urge to glance at him one last time, she slid out the door, headed for her aunt’s room.

  Just as she was congratulating herself for having escaped detection, she was accosted by Judith Palmer. She stood inside the doorway of her bedchamber with a backdrop of pink and deep rose draperies and rugs that flattered her fairness. It was obvious that she was in high dudgeon.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Judith demanded in haughty tones.

  Flustered at first, Chloe looked around for a means of escape, but there was none. So, she squared her shoulders and as nonchalantly as possible replied, “Why, nothing really. I am on my way to Lady Milbanke’s room.”

  “Don’t think you can fool me,” the widow hissed with venom dripping from every word. “With my very own eyes, I saw you leave Camden’s room.”

  Returning Judith’s hateful stare with one of pure innocence, Chloe replied, “You are quite mistaken.” Inwardly she was quaking yet was amazed at her own boldness. “It was the Marchioness’s apartments next door to the Viscount’s from which I just emerged.”

  “Humph! I know what I saw,” Judith Palmer flung back. Then, placing one daintily clad satin foot to the door, she viciously kicked it shut.

  *** Chapter 14 ***

  Chloe maintained a post by her aunt and, while she fretted over his lordship’s condition, was actually relieved by his absence since it meant he was at least getting some rest. It wasn’t until evening, when everyone gathered for dinner, that Camden put in an appearance.

  To Chloe’s eyes, he looked drawn and pale with taunt lines about his eyes and mouth. But before she had a chance to inquire how he was faring, Judith Palmer pounced on him, lacing her gloved arm about his left elbow to prevent his escape. At once, Chloe saw him stiffen and then transfer the lovely vision in pale blue satin to his other side. To Chloe’s utter despair, the beautiful widow never once left the Viscount alone the entire evening, leaving Chloe no opportunity to talk with him.

