Clara tried to scream, but any sound was swallowed by Joshua. She struggled against the man, bile rising as he continued to grind his lips into hers. Without thinking of how it could help she managed to bring her leg up hard into his groin and was finally released when Joshua groaned and doubled over.
“You bitch! You’ll pay for that!” he gasped as he fought the pain.
“You’ll be escorted off these premises and placed in the magistrate’s hands for that attack,” Clara spat, while she wiped her hand across her face.
“I’ll swing on the next gallows to your brother then!” Joshua snapped, his eyes had lost their false jollity as the real Joshua now faced Clara.
“What has Charles done? He’s been a fool in befriending you, but that’s his only crime!” Clara had a hand on the door knob; she would have left already apart from the fact that Joshua’s words had given her enough of a sense of dread to stay her movements.
“Ha! Little brother is in far deeper than you could possibly imagine,” Joshua sneered. “He’s heavily involved in a smuggling ring. Landing the goods on his own shore no less. I’m sure the magistrate would be keen to hear all about it.”
“You’re lying!” Clara shouted, but even as she uttered the words, she knew that Joshua was not.
Joshua laughed. “I have the proof, and Charles has the brandy. An examination of his cellars here and in London will provide enough evidence to see him hang.”
“Over a little bit of brandy? I think the magistrate would laugh in your face for bothering him over such a trifle!”
“Is that all he’s been smuggling?” Joshua asked with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Does he even know what’s been landing on your pretty little beach while you’ve been sleeping?”
“You’ve tricked an innocent boy. No one will believe you!”
“When evidence is given of the sales he’s made, and the deals he’s arranged he won’t be seen as quite so innocent then. And there will be evidence. I’ve heard that the King is particularly averse to anyone with a title who proves himself a traitor. It’ll be interesting to see how quickly the death penalty is given,” Joshua said, enjoying seeing Clara going paler with each sentence he uttered.
“Why are you doing this to him after all he has done for you?” Clara asked, the fight in her fading.
“His estate is in the perfect place; you’ve got to understand that it’s nothing personal,” Joshua said with a shrug.
“Nothing personal?” Clara spluttered. “He either faces the gallows if this is revealed, or he is financially and morally drained by you for sport. How can that not be personal? Have you no standards?”
Joshua snarled at Clara, and she squeezed the door knob for reassurance. “As if I would hang around with that fop forever. Give me some credit! I need him for one week more, and then I’ll disappear out of your lives for good. That should please you at least.”
“It does,” Clara said. “Why not leave now? Why do you need the extra week?”
“Because I do. Don’t ask questions that will put Charles in danger! There’s a good sister. Now if you give me a kiss and a promise that you won’t say anything, I’ll promise not to turn your brother into the magistrate.”
“I’m not kissing you!” Clara snapped.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Joshua spat.
“Someone who knows when I’m being used. I’m not going to do anything without a fight,” Clara said, lifting her chin slightly.
Joshua’s movement was swift and unexpected. The slap rang out in the room as his hand connected with Clara’s cheek. Her head hit the wood of the door because of the force of the slap, and her ears rang. Her hand moved to her cheek.
“I suggest you get out, but the next time I see you, I expect some respect. If I don’t get it, the magistrate will be called for anyway,” Joshua said with a shrug. “I’m sick of everything going your way; this next week will see me getting the treatment I deserve, or Charles will suffer because of you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes. It’s perfectly clear. I won’t say a thing,” Clara said, before twisting the door knob awkwardly in an effort to get out. She needed to be as far away from Joshua Shambles as she could be. Opening the door, she ran as if the devil himself was behind her. Once out into the hallway, she slowed down slightly, but her heart pounded in her chest as Joshua’s words rang in her ears.
*
Clara ran across the lawn. She was beyond caring who saw her, yet she needed to reach a place where she would be alone. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she ran, her body struggling with deep breaths due to running and the deep racking sobs that were reverberating through her.
She paused slightly at the top of the beach pathway, just long enough to check that the beach was deserted, before setting off down the path. Her pace was slowed when she reached the sand and pebbles, lightweight boots providing little protection against the edges and movement of the pebbles.
After what seemed an age, Clara reached the beginning of the sand and sank down onto the soft ground, casting off her bonnet in the same movement. The tide was out, but was on the turn. Small waves were lapping up to the shore, but far enough away from Clara to keep her at no risk of getting wet.
Alone, Clara gave into the fear and revulsion she had experienced in the drawing room. Words and images seemed to fly in front of her eyes. She was convinced that what had been said about smuggling was correct. Charles had boasted about his fine brandy since one of his excursions; even if he was not fully involved Clara was under no doubt that a man like Joshua Shambles would ensure that Charles was implicated. She was afraid of what the man could do to her brother; and to her shame, she was afraid of what he could do to her. He was so confident, he had the upper hand. There was no way out of this; she could not think of a solution that would protect Charles and herself, and she cried harder through fear and frustration.
