by Cara Elliott
The champagne prickled sharply against her tongue—whether it was a good or bad portent, Caro wasn’t sure. Her pulse had unaccountably quickened, and for some reason, her nerves were on edge. Perhaps it was the masks everyone was wearing that added to the aura of devil-may-care mischief swirling through the dark shrubbery.
A branch snapped somewhere close by, startling her out of her thoughts. She looked around, surprised to find Isobel had disappeared from the circle of light under the hanging oil lanterns. Andover had gone to fetch more drinks after admonishing them not to wander off. It was odd that her friend would disregard his warning.
Unlike me, Isobel is very good about staying out of trouble.
Quelling a flutter of unease, Caro took a few steps down the darkened path and cocked an ear. The sound of voices rose from behind a cluster of nearby bushes, but she couldn’t identify the low murmurings.
She hesitated, loath to interrupt an intimate assignation.
Then came a louder exclamation—definitely Isobel. “Sir, I must ask you to cease.”
Caro quickly made her way around the leafy branches.
“Oh, here you are, Isobel,” she said brightly, hoping to defuse any unpleasantness with a minimum of embarrassment. Gentlemen were prone to drink too much during fetes like these and take liberties they would later regret. The masks, at least, would allow everyone to escape an awkward moment with their dignity intact.
Her friend whirled around, a look of gratitude glittering through her unshed tears.
The gentleman then turned as well, forcing Caro to swallow a gasp of dismay.
Thayer. The very last man on earth she wished to encounter.
Think, think!
Whatever his motive for seeking a private conversation with Alec’s sister, it could not be a good one. She had to extract Isobel, who knew nothing of his recent perfidy, and quickly.
Forcing a smile, Caro pretended not to notice that anything was amiss. “Ah, and Mr. Thayer, too.”
He inclined a mock bow.
“Isn’t it a lovely evening for pyrotechnics?” she went on. “Do you think this is the best spot for viewing the explosions? Or should we move closer to the crest of the ridge?”
“I think we’re quite nicely situated here,” replied Thayer. The dark silk masked his eyes, but his mouth quirked in a serpentine curl that sent a chill slithering down her spine.
“Yes, I daresay you’re right,” she agreed, after feigning a study of the surroundings. “This offers an excellent vantage point.” Inching a little closer to shield Isobel from his shrouded stare, she added, “Andover will be returning with our drinks. Perhaps you ought to return to our meeting spot so he doesn’t think that we’ve been abducted by cutthroat pirates who’ve sailed their rogue ship up the Avon.”
“Pirates.” Thayer let out a low laugh. “My, what a vivid imagination you have, Miss Caro. Evil villains, damsels in distress, and dashing heroes riding to their rescue—don’t tell me you read those silly novels that set all the young ladies to swooning.”
“But of course!” replied Caro lightly. “What young lady doesn’t dream of a dashing hero carrying her off into the sunset?”
“No wonder such novels are thought to corrupt the female mind,” he said, with a tinge of mockery. “The fairer sex suffers such a great disappointment when they discover that heroes are rarer than hen’s teeth in real life.”
While villains seem as plentiful as the stinging gnats that buzz around a barnyard.
“Why, Mr. Thayer, are you really so cynical?” asked Caro.
“I prefer to think of myself as pragmatic.”
“As you say, I had better go find Andover before he becomes alarmed,” said Isobel, inching back toward the pathway.
Leaves rustled, and the sound of her steps on the pathway quickly faded into the night.
“Miss Urquehart is a delicate little creature, isn’t she?” he remarked. “No wonder her brother is so protective.”
His words stirred another shiver.
“Isobel is actually much stronger than she looks,” said Caro. “She is capable of taking care of herself.”
“Indeed?” Thayer brushed a bit of leaf from his sleeve. “And what of you, Miss Caro? If I had to guess, I would say that you are the more adventurous of the two.”
Was he flirting? The idea made her skin crawl, but Caro made herself flash a coy smile. “You think so?” she murmured, echoing his teasing tone.
Boom! The first explosion of the fireworks display shook the stillness of the night, filling the sky with a burst of brilliant sparks.
“Yes.” He came closer, close enough that the cloying scent of his cologne clogged her nostrils. “Definitely.”
Boom! Boom! The flashes of red-tinted light painted his face in a devilish glow.
His hand curled around her arm and it was all she could to keep from flinching. He must not guess her true sentiments.
“I…” Caro turned her head, suddenly aware of footfalls on the gravel. A figure took shape from out of the smoke-swirled gloom—Boom!—and as a fresh flare of gunpowder light fell across the path, she saw it was Alec, wearing nothing on his face but a black scowl.
