The quiet house lay in darkness. The fitful moonlight failed to reach the dark recesses. Harriett trailed her hand along the wall as she followed the carpet runner toward the stairs. She passed her parent’s bedchamber and heard her father’s reassuring snores. When she reached the landing, the clouds cleared and thankfully, moonlight shone in through a two-story window to light her way down the stairs and save her from measuring her length. The cold marble penetrated the soles of her thin house slippers as she descended. The light was better below, she hurried to the front door, slid back the bolt and turned the big brass door handle. The door was locked. Moaning in vexation, she ran to the walnut hall table, and breathed a sigh of relief, when she discovered the heavy key in a drawer.
Harriett turned the big key in the lock. The noise seemed abnormally loud, reverberating around the lofty hall. She paused to listen. Only the loud ticking of the grandfather clock and the soft scuffle of mice behind the wainscoting. Easing the door open, she stepped outside, and closed it behind her. A cool breeze swirled around her and she gathered her shawl more tightly over her shoulders.
Clouds scudded across the sky. The crescent moon burst free to bathe the gardens in a chiaroscuro of silver light and deep purple shadows, the woods dark and menacing. Aware of the time, she increased her pace, guided by the scent of lilac bushes bordering the path. A sharp snap came from the trees, as if something heavy had trodden on a dead branch. She kept walking fast, almost stumbling as she stared uselessly into the shadows. Her throat dried from her harsh breath as she fought the urge to run back to the house. Gerard had told her to go back if she was afraid. He may have gone home himself. The thought made her feel very much alone and she sucked in deep, steadying breaths taking the fork in the carriageway which led to the stable block. A fox’s red eyes stared at her from out of the dark before it darted away. The coarse gravel painfully poked her feet through the thin soles of her slippers, and an owl swooped down over her head in a flurry of giant wings. The squeak of some small creature made her shudder. The bird rose with its prey in its beak and flapped away into the night sky. Ahead, the stable block seemed deserted. Rubbing the prickles at her nape, she hurried forward.
There was no sign of Gerard. Her heart sinking, she crossed the cobbles, longing to call out to him. She stopped near the black space where the stable door stood open, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Nothing, but the occasional shuffle of a horse moving in its box. Had he given up and gone home? She felt terribly alone.
Footsteps sounded somewhere behind her. She swung around, but the clouds chose that moment to advance on the moon. Dark descended. Vulnerable, and more than a little annoyed at Gerard, she took two steps back toward the stable.
The footfall came closer, slow and hesitant, as if they listened too. The crunch of gravel told her they walked along the drive. Different scenarios flashed through her mind. Was it Gerard? Had someone followed her? Had her father discovered her gone and come to find her? The moon escaped the clouds to cast its silvery light over her. Exposed, Harriett stepped back through the stable door into darkness.
A hand covered her mouth, and an arm around her waist drew her off her feet, throwing her flat on her back in the straw. The wind knocked out of her, Harriett lay speechless against a hard body which half covered her.
“If I take my hand away, will you be quiet?” Gerard’s whisper came out of the dark, feathering her hair, his breath scented with his after dinner brandy.
She’d not uttered a sound! Indignant, she had a strong urge to rebuke him, but having no breath left to do so, she merely nodded. And she was weak with relief that he was here.
He drew his hand away.
Loud banging split the silence. Someone opened and shut stall doors, searching. For them?
Gerard piled straw on top of them. She opened her mouth and was about to demand an explanation, when the big hand returned like magic. “Absolute silence. Is that something a woman can understand?” he hissed in her ear. His breath tickled and, dreadfully nervous, she had to fight not to giggle. The impulse ceased abruptly, when he proceeded to cover them both entirely in straw. She heard the stable door shoved wide. Through a gap in her dusty covering, which tickled her nose and made her want to sneeze. A silvery shaft of moonlight shone in across the floor. Gerard eased his boot beneath the straw which brought his knee up to nudge Harriett’s bottom. His big warm hand settled on her waist and her dress edged up over her knees. She would be outraged if she wasn’t so scared. Gerard’s hand squeezed her waist in silent warning. He moved his hand and she felt something hard nudge her thigh. She froze. Her questioning mind went blank as a man’s dark form crossed the ring of moonlit floor. Harriet went rigid.
