My Lord the Spy

by Audrey Harrison

  Clara blinked; she had not expected his tone to be so harsh and was confused. The way he was with her seemed to go against what he said. “And yet you visit acquaintances when in another part of the country, which is a little contradictory, isn’t it, My Lord?”

  Edmund smiled slightly; she was no fool, but he could not give her false hope. “Your brother is entertaining for one so young.”

  Clara remained silent at the comment. She was under no illusion that it had been said on purpose to quash any romantic thoughts she had. The problem was, she did have thoughts she now realised were completely at odds with her companion. She forced a calm expression on her face, realising that the lump of lead now in her chest would be hard to remove.

  Edmund noticed the stiffening of her posture; oh, she tried to disguise it, but he was trained to watch even the slightest movement another made. He could kick himself, and he inwardly cursed Henry to hell; he was hurting her, and she was the last person in the world he wanted to inflict anything but happiness on. His internal cursing turned quickly on himself; he was being a fool! She was pretty and entertaining, but he was a complete idiot if he allowed himself to become embroiled with her. He would hurt her in the end; it was better she learned sooner rather than later just what a cold cad he really was.

  The pair soon turned back towards where Milly sat. “Does your cousin draw well?”

  “Yes, she’s very talented. She would be good enough to have her paintings hung in any drawing room, but her family are the fortunate ones; she gives them as presents. We have an excellent portrait of Charles in the gallery.”

  Clara returned to her cousin’s side, leaving Edmund to stand behind them until the group gathered together again. Both inwardly unhappy with the outcome of their walk.

  The party soon returned to the house and enjoyed refreshments before the gentlemen left with an invitation to join the Bakers for the evening. Clara was relieved that Joshua had been relatively quiet while in the presence of the guests; she could only hope that he remained a little overawed by the company.

  *

  The seating of Mr Shambles at a dinner table that contained two Earls, one gentleman and a Baron was always going to be trying. Mr Brandon, his wife and spinster sister had joined the party along with the Earls of Chertsey and Grinstead. Clara had half hoped that the two titled gentlemen would join them only when the Beresfords made their party larger but, once they had made their initial visit, it was inevitable that Charles would immediately invite them to join them for the evening. He loved to entertain, and he would genuinely presume a larger group would provide more entertainment for his friend.

  Joshua was seated between Milly and Mr Brandon’s sister, a lady of more than thirty years. Clara hoped that Miss Brandon would be less likely to condemn her company than some of the others in her group, Clara included. She was relieved to notice Joshua did not appear to be showing his usual arrogant tendencies. In fact, he seemed to be doing his best to be as unobtrusive as possible. It seemed, though, that Lord Grinstead did not like the presence of Joshua in their midst; Clara had noticed a few dark looks the Earl had sent in Joshua’s direction.

  When the party gathered in the drawing room, Clara was persuaded to play the piano for the company until she entreated Miss Brandon to take over. Edmund had listened to Clara with pleasure but, as she turned the pages for Miss Brandon, he approached Milly.

  “I believe you are a prolific artist, Miss Holland,” Edmund started.

  Milly blushed slightly. “And I believe my family overestimate my talents, My Lord.”

  “Hanging a portrait in the gallery is hardly a place for family favouritism. It would take an indulgent family member indeed to hang some of my early paintings.”

  Milly smiled. “A fellow artist, My Lord?”

  “No, a keen amateur when I have the inclination, which I confess is rare these days. I would like to see the portrait of your cousin, if it isn’t too much trouble,” Edmund asked.

  “If you’re sure, I don’t mind showing you, even though it is vain to be showing off one’s work in such a way.”

  “If you don’t tell, neither will I,” Edmund responded and left the room with Milly.

  Clara noticed the movement, and her frown betrayed her inner thoughts. Jealousy towards Milly for being private with Edmund were quickly dismissed; she had no right to feel envious: he had made it clear he had no intentions other than to be a rake.

  Edmund was taken up the stairway and through the upstairs public rooms until they reached the long gallery. Milly had explained a little about the house as they walked: that the title and land had been in the family since the English Civil War, the Bakers being loyal to Charles the Second. Eventually Edmund was brought to the base of the portrait that hung alongside all the ancestors of the Baker family and exclaimed in genuine appreciation.

  “Miss Holland, you have been too modest! No wonder the picture hangs here; it is as good as any other portrait!”

  Milly beamed at the praise. “Thank you, My Lord; it is very kind of you to say so. Charles was actually a difficult subject to paint; he hardly kept still. It was a good thing I’ve known him from birth; I could paint most of it from memory.”

  Edmund was genuinely amazed that the quiet Miss Holland had produced a painting just as good as any of the others on the wall In fact it would not have been out of place on any wall in the many stately houses that existed in the area. The young Charles stood proudly by the side of his favourite horse, looking out over his estate. She had captured the open nature of the boy, his easy smile barely suppressed for the serious painting.

  “Have you produced any others that are on show?” Edmund asked, walking along the portraits when he had studied Charles’ to his satisfaction.

  “I have one other.”

  Milly seemed reluctant to admit to more, which stirred Edmund’s attention. “Really? Lead on Miss Holland; I need to see it.”