  Throughout the night, however, Chloe felt his midnight blue eyes on her, and each time she glanced his way, it was to find not one but two sets of eyes fixed on her. Camden wore his habitual mask of ennui, hiding his thoughts. Judith Palmer, on the other hand, had let slip her semblance of pleasant social veneer. Her blue-gray eyes narrowed to mere slits, exposing a seething malice for Chloe as the widow’s sworn enemy.

  ~~~~~

  For Camden, the evening was extremely tedious. He craved a private word with Chloe to reassure her that he had more than sufficiently recovered from the ordeal and thereby erase her worried frown. But he could not shake Judith for five minutes. The jealous cat insisted on clinging to his arm, making him wonder each time she grabbed his bad arm if the Fates weren’t punishing him for past sins. Fortunately, each time he’d managed to adroitly switched her to his right side and thus maintain his usual sangfroid.

  Going in to dinner, a groan nearly escaped Camden when he saw that Judith was placed on his left. Quickly, he exchanged places with Sir Albert Morley, who tactfully never so much as blinked an eye. While this meant sacrificing Lady Sarah’s ingenuous remarks to his flirtatious sallies for Lady Sophia’s stale gossip, it definitely beat having Judith maul his left arm half the night. Even now the wound throbbed painfully, extracting its toll on his strength, leaving him feeling exhausted. He waited until shortly after the tea tray had been removed to announce he was retiring early, only to be rewarded wit
h a Cheltenham tragedy enacted by Judith.

  “No, Oliver, you cannot be so cruel, especially after acting so distracted half the night,” Judith complained. “You think I do not know that you went riding with Lady Milbanke’s little companion. Really, you are neglecting me dreadfully.” She turned her lovely visage up to give him the full effect of her bright teary eyes and rosy pouting lips. “If I did not know you better, I would suspect you of having developed a tendre for the little spinster.”

  Unmoved by her beauty, he fixed her with a long, cold look. “You mistake the matter, my dear. Any interest I’ve shown toward Miss Woodforde has been out of appreciation for a few favors she’s performed for me.”

  “I can well imagine the nature of those favors, too,” she snipped in an acidic undertone and cast another spiteful glance in Chloe’s direction.

  “Shrewishness is one of your less endearing traits, my dear,” he remarked derisively, then shucked himself of her hold.

  “Oliver, please, stay a while longer. I have not seen you all day.” But he ignored her plea and started toward his host when out of desperation she cried, “I have the jewels.”

  He halted in his tracks and stared at her, keeping his expression unfathomable. Camden could see her anger in the set of her mouth, anger tinted with fear in her eyes induced by blurting out that he was the anonymous buyer for the jewels Pearson had stolen. He watched her surreptitiously look about through her lowered eye lashes to see if anyone was paying them any heed. Finally, he asked barely above a whisper, “How did you come by them?”

  “I did as you bid, dropping hints about having a friend who was interested in acquiring some jewelry of heirloom quality, very discretely, and of course, at a good price.”

  “And Pearson took the bait?” he almost growled, for he wasn’t in the mood to play her idiotic games.

  He could tell that Judith was not pleased with his tone. Still under his searing gaze, she only hesitated a moment and said, “He said he needed the money to cover gambling debts.”

  “Naturally,” he said mockingly. “You have the gems in your possession?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “Leslie promised to deliver them tomorrow night.”

  “My name never came up?”

  “No, and neither did he ask who my friend was. He seemed anxious, Oliver, almost desperate to get his hands on the money. In fact, he could talk of nothing else. And just like you said, he insisted the payment be in gold sovereigns.”

  “Did he show you the jewels?”

  “Only one, a lovely diamond broach.” Her voice held an anticipatory note as her blue-gray eyes held an avaricious glint. “Quite the loveliest trinket I have ever seen.” There was no mistaking her meaning. She coveted the pin for herself.

  Camden let out a low, harsh laugh. “You never fail to disappoint me, Judith.” She looked at him quizzically, as though she were trying to decide if he was pleased or not, when he added, “If you continue to be a good girl, I’ll see that you are well compensated.”

  Obviously satisfied to receive such a sop for her wounded pride, she made no further protests when Camden left her side and quit the room. Though tired, his steps were purposeful for the time had come to marshal his forces together.

  Much later in the wee hours of the night after everyone had sought the privacy of their bedchambers, Camden was comfortably ensconced in his host’s study. The glass of excellent brandy he’d been sipping had helped dull the throbbing pain in his shoulder. Seated beside him in the mate to his leather wingback was Lord Gordon Howard, and behind the carved oak desk sat the Marquis of Clairmont.

  Somewhat away from the other, straddling a straight back chair, a fourth man sat twirling his black knit cap in one hand. Raikes’s clothing, a dark corduroy jacket and well worn buckskin breeches, was another factor that set him apart from the three noblemen elegantly attired in evening garb. Shortly before the Viscount arrived, Raikes had slipped through an open window and gave his report to the other two distinguished peers. Then, all three had listened with undivided attention to the Viscount as he described the curious events leading up to that evening. A heavy silence followed while each man digested all that had been imparted before Lord Howard spoke up.