Eventually, the tears stopped; she was not sure how she would gain the strength to get through the following days, but there was no doubt she would have to, for Charles’ sake. For the first time in her life, Clara was truly frightened.
Chapter 11
Edmund and Henry walked around the headland that sheltered the area of the coast known locally as Glazebrook beach. Henry wanted to have a closer look at the caves while no one else was around. As soon as they cleared the rock structure, Henry let out a curse. “Damn it! It looks like we have company.”
Edmund had already recognised the figure on the ground and, as a result, his speed had increased. “It’s Miss Baker.”
“Well, you’d best entertain her while I have a look at the cave system. I need to be finished before the tide catches up with us,” Henry instructed, already separating from his friend.
Edmund barely registered the words as he walked towards Clara. She had not noticed his approach until he was almost upon her. “Miss Baker?”
Clara nearly jumped off the sand at the words and placed her hand over her galloping heart when she realised she was safe; it was not Joshua come to continue the taunting.
Edmund immediately dropped to the ground, throwing his stovepipe hat on the sand at the expression on Clara’s face. Without thinking or invitation he gathered her into his arms. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Clara relaxed into the embrace, feeling safe within the arms that enfolded her. “I– I– I’m sorry ̶ I can’t,” and with the incoherent words, she collapsed once more into tears.
Edmund did not notice the damp ground making marks on his pristine buff coloured breeches; he failed to observe the shine of his boots being dulled with a coating of salty sand; all he could think about was that he was going to kill the person who had upset Clara.
He held her, rocking slightly, while rubbing her back in soothing motions; her head was tucked securely under his chin. He did not ask what had happened; she would speak in her own good time.
Eventually Clara sat up and attempted to move from Edmund’s arms. She did not want to, but t
he impropriety of her situation had managed to seep through her tears. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the offered handkerchief before screwing it into a ball in her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not quite able to meet his eyes. She never normally cried, especially in such an overwhelming way.
“Don’t apologise! Truly there is no need. But you do need to tell me what has happened to cause this,” Edmund said gently, using his hand to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him fully.
At the sight of the concern in Edmund’s eyes Clara nearly lost control again, but she managed to blink the tears away. She took a moment so that her voice although quiet, was steady. “I can’t tell you.”
Edmund’s insides filled with foreboding. “You need my help. I know you do; I promise to do what I can to stop this upset. Remember I made you promise you would seek me out if you ever needed help; I think today is just that day.” He stood and lifted Clara with him. “Tell me.”
Clara was still wrapped in his embrace and was tempted to tell him everything. Since the first moment she had seen him she had trusted him, but now there was Charles’ safety to think of. “Charles is in trouble, a huge amount of trouble. I can’t risk telling you, despite promising you. I’m sorry.”
Edmund’s mind raced; he had to decide what to do. If he spoke now, his cover would be blown, and Henry would probably explode as soon as he found out. Edmund sighed; at the end of the day, he did not give two hoots about Henry and his quest against Joshua Shambles, but he did care about Clara. That thought was enough to give him pause, but he pushed it to the side for the moment; ultimately her safety was more important than his secrecy.
“Is it about the smuggling?” he eventually asked.
Clara looked at him in fear. “What do you know?”
“I don’t know for sure but, at a guess, Charles is being used by Mr Shambles to land brandy and the like,” Edmund said, watching Clara carefully as she registered every word.
Clara gasped. “It’s worse than I thought! If people already know, he is in real danger of being discovered! What am I going to do?!”
“He’s not in any danger from me.”
“But if that man guesses that you know, he will speak to the magistrate this week, never mind next week!”
Edmund immediately became alert. “Is Mr Shambles blackmailing you?”
Clara could not avoid saying something; with Edmund knowing the background, she had to make him understand there was a real risk for Charles. “In a way. He’s promised that if I don’t say anything this week, he won’t tell the magistrate about Charles’ smuggling even though Charles wouldn’t have a clue how to smuggle anything!” Clara said with derision.
Edmund was amused at the way, even in difficult circumstances, Clara could not help but be realistic about her brother’s abilities. “There must be a reason they want to contain things for another week. It looks like Henry’s hunch could prove right.”
Clara stilled as Edmund’s words sank in. “Are you excise men?” she asked. She pulled away slightly and, although Edmund did not release her completely, she was not held as firmly in the circle of his arms. She felt bereft at the loss of his strength but needed to separate herself from his comfort whilst she processed what he was saying. Edmund wanted to pull her back into him, but sensed that she would fight against it, and he was not about to force her into anything.
Edmund smiled slightly. “No, we’re not.”
“What are you then?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve been honest with you; it’s only right you offer me the same courtesy,” Clara’s mind was screaming at her to walk away now, but she needed to know the truth.
“I’m trusting you that this goes no further. I work to gather information, looking at people who are working against King and country,” Edmund said quietly. He would normally have made up some silly excuse to put off any questioning, but for the first time in his life he needed to be truthful with her.
“You’re a spy?” Clara asked in disbelief.
“I suppose you could call it that,” Edmund said, looking uncomfortable.