  Milly sighed and led the way down to the bottom of the Long Gallery. She stopped in front of a smaller portrait and nodded at it. “This is it, My Lord.”

  Edmund stared at the picture before him without saying anything. It felt as if the air had left his lungs; for the first time in his life he was breathless. The laughing eyes of Clara gazed up at him. Milly had captured a look of mischievousness, but yet the look was sensual. She sat looking as if she were about to bound out of the seat with a laugh on her lips and throw her arms around him to kiss him. Edmund had to stop himself from reaching out and touching the picture, it was so lifelike.

  “My cousin is very pretty,” Milly said quietly, watching the range of emotions flit across Edmund’s face.

  “No one could disagree with that,” Edmund said equally as quietly. It was as if he did not wish to disturb Clara; as if she would turn away from him if she heard him speak. “You have captured her perfectly.”

  “She hates this picture,” Milly admitted.

  “Why?”

  “She says I’ve been too kind to her.”

  “You have portrayed her as she is when she’s not worrying about her brother.”

  “She should not worry too much over Charles. He will settle, soon if his plans with Miss Beresford work out as he wishes,” Milly said.

  “Everything seems to change after a marriage,” Edmund admitted.

  “Yes, there will be less gadding about. Charles is one who will adore the wife he chooses; there will be no room for gaming hells then, but a marriage of two equals will virtually guarantee their future happiness.”

  “That sounds so simple and easy, Miss Holland.”

  “Not at all. I have seen the result of mis-matched marriages far too often, but when two people truly love and care for one another, marriage can be a wonderful thing. I am thankful to have seen examples of that type of union.”

  Edmund would have normally dismissed such sentiments, but for the first time in his life the thought flashed across his mind that it would be indeed pleasurable to find someone who one could
wake up to every morning. He did not need to question why the thought had emerged; since he had seen that dark hair and blue eyes, he was having a number of strange notions he needed to rein in if he was to not to do something that he would regret.

  “So you think your cousin is ready to settle down even though he seems to be enjoying the freedom his fortune has given him?” Edmund asked, changing the subject to safer ground.

  “He’s met the right person; time is immaterial,” Milly said with a smile.

  “I don’t know if his friend realises.”

  “I think he will after the conversation I had with him this evening,” Milly responded with a chuckle.

  “Your cousin will thank you for your interference. She is deeply concerned for her brother’s welfare,” Edmund said, happy his conversation with Milly was proving so informative.

  “We all are, but Clara more so since the death of her parents. Come, My Lord, you have indulged my vanity enough; let us return to the party.”

  Edmund was deep in thought as he followed Milly to the drawing room. He would dream that night of obtaining the impossible; settling down with one particular young lady, thoughts which, during the day, he could dismiss as ridiculous.

  *

  The house was in darkness before the figure emerged from the side of the building. Taking an indirect route, the figure kept to the shadows provided by the large building and the foliage planted at the sides of the house to act as a windbreak. He entered the balcony of the summer house and lit a lantern. Confident his light could not be seen from anyone looking out of the building he had just vacated, he waved the lantern until he received an answering signal from the open ocean. Dimming his own lantern once the signal had been exchanged, he sat on the edge of the balcony and lit a cheroot until he heard movement on the beach path. He threw the lit stump onto the path in front of the summer house and watched the light die before he stood and stretched.

  Two men emerged from the beach moving quietly and cautiously towards the waiting figure. “Thought you’d forgotten about us,” the first figure said.

  “Now, Bernard, don’t be jealous. You know the nobs work to different times. They like listening to bloody piano recitals for half the night before going to bed. I’ve drunk more tea this evening than I’ve done in the past year!”

  Bernard chuckled. “I expect your insides will be in shock!”

  “I’ve helped myself to one of the young fool’s bottles of brandy. I need something to deaden the pain,” Joshua answered roughly. He had never been more bored than he had been during that evening. “I hope your parcel is ready to move; we won’t have much time to waste.”

  “Why, what’s wrong? I didn’t think there was any hurry? The weather isn’t going to be too good for this next week,” Bernard said, looking annoyed and concerned.

  “There’s more people arriving on Sunday, a chit among them who Charles wants to ask to marry. His cousin was at pains to tell me Charles would be sure to behave himself once he’d secured the engagement, not wanting his future family to find out if he’s been misbehaving.”

  “Can you not delay matters?” Bernard was irritated that his plans would have to be brought forward. A rough sea was no good for anyone.

  “I could, but it would cause no end of trouble for me and, to be honest, I just want to get this job done and move on. The bloody fool is so tedious I want no more to do with him,” Joshua responded sourly.

  “We could arrange an accident…,” Bernard offered.

  “There’s no advantage to that. While he’s alive we’ll always have access to the beach. If he’s dead, the sister will make sure I’m not allowed anywhere near here, or you lot come to that. I get the impression she knows about the smuggling; it’s written all over her face whenever the boy mentions brandy.”

  “She should keep her beak out of what doesn’t concern her. I’ll have to move things forward but it’s a bloody nuisance,” Bernard grumbled. “Let’s aim for Wednesday. That should be enough for me to organise everything, but I’d have preferred a calm sea. Can you keep your patience ‘til then?”