A horse whickered. With a growl, the man kicked at the straw. He uttered an oath. Harriett flushed at his foul language, and struggled to hold her breath. He stood for a moment, as if listening then picked up a pitchfork from the ground and drove it into the hay. She shuddered and almost cried out; expecting the next jab to slice its way into her flesh, but Gerard’s warm hand quieted her.
The bark of a fox sounded in the distance. Muttering, the man swiveled and with a fulsome curse, threw down the pitchfork and left the stables. She and Gerard lay stock-still, listening as his footsteps crossed the cobbles. They faded into silence.
She threw off the straw and scrambled to her feet. “Who was that?” She tugged her dress down over her legs.
“Not sure. Couldn’t get a look at him.” Gerard jumped up. He had a pistol in his hand.
Harriet stared at the pistol, as light dawned.
Gerard shoved it back into his pocket and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Sit down. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m already filthy. How will I explain this to Mama?”
“I should never have let you leave the house. I don’t wish to explain your death to your mother. Take the dress off if you like, I’ll not complain.” Standing within the shaft of moonlight his worried look belied his flirtatious words.
“Gerard…”
“Be still, Harry. Please.”
Down on her knees, Harriett scattered straw searching for her shawl. Finding it, she pulled it out.
“Your gown is undone at the back,” Gerard said, “I’ll do it up for you.”
She drew in a sharp breath she was naked underneath. “It’s all right the way it is.”
“You’ll catch a cold. There’s a cool breeze tonight. Why didn’t you wear your pelisse?”
“It wasn’t in my room,” she said defensively.
He grabbed her shoulders. “Turn around.”
“Well really,” she protested, affronted at being manhandled. Aware by his tone that he wouldn’t be put off, she turned her back to him.
“Your hair is like a cloud of burnished gold,” he said, sweeping her tresses over her shoulder. “Seeing it this way reminds me of when you were a schoolroom miss. Don’t have so many freckles now.”
“I had very few freckles,” she said incensed.
“You still have a small scattering over your nose,” he murmured. “They suit you.”
Gerard’s strong fingers worked at her dress, his knuckles grazing against her spine. His touch stirred Harriett’s nerves to fever pitch.
“Why do women’s clothes have to be such an infuriatingly complicated arrangement? This design is more complex than a maze. Men are able to slip in and out of their clothes with ease.”
“Not the tight coats the Bond Street beaus wear. And some men wear corsets!” Wondering how many other gowns he’d wrestled with, she held the bodice of her gown against her breasts as his expert fingers looped the strings.
“Well you’re not wearing a corset, Harry, or a petticoat.”
“I couldn’t manage them on my own.”
“Which rather makes my point doesn’t it.”
If there was a point, she’d lost the sense of it some minutes ago. What was she doing here with her reputation at risk? He grew silent as he worked. She tried
to breathe normally. One breath in and one out. In and out. Why did he take so long? His fingers moved closer to the two dimples at the base of her spine. She tingled all over and fought the urge not to pull away.
“You have very soft skin, Harry.” His voice sounded gruff.
She let the breath out in a gasp. “Do I?”
“It’s so pale.” He tugged more forcefully his breathing labored. “Do you never wear anything under your gowns?”
“Of course I do!” She jerked away from him and heard a ripping noise.
“That’s torn it! What did you do that for?”
“You were standing on my flounce! And it’s none of your business what I wear under my gowns.” She moved away, dragging the shawl with her. “I’ll never be able to explain this to Mama.”
