Clara smiled a little. “Apart from a dull headache, I’m perfectly fine; I’m just relieved that we survived unscathed.”
They were disturbed by raised voices downstairs. Looking at each other questioningly, Clara sighed. “What now?” before moving to the door.
Clara made her way quickly down the stairs, realising at the last minute that she had not tied her hair up, and it draped across her shoulders. The hallway was filled with Mr and Mrs Beresford and Charles. There seemed to be a dispute going on.
“Is there anything amiss?” Clara asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs.
“I’ll say there is!” Charles exclaimed. “Mr Beresford has decided that I’m not the sort of person he wishes his daughter to marry!”
“Really? Why ever not?” Clara exclaimed, looking between the pair.
“I refuse to have my daughter put in danger, whether she loses a title or not!” Mr Beresford responded hotly.
“Mr Beresford, there would be no danger to Miss Beresford if she should marry my brother,” Clara said reasonably.
“You can say that after the goings on of last night? You are as deluded as he is! I heard the gunshots; I saw the explosion. I’m not a fool; this is obviously a smugglers paradise, and I’m not having my girl involved!”
Charles sat down heavily on the stairs. “I can’t lose her; I just can’t,” he moaned pitifully.
Clara decided they had performed enough for the servants who might be hovering close by. “Mr Beresford, I would be grateful if I could have a word with you in the morning room; I don’t think we’ll achieve anything standing about in such a fashion.”
“We are leaving.”
“Please, Mr Beresford. I won’t keep you above a few minutes.” Clara walked towards the door, opened it and entered. It was a relief when Mr and Mrs Beresford followed. “Charles, please give us a moment,” she instructed before leaving Milly to deal with her distraught brother.
“You’re wasting your breath,” Mr Beresford blustered.
“I can understand your concern, but I want to reassure you that Charles is sincere in his adoration of Miss Beresford.”
“Of course he’s smitten; she’s a pretty little thing, but I’m not having her put in danger.”
“I completely agree with your sentiments, but I can assure you that what happened last night has never happened before, nor will it happen again,” Clara said a little more confidently than she felt.
They were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Milly appeared and gave Clara an apologetic look. “Lord Chertsey is here, my dear. Charles has told him what is going on, and he is insisting that he be allowed to speak to Mr Beresford.”
Clara flushed. She did not wish to see Edmund whilst she was still in such a state of undress, her hair being loose about her shoulders was most inappropriate. The situation had required her attendance quickly rather than waiting until she was appropriately dressed; but if he thought he could help Charles’ cause, she would take the risk. “Please allow him entry,” she said and stood to greet the caller.
Edmund walked into the drawing room and faltered. He had expected to see a pale, withdrawn Clara as a result of her exertions the night before, but he saw a woman, slightly flushed with hair framing her face that had obviously not been brushed. The thought of seeing her dishevelled in his bed flashed in front of his eyes, but he tried to push the image away. Yes, he had come to see how she was, but in a rare moment of compassion, he was intent on pleading Charles’ case.
Bows and curtseys were made and Edmund seated himself in a position where he could look at Clara without making it obvious that he was watching her. He started to speak, “Mr Beresford, I can only imagine what you thought about the events of last night.”
“I’m struggling to reconcile the events with the fact that, if married, my daughter would be forced to live here, My Lord,” Mr Beresford said. His tone was still defensive, but the appearance of Edmund had seemed to calm him a little.
“I can only imagine your level of concern. It is an unfortunate consequence of coastal estates that sometimes they are targeted by smugglers, but the incident last night was unique and, in fact, young Baker showed just how capable he was of protecting his land and his family.”
“Well, that may be the case, but…”
“I cannot guarantee that the beach will never be used again; none of us can until this war with the French is over, but what happened was an unusual situation and, if I were a smuggler, I would ensure that I avoided Glazebrook beach like the plague!” Edmund said, his tone pleasant and charming.
“But you aren’t a smuggler,” Mr Beresford persisted. “You don’t know what goes through their minds.”
Edmund flashed a look at Clara. She met his gaze as if wondering whether or not he would reveal what part he had in the escapade. He took a breath, “I don’t know what drives them, but many were captured last night and will be hanged for their involvement. That will send enough of a message out to those thinking of becoming involved with smuggling and those considering this part of the coastline; no one wishes to risk hanging. Other areas will be used, rather than risking capture on this beach.”
“I’m not happy, My Lord. Not happy about the whole sorry episode.”
Mrs Beresford, who had been silent throughout the exchange reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand. “Let them be, Mr Beresford. You know Dorothea wants nothing else but to be married to Charles. We can’t let our fears stand in the way of their happiness.”
Mr Beresford looked at his wife and sighed. “I know; I just don’t want her to be hurt.”
“Charles won’t let her be hurt; he adores her,” Clara said quietly.
“I’ll agree to the wedding, but we are still leaving this morning. I want the wedding to happen in London. I, at least, want to be as far away from this coastline as possible.”
The two ladies smiled at each other, both relieved for the sake of their relations. The group stood, and the Beresfords left the room to impart their news.