  Joshua sighed. “I’ll have to, but all I want to do is take the sister down a peg or two and smash Charles in the face the next time he grins that inane smile and calls me my friend!”

  Bernard chuckled. “You might have the opportunity after Wednesday.”

  “I hope so,” Joshua said with feeling.

  Chapter 10

  Edmund and Henry had excused themselves from morning visits, instead choosing to explore the surrounding area on horseback. They let their animals get rid of their pent up energy before falling into a gentle trot as they rode side by side.

  “So where did you disappear with the delightful Miss Holland last night? Not dallying with both cousins are you?” Henry asked.

  “I’m not dallying with either cousin,” Edmund responded churlishly. The image of Clara’s kisses still haunted his dreams but he knew he had to maintain a distance. He had gone too far, and he had to pull back or he would find himself leg-shackled, and he was not ready for that, he told himself.

  “Whatever you say.”

  “I’d asked her to show me one of her paintings; it seems we are kindred spirits when it comes to matters of art.”

  Henry let out a bark of laughter. “You are the least artistic person I know! I have the unfortunate memory of art classes whilst at school; I remember your feeble attempts.”

  Edmund smiled in appreciation of the comments. “Maybe so, but I now know the layout of the house. I also know that our young Baron is planning on offering marriage to the Beresford chit, and his wings are to be well and truly clipped once that happens. Your friend Joshua will find himself unable to dictate to the engaged Charles, much to the relief of his family. Yes, I thought that would wipe the smile off your face,” Edmund said smugly.

  “Shambles isn’t going to be happy about that.”

  “Baker isn’t going to have a lot of choice. He will have the Beresford family breathing down his neck as well as his own. The ever open purse is coming to an end for Shambles.”

  “It’s fortuitous that we are here then. Hopefully we’ll be able to work out where he’ll be going after leaving the young boy’s company.”

  “You were watching him like a hawk watching its prey last night. You need to be more circumspect or you’ll be giving the game away.”

  “I wanted to strangle the little weasel,” Henry said with feeling.

  “I wish you’d tell me what it is with him,” Edmund said quietly, watching his friend closely.

  The shadow that had passed over Henry’s face on a previous occasion when they were talking about Joshua, did so once more before he schooled his features into a more bland expression. “I just want to see him hanged or transported at the very least.”

  Edmund shook his head; he could not condemn Henry for not confiding, but Henry would feel his anger if there was anything he was keeping back that could affect Clara’s safety.

  *

  Clara stormed out of the study, her fists clenched at her sides. Curse Charles for listening to that man! She fumed as she walked away, needing to get out of the house for a while.

  Charles had informed her that he was going into Lyme for the day and evening with Mr Shambles. The ladies were not to accompany them, nor would they be inviting the ladies to join them at any of the entertainments in Lyme. As Charles had said with a wide smile; it was important that he enjoy his freedom before the delights of Miss Beresford filled his days.

  Clara had been convinced Charles would have undertaken respectable pursuits once returning home; if anyone from their locality saw Charles in some of the conditions she had seen him in over the last few months, his reputation would be tarnished. Mr Shambles had watched Clara throughout the spat between brother and sister with a wide smile on his face. He had not even the shame to hide it, which of course had only angered Clara even further.

  She stomped around her bed chamber throwing her pelisse around
her shoulders and pulling her bonnet firmly onto her head. The last two days had been hard enough, yesterday especially, as there had been no visitors or excursions, but this was too much. Charles would be facing the Beresfords when they arrived the following day; goodness knew what impression he would make.

  Clara walked downstairs thankful that she did not cross paths with Milly. She was not sure she could keep her voice down when responding to Milly’s inevitable questions; no, the sooner she left the confines of the house and calmed down the better.

  The hallway was empty as Clara reached the bottom of the stairs, which was unusual, some staff were normally in the vicinity, but she thought nothing of it until her arm was grabbed, and she was pushed roughly into the morning room.

  The door was closed behind her, and Clara was pushed hard against it. “It’s about time you learned some manners, Miss Baker,” Joshua snarled into her ear, pressing her against the door with his body.

  “Get off me, you insolent cur! One scream from me and the staff and my brother will come running, and you’ll be thrown out!” Clara snapped back, her temper completely lost.

  “Oh yes, the brother who is at pains to do anything I say. I’ve already told him that you dislike me and will do anything you can to get rid of me. Who do you think he’ll believe after your performance this morning?” Joshua snarled.

  Clara faltered; if her brother was made to choose she was not sure who he would support. A year ago she would have had no doubt, but recently, no; their relationship was not what it had been. There was the slight possibility Charles would think it a ploy to be rid of Joshua.

  “Let me go!” Clara snapped, struggling against her foe.

  Joshua smiled at her before forcing his lips on hers. He pushed his body further into Clara’s, and she struggled harder. Joshua tried to force his tongue in her mouth, but Clara kept her teeth firmly closed. This was not like the kisses she had experienced with Edmund; even when he had been passionate, there had been tenderness in the kiss. What she was experiencing now could only be described as a brutal attack.