“Let me finish this.” He grabbed the loose ties of her dress and drew them forward beneath her arms.
“I’ll finish it, thank you.” She snatched the strings from him. There was no way she could endure his knuckles touching her unfettered breasts on the high-waisted gown. She tied a neat bow under the bodice, and arranged the shawl over her shoulders.
He huffed out a sigh. “I’m sorry Harry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come out here tonight. I must have lost my mind.”
“And you’ve told me nothing. Have you no idea who that man was?”
“Couldn’t get a good look at him. It would have helped if he’d spoken.”
“He did speak. He cursed, most dreadfully.”
“Hard to tell from a cuss word. I’m sorry you heard that, Harry. But I assume you’ve never heard the word before, and wouldn’t be aware of its meaning.” With a cautious glance left and right, he took her hand and walked out of the stables. “Best we say no more on the subject. I need to get you back to the house.”
Actually, she had discovered the general meaning of the curse word, when she’d read some seventeenth century poetry at the London Library, although it hardly fitted the circumstances.
He strode along, pulling her with him. “Try to convince your parents to return to London.”
She doubted she could move her mother. “You are pulling me off my feet, Gerard.”
“Sorry.” He slowed down a step, but still clasped her hand. She wriggled her fingers and he only firmed his grasp.
She was panting in an effort to keep up with him. “I demand you tell me what this is all about, and where you went the night we stayed at Foxworth.”
In the moonlight, Gerard’s expression hardened. “The night of Harrison’s death? Why not say it? Do you think I killed him, Harry?”
“No, of course not! I wouldn’t be here with you now if I did!”
Gerard stopped so quickly, she almost fell over her feet. He sighed. “You’re dashed persistent.” His roughened hands slid down her arms, to grasp both her hands. “But a right game girl.”
“You’ll not distract me from my purpose, Gerard,” Harriett said, extremely distracted as he planted a kiss on first one hand and then the other.
He looped her arm through his and they continued at a more moderate pace. “I’ll tell you as much as I can, but it’s getting close to dawn, the farm workers will be up before long.”
Harriett was suddenly aware that the sky had lightened a shade to grey and a misty, lavender glow rose on the horizon as they neared the house. Comforted by his big body close to hers she smothered a yawn.
“Harrison and I worked together,” Gerard said.
Surprised and suddenly very much awake, she jerked away from him. “What sort of work?”
“A year ago, an official from the war office in Whitehall asked Harrison to spy for the army. Harrison was a soldier before he married Aunt Elizabeth. He earned a campaign medal for bravery.”
“Did he?” Harriett could hardly believe it.
“Yes. The Springers.”
“The what?”
“The 28th Foot. He was at the Battle of White Plains. Pendleton makes a perfect spot, placed, as it is so close to Dover. French spies are as thick as thieves along the Channel coast. When Harrison’s rheumatism worsened, he found it painful to walk even with the aid of a stick, and negotiating the steps was too difficult. He was eager to continue but needed help, so he asked me to assist him.
“I was keen to join up and fight, but I couldn’t leave Foxworth, which supplies food for the army, and there’s the matter of an heir.” He paused. “What would happen to Foxworth if I died without issue?”
She firmed her lips on a sigh. It appeared he planned to marry soon. Would it be Leonora?
“I relished a chance to do my bit for the country, and we devised a plan,” he said lowering his voice as they approached the steps leading up to the house. “I would convey the dispatches to Harrison that a British agent left in that brown leather satchel you found. We would take it in turns to travel to London and pass them on to someone there.”
“You went to Whitehall at night?”
“We could hardly do that during the day without telegraphing it. We shared a mistress.”
She widened her eyes. “You and Harrison?”
“In name only,” he said mildly. “At least as far as I was concerned. Can’t vouch for Harrison.”
She scowled. “She was attractive, I suppose.”
“I can’t say I noticed. I was tired by the time I got to London, and wanted to get the business done with, and get some sleep before dawn.”