Clara turned to Edmund. “Thank you for your assistance last night. I remember enough to know you took charge and ensured we came home safely.” She recalled clearly the memory of being held in his arms, and the recollection made her flush.
“You were safe by the time I reached you. I’m sorry any of it had to happen at all.”
“Did you get who you wanted?”
“I’ve no idea. I withdrew my support once you had been returned home. Being a spy does not suit me after all,” Edmund responded, his tone light, but the expression in his eyes was serious.
“Really?” Clara was surprised at the confession. “Why?”
“Something changed recently.”
“Oh. How did Lord Grinstead take the news?”
Edmund smiled. “He’s not best pleased, but as we’ve both been unceremoniously cast off Brandon’s land for a second time, Grinstead has returned to London, along with the survivors of last night.”
“And Mr Shambles?” Clara asked.
“I’m afraid he evaded us, another reason why Grinstead has returned to the capital.”
“Is Charles safe?” Clara asked immediately concerned about her brother.
“He would be a fool if he approached your brother. Shambles has shown himself to be intelligent and a professional at evading capture; he won’t return to the same area; he knows as well as we do that people will be more alert. Your brother won’t fall for his tricks a second time; Shambles is more likely to move onto some other unsuspecting young man.”
“It’s wrong that he is still wandering around unchallenged.”
“Grinstead won’t stop until he’s caught,” Edmund reassured her. “Miss Baker, I need to speak to you before I leave.”
“What have we to say to each other, My Lord?” Clara asked.
“I would hope a lot,” Edmund responded.
“Do you mean what you say when you say you aren’t going to continue in this profession you are tangled in?” C
lara asked. Every fibre in her body wanted to have Edmund’s arms around her in an embrace, but she could not face the danger she had been a witness to last night. She could not share his life if she were constantly in a state of worry.
Edmund looked at her before answering; he could lie, but now was the time to be honest. “I told Grinstead last night that I was not going to do any more of this nonsense.”
“And what was his response?”
“He said it wasn’t going to be that easy. That shouldn’t affect what’s happened between you and I though; I know you are attracted to me just as I am to you; don’t let the work I do come between us,” Edmund responded. He had never opened his heart and begged before, but he could not stop the words once they had started.
“I am drawn to you,” Clara replied truthfully. “But last night terrified me. There was no doubt those men would have left us to die; they had no conscience about who they were hurting, no boundaries they would not overstep. I could not live with that hanging over the person I cared for.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“Come back when you are certain that part of your life is over.”
Edmund’s eyes flashed with anger. “There’s no compromise? No let’s see how things go? You are prepared to walk away from me without so much as a look backwards?”
“No. There can’t be,” Clara said simply. She felt inside as if her heart were breaking, but better to lose him now than have his body returned to her lifeless after some attack had gone wrong.
“I thought you went after what you wanted. You were determined to keep your brother safe and put yourself at risk for that. Do I not warrant the same treatment?” Edmund snapped.
“It would be different with you,” Clara responded without explanation. How could she explain that it would tear her in two if she lost him after allowing herself to fall in love with him completely? No, last night had convinced her of one thing: she was not as strong as she had presumed.
“Well, there’s nothing else to be said, is there?” Edmund said with derision. He stood and moved to the door. “I would say it’s been a pleasure, but actually it’s been nothing but trouble.”
The cutting words were left hanging as Edmund left the room, the door banging closed behind him. Clara sank onto the nearest chair and burst into tears. Doing the right thing did not make the impact on her any easier. She cursed her weakness, but whether it was the after effects of the laudanum or the actual events, she could not stop the tears flowing. She had turned into a weak fool!
Milly found her cousin a little later, still in floods of tears. “Clara! What on earth is amiss?”
“He’s gone, and he thinks I don’t care about him,” Clara wailed.
“Tell me everything,” Milly soothed. She listened as Clara told the sorry tale, stroking Clara’s back as she sobbed. “Do you think you might have been a little hasty? He has always seemed smitten with you. Perhaps he would be more inclined to give up his lifestyle if he had some guarantees from you? Lord Grinstead can’t force him to continue the work if he doesn’t want to do it.”
Clara groaned, her tears finally drying. “Trust me to be attracted to a spy who is also a rake! They wanted him because he was able to access all the places any decent human being wouldn’t be seen in!”
“Don’t forget you were looking for Charles in one of those locations,” Milly said gently.
“What are you saying? That he is as good as Charles?”
“No. I’m saying that when a man meets someone who he falls in love with, he can change for her. Neither of us expects that Charles will ever again get into any of the scrapes he’s been involved with these last few months, do we?”
“Of course not! He is smitten with Miss Beresford,” Clara exclaimed hotly.
“And I have a feeling that Lord Chertsey is smitten with Miss Baker,” Milly said gently.
“I sent him away, and he was angry.”
“You’ll see him in London. Charles is insisting that we follow the Beresfords back. He is terrified that Mr Beresford will have a change of heart on the way there.”
“Oh, dear! Poor Charles,” Clara said, feeling happier at the thought that she would be able to see Lord Chertsey again.