  “To further muddy the water, Camden, Mrs. Palmer saw Lady Milbanke’s companion leaving your room this morning. As one would expect, the widow insinuated the circumstances were quite different. My Agatha came to me right away when she heard the gossip. Agatha’s taken a liking to Miss Woodforde and didn’t much care for Judith Palmer spreading such a slanderous tale. I figured something was in the wind, but by Jupiter, never got the notion you’d been shot.”

  “Nor I, Camden, and I must say you did an exceptional job of hiding it tonight,” added the Marquis. “However, for our enemy to engage in such a cowardly stunt—and in broad daylight with a witness present—well, it must mean he is getting desperate.”

  “Thing is, Camden, can you trust Miss Woodforde?” asked Lord Howard.

  “I’d stake my life on it,” was his curt reply.

  Clairmont, rearing back in his chair to better study Camden, stated bluntly, “Sounds like you already have. I’m concerned the lady knows far too much of this matter.”

  “She knows nothing,” Camden corrected his superior. “Although she has caught me out enough walking that blasted mutt to suspect me of a great deal.”

  “Hhmmm.” Lord Howard didn’t sound convinced. But like the other gentlemen, he seemed surprised by Camden’s ready defense of Miss Woodforde. “I’ve seen Pearson and the émigré both sniffing around her,” Howard commented. “She might unknowingly give you away.”

  “She won’t,” Camden replied as he gave each gentleman a direct look.

  “How about the other mort?” Raikes asked. Normally he would not interject anything in such a discussion with the other two members of the peerage present. But he knew too much was at stake here.

  Camden leveled the wiry man with a knowing eye. “Plain and simple, Mrs. Palmer is greedy. She’ll do what I say for the reward, if for no other reason. She knows only what I told her, which was that I wanted the jewels to replace some of the family heirlooms I sold a while back to cover gaming debts. Whether she believes my story or not is immaterial.”

  “Don’t know as I would trust that one, Gov?” Raikes persisted with an uneasy note in his voice.

  “I never said a word about trusting the lovely Mrs. Palmer,” said Camden smoothly, although he quirked a questioning eyebrow. Raikes was a good man, but Camden resented any implication that he didn’t know his own business.

  Lord Howard cleared his throat in an attempt to defuse their dialog and asked, “Who’s the other Frenchman, Raikes?”

  “Don’t know, your lordship. He’s been keeping low during the day. Got to be hiding out or I’d a heard about him since a bloke that big ain’t likely missed. He keeps busy at night stalking the estate, that’s for sure.”

  “We’ve reason to believe he’s the French agent who is Pearson’s contact,” added Camden. “There’s also Guyot. He’s a mystery, always one step behind Pearson. We’re not sure if he’s a middle man or a toad eater, leaching off a friend. At any rate, both have been acting deuced peculiar of late.”

  “Begging your pardon, your lordship,” Raikes addressed the Marquis, “but if you were to ask me, I’d say Pearson’ll be making a dash for Dover soon to hop a boat so he can join up with them Frogs.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me none, Raikes,” concurred Clairmont. “Last report we got said his creditors were beginning to close in on him. That could explain why he’s trying to unload the jewels as well as sell the dispatches to the French.”

  “Captain Hawker has his men surrounding the estate,” Lord Howard reminded them. “He’s not likely to get away.”

  “Good.” Clairmont paused for a moment. “That means the stage is set. A message arrived this afternoon from Whitehall that said our courier was waylaid yesterday. Whoever the attacker was made off with the
diplomatic pouch containing the dispatches.”

  From the set of his jaw, Raikes was ready to do battle. “The courier, did the blackguard kill him?”

  “Fortunately, no,” Lord Howard said. “Our man took the main pike to Portsmouth and had stopped at the White Hart Inn in Guildford to change horses. Someone hit him on the noggin from behind when he went to the privy.” Howard shook his head. “He never saw his attacker.”

  “What happens next?” The Marquis directed his question to Camden.

  “We wait,” said Camden. “Raikes informed me earlier that Captain Hawker’s men have been put on the alert for tomorrow night, ready to follow your orders, my lord.”

  Clairmont nodded his head, apparently satisfied with Camden’s answer. “Very well, gentlemen,” said Clairmont, rising. “Let’s hope that tomorrow evening my wife’s ball will be a huge success and we nab our traitor at long last.”

  *** Chapter 15 ***

  Everywhere about the great house the next morning, footmen and maids were bustling and scurrying around, performing last minute preparations for the ball that evening. Most of the guests had ridden out with their host who was leading a short excursion around the countryside, more so to get the demanding aristocrats out of the way of the busy servants than anything else.

  Predictably, Lady Milbanke opted to lounge in her room in anticipation of the late night ahead, and Chloe dutifully remained behind. Se was on her way to the library to find another diverting Minerva press plot to read to her aunt when she encountered the Marchioness at the broad base of the stairs, instructing a footman where to place flower vases.

  Chloe hovered a few steps above her busy hostess, not wanting to appear too forward. She was dreading the day’s inactivity since the baroness required very little, especially with the redoubtable Hannah at hand. Any task would be welcomed and so Chloe asked, “My lady, perchance there is something I may do for you?”