He didn’t sound convincing. She studied his face in the poor light, attempting to dismiss the vision of him with some dangerous and possibly beautiful spy. It really wasn’t any business of hers what he did. Gerard was a red-blooded man. “Harrison never came to visit us. We believed him to be seriously ill.”
Gerard gave a low laugh. “Apart from his rheumatism, he was perfectly well.”
“He wasn’t bedridden? He seemed so cantankerous.”
“It was mostly an act, designed to fool everyone into believing him incapacitated.”
“He didn’t fool everyone.”
“No. Perhaps his regular nightly trips to London did attract attention. It’s possible it wasn’t random. The murderer might have infiltrated Pendleton, become a member of his staff.”
“Then he may be still here,” she said with a shudder.
“We might have seen that person tonight.”
“I hope you’re wrong. Why would he stay here when he could be discovered and arrested?”
“He hasn’t found the thing he killed for.”
Harriett rubbed her arms. “My father should be told of this.”
“Are you cold Harry? You should have worn more clothes.” He arranged her shawl around her shoulders. “I’m afraid I can’t tell your parents. I’m sworn to secrecy. That’s why I’d prefer you to go back to London. Otherwise, everything at Pendleton must continue to appear to be normal. It could be any one of the new staff. I need more time. I must be absolutely sure, before I act. I can’t accuse people without proof. And it must be done in a manner that doesn’t endanger the network. It might bring the whole operation down like a house of cards, and damage a lot of people.”
“It’s a pity we didn’t see that man’s face.”
“If he was the murderer.”
“What? Of course he was. He tried to kill us.”
“Did he? He gave up easily. If he’d tried in earnest I would’ve shot him.”
“He might have followed me from the house. This is very dangerous for you, Gerard. Can’t you just let the constable and the magistrate deal with it?”
“No. I can’t afford to jeopardize the operation or the safety of our contacts.”
They crossed the gardens keeping to the shadows. “Hopefully, whoever saw us will believe it to be a lovers’ tryst,” Gerard said grimly.
Harriett stared at him. “It might help if he saw us meet again. I could be your cover.”
Gerard halted half-way up the stone steps. “Shush. Voices carry on the still night air.” The dark outline of the huge mansion
loomed at the top of the rise. “That’s a risk I’m not willing to take. I can’t have you drawn into this.”
“Do you think he might go to my father and tell him he saw us, um, kiss?”
“Not if he values his job. What would he gain from it? If he’s a spy he’d prefer to lie low—go about unnoticed.”
“I’m not sure I care if my reputation is compromised.”
He chuckled. “If it has been, Harry, I shall have to marry you.”
“You won’t have to marry me, Gerard,” Harriett said, stung by his indifference. “I’d prefer to become an eccentric old maid with a scandalous past than marry under such circumstances.”
“Don’t wish to marry me, eh? I’ll safeguard your reputation, Harry. I promise you. Your idea isn’t a bad one. Sorry we can’t do it. Too dangerous.”
She stopped and tugged at his sleeve. “Why not?” She would need to organize her clothes better. “You said yourself that you needed a good reason to be seen roaming around Pendleton at night,” she said reasonably.
He raked his hands through his hair. “No Harry. I prefer you to go back to London.”
“Mama has no intention of leaving until she’s whipped Pendleton into shape. She feels she owes it to Harrison. So I’m here whether you like it or not.”
“Your idea is very tempting, young Harry.” He lifted her chin with a finger and gazed into her eyes. “Not afraid?”
“A little,” she confessed. She felt safer when Gerard was with her. He seemed so strong, and capable. She liked that he was hardheaded and rational. And loyal to old Harrison. Harriett smothered a sigh. She was more uneasy about keeping her true feelings from Gerard, and risking her heart, than she was about a murderer lurking around. “I’ll be fine, as long as you stay with me.”
An Improper Earl Page 5