It did not make sense; she did not approve of his lifestyle or his profession, but she needed to right things between them somehow. To have separated on such terms did not rest easy with her and, after her conversation with Milly, it had become important for Edmund to realise just how she felt about him.
Chapter 21
Clara felt strange returning to London; the season was approaching its close, but society was not yet planning their removal to other towns and country. Entertainments were still in full swing; debutantes still hoping for that great match.
It all felt a little false to Clara; she could not forget the events of that evening on the beach or the feel of a gun being pressed into her neck. It was as if she had aged along with Charles. He was still his charming self, but he was slightly more serious, slightly more appreciative of everything around him. Clara was convinced that no one would ever fool him again.
Thankfully, the Beresfords had not changed their minds; the engagement had been announced, and wedding preparations were in full swing.
Clara attended every event in the hope she would see Lord Chertsey or even Lord Grinstead, but both men were absent from every ball, every party, every theatre show she attended. She knew Milly was as puzzled as she as to how to contact him, but neither of them seemed to be able to think of an acceptable plan.
One morning, after returning from a walk in Hyde Park Clara was feeling particularly despondent. Apart from knocking on Lord Chertsey’s door, she had no idea of how to contact him, and that plan was so flawed it could not be seriously considered.
Charles joined Clara in the morning room. “You’ve been out early, sister. I don’t know how you are able to rise so bright eyed,” Charles said cheerfully, helping himself to tea and biscuits.
“I’ve always been able to, but just recently I find I’m waking even earlier,” Clara admitted.
“Oh? You’re not ailing for anything are you? I want you in fine spirits at the wedding!”
“I’m not ailing,” Clara said with a smile. She decided to question Charles a little; after all he had access to all the gentlemen’s clubs. “Have you seen anything of Lord Chertsey or Lord Grinstead since our return?”
“I’ve seen Lord Grinstead, but I was beginning to wonder about Lord Chertsey myself. He seems to have disappeared.”
Clara felt a moment of panic at the thought of Edmund being ill, but managed to contain her worry. “I enjoyed the dances I had with them; it’s a pity we haven’t seen them since our return.”
“It is really,” Charles admitted. “Lord Chertsey was very supportive of all that business.” Charles could not refer to the night without a shudder. “I had hoped to see him more; I know he’s a lot older than me and more worldly, but I thought he would make a good friend.”
“Perhaps he didn’t return to London after all,” Clara mused.
*
Having raised the question about their missing acquaintances, Charles was pleased to see Lord Grinstead at White’s later in the afternoon. He approached him with a smile. “My Lord! It is very good to see you! Would it be an imposition if I joined you?”
Henry nodded in agreement. “Not at all, unless your tastes have gone off brandy after your little adventure.”
“The adventure, as you call it, will haunt my dreams for years, I think, but I’m ashamed to say I don’t think there would be anything that would put me off brandy! In fact, that’s the worst thing about all this; I’ve no steady supply anymore.”
Henry shook his head but lowered his voice. “Should you be mentioning that to me, bearing in mind you know my profession?”
Charles flushed but laughed. “Well, no, but you did seem to enjoy it when you drank it, My Lord!”
“Impudent pup!” Henry said.
&
nbsp; “What happened to the men you captured?” Charles asked, becoming serious. “I’m supposing it was more serious than just landing a few barrels of brandy?”
“It was. It seems there was a plan to try and attack the King, but a few of the French told us everything, so the danger is gone for now,” Henry said.
“Will they hang?”
“Some already have,” Henry admitted. “The ones who gave us the information will be transported. They saved their lives by sharing their information, but we’re going to make sure they can’t do any more damage.”
“Is that the reason yourself and Lord Chertsey have been absent from society?”
“For me yes, but as for Chertsey, goodness knows what’s got into him; well, actually I do know. The fool!” Henry responded with derision.
“What is it?” Charles asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Can you not guess? He’s smitten with that sister of yours and, when he was trying to declare himself, she sent him on his way. I don’t know who’s the more foolish, him for asking, or her for refusing when she’s a good way to being on the shelf!” Henry scoffed.
Charles was shocked at the revelation; he had absolutely no suspicion that his sister was the object of affection of the Earl of Chertsey. He also knew that, although Clara was technically on the shelf, it was not polite to point it out. “That’s my sister you’re referring too, My Lord,” Charles said quietly.
Henry laughed. “Yes, and hasn’t she caused me some blasted problems. I’ve got one of the best operatives I’ve ever had, and he’s worse than useless at the moment!”
“Is he not in London?”
“Oh, he’s here. Refuses to see me and, by all accounts, frequenting every den of iniquity this side of the Thames. A pity he’s drunk most of the time; he could be making himself useful by gathering information.”
“I see,” Charles said before changing the subject. He had a lot to think about but not with Lord Grinstead at his side.
*
The following day, after Clara returned from morning visits, Charles was waiting for her. “Have you a moment, Clara? I’ve ordered refreshments in my study and would be grateful if you could spare me a few minutes.”
My Lord the Spy Page 17