“Why would you do that?” Clara asked incredulously. “Why would a titled gentleman lower himself to becoming a spy? Only people who were déclassé surely would consider taking on such an occupation?”
“A title does not guarantee the quality of the pedigree,” Edmund said drily.
“Don’t try to convince me the way you see yourself is anything other than the top of the tree in society!” Clara responded. “It doesn’t make sense!”
“Perhaps I was just bored.”
“Bored? That’s it?”
“Why does there need to be anything else?”
“Family loyalty? Family pride?” Clara was beginning to feel that the man standing before her was a complete stranger when she had thought him the opposite.
“I was persuaded to do a job, and initially I was entertained by it; society can be dreary as you well know.”
“Surely there must be other entertainments? I had thought it was bad enough you visiting places such as Mrs Langtree’s, but this is even worse!” Clara exclaimed forgetting her angst whilst the feelings of disbelief threatened to swamp her.
Edmund was uncomfortable with Clara’s condemnation. He was fully aware that spying was seen as a lowly profession, definitely not one that the titled classes would normally become involved with, but it had seemed like a challenge when he was first approached. Seeing it from Clara’s eyes added to the discontent which had started to niggle prior to him meeting her on that first eventful night.
“I have a job to do and, however repulsive it is to your senses, I intend doing it.”
“So you were following Charles the night we met?”
“No, at that point I didn’t know Shambles had made a friend of Charles, but then you walked into Mrs Langtree’s….”
“And gave you everything you wanted,” Clara said dully.
“Well–not exactly, but yes, you did lead me to Shambles and give me some interesting information,” Edmund had tried to keep his tone light, teasing her, but he could see that he was losing her. It was strange to see the light fade from her eyes when they had always sparkled when looking at him. If he could have detached himself from it, he could have forced some ironic amusement from his situation; the whole time she had wanted him he had been at pains to keep her aware of his views on attachments. It was only when he was losing her that he realised how important she was to him.
“And you pursued the connection with us both.”
Clara looked distraught. Her tone had been completely devoid of feeling; Edmund had to convince her it was not as she feared. “It must look like that, I agree, but that isn’t the whole story. If I hadn’t wanted to spend time with Charles and yourself I wouldn’t have.”
Clara stepped back, removing herself from the circle of his arms, which had felt so secure such a short time ago. “The kisses…,” she muttered, covering her cheeks with her hands in mortification.
“The kisses happened because I wanted them, and I think you did as well. They had nothing to do with any of this,” Edmund responded firmly. “You are confusing two completely different things.”
“Am I?” Clara asked looking at him once more. The hurt in her eyes made Edmund wince. “Am I really? Our friendship has just been a necessary aspect of your chase. I’ve been a complete fool in all respects!”
“I never promised anything,” Edmund said defensively. His words were said more to do with the fact that, for the first time in his life, he was hurting someone he cared about, and he could not deal with the remorse he was feeling, so in true Edmund style he had lashed out.
“No, you didn’t did you?” Clara said, her own anger bubbling. “I would be grateful, Lord Chertsey, if you left my brother’s land immediately. I don’t expect to see you at Glazebrook House, and I warn you, if I do see you, I will inform Mr Shambles that he is being watched.”
&nb
sp; “You wouldn’t do that; you hate the man.”
“I do. Even more after today, but my primary aim is to protect my brother, and I will do that until my dying breath. If I see you again, I will inform Mr Shambles of your reason for being here; be of no doubt that I mean what I say.”
Edmund took a step forward and touched Clara’s face gently with his fingertips. “Clara, don’t push me away. Don’t spoil what we enjoyed because of what I do.”
Clara exploded. “How dare you? What is it about men that, no matter what their rank, they think anything is possible as long as they kiss the little woman?!”
“What do you mean?” Edmund asked. If Clara had not lost her temper so utterly, she would have noticed the darkening of Edmund’s expression and the severe tone in his voice, but she was beyond noticing.
“What do I mean?” Clara snapped. “I’m sick of being treated like something that can be picked up and used. You have been no better than Mr Shambles; you just do it with more finesse!”
Edmund lunged for Clara and grabbed her upper arms. “He’s kissed you?”
Clara leaned away from Edmund, partly in annoyance and partly in fear of his rough handling of her.
“Did he?” Edmund snarled.
Clara nodded. “He tried, but he didn’t get as far as you. Don’t worry; your ego won’t be damaged; you are a far better kisser!” Clara had flushed at the words. She sounded like a doxy; she knew she did, but she was just so angry and disappointed with Edmund that she could not stop the hurt spilling from her as a gush of vitriol.
“I’ll kill him!” Edmund snarled.
“Why? What right have you to even think that?” Clara seethed.
“He had no right to touch you,” came the snarled response.
“No. And neither did you! Please let go of me.”
“You’re not safe to be left alone!”
“You’re hurting me,” Clara responded quietly.
Edmund immediately released his hold and took a step back. He had lost his hat as soon as he had sat down. He ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”
My Lord the Spy Page 10