A viper. Alec felt a cold rage cloud his eyes as he spotted Thayer slide a step closer to Caro and touch her. A cold-blooded, cold-hearted snake, who took pleasure in sinking his fangs into innocent flesh, seeking to poison all that was right and good in the world.
Fury quickened his steps.
“Strathcona,” drawled Thayer, looking around from Caro’s face. “You appear to have strayed into the wrong party. This gathering is a masquerade and you are not sporting a—”
Alec seized the man’s fancy cravat, squeezing off the rest of his words. “It’s not me who has made a mistake.”
“Milord!” Caro clutched at his coat and tried to come between them. A flare of warning flashed amidst the fluttering silk of her mask. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Quite likely. Lifting Thayer off the ground, he shook him—hard enough to rattle teeth, he hoped.
“Milord!” cried Caro again, catching hold of his arm as he cocked back a fist. “No!”
Expelling a grunt, he reluctantly released his enemy. “I don’t like seeing my sister or her friend accosted.”
“It seems you’ve spent too long in the wild moors and mountains of our homeland, Strathcona, for your manners have become those of a savage.” Thayer smiled as he smoothed at the folds of linen around his throat, but there was a malevolent glint in his eyes. “I was merely having a polite conversation with your sister and Miss Caro.”
“Th-that’s right, sir,” she said softly. “Please calm yourself. There’s no cause for anger.”
Her voice held a veiled warning, and now that the first blaze of blind fury had died down, Alec belatedly cursed himself for giving too much away. Thayer had an uncanny knack for sensing a person’s weakness and then striking hard and without mercy.
“Thank you for rushing to my defense, Miss Caro, before your Highland hero turned violent.” A sneer. “But then, he has a history of that.”
Innuendo and lies. Thayer could poison with his tongue as well as his fangs. Thank God Caro knew the truth.
Her cringe was convincing enough to give him a twinge of doubt, but as she backed away toward the path, she mouthed the word “later” before looking around to Thayer.
“I am sure it would not have come to that. A mere misunderstanding, that’s all,” she said. “And now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I had better rejoin my escort, Lord Andover, and Miss Urquehart.”
“But of course,” replied Thayer. “My apologies that our conversation was cut short by such unpleasantness. I trust you will allow me to make up for it in the near future.”
“I—I shall look forward to it.” Caro dipped a quick nod and then hurried off.
“I do believe you have frightened the young lady with your temper,” said Thayer, as he watched her go.
“Yes, well…” Al
ec swung around slowly and riveting his gaze on the black swath of fabric that hid the other man’s eyes. “I can be a very frightening fellow when I so choose.”
“Ooooo.” Thayer exaggerated a mock shiver. “The thing is, McClellan,” he added in a soft whisper, “I’m not afraid of you.”
Alec bared his teeth—and not in a smile. “Oh, but you should be, Thayer. You should be.”
“Might I ask what was that all about?” inquired Andover as he offered Caro a glass of champagne. “Had I known there was a kerfuffle, I would have interceded.”
“I am not sure,” she fibbed. “It would seem there is bad blood between Lord Strathcona and Mr. Thayer. I simply was caught in the middle.”
“My brother does not like Thayer,” offered Isobel. “I don’t know the reason, but Alec is not one to hold petty grudges, so I am assuming it is over something serious. He prefers that I have nothing to do with the man, but Thayer seems insistent on being friendly.”
“The fellow ought to be gentlemanly enough to respect those wishes,” murmured Andover. “He ought not impose his company on—”
“There was no harm done,” interrupted Caro. “But you are right in suggesting that we should try to avoid fanning the flames of the feud. Isobel and I shall be more careful about finding ourselves in his company.”
“Indeed,” agreed Isobel. “And in truth I shall be happy to do so. There is something about him that makes me uncomfortable.”
“Now that I am aware of that, I will be on guard as well,” said Andover quietly.
Caro allowed an inward smile at his tone. It appeared that Andover’s concern might be more than brotherly. But regardless of the reasons, that Isobel had acquired another protector was all for the good.
“I do hope Alec won’t do anything rash.” Isobel darted a look at her. “I’ve never seen such a murderous look blaze in his eyes.”
“Lord Strathcona is not one to let his emotions get the better of him,” said Caro.
Or so she hoped. Stirring the fires with Thayer had not been a wise strategy. But perhaps Alec’s show of anger could be turned to good use in any plan to trap Thayer into revealing his perfidy.
An idea was beginning to take shape in her head…
“That may be, but I, for one, am not overly anxious to face him when he is flexing his fists in such a menacing manner,” said Andover dryly as he watched Isobel’s brother stalk toward them. “Do you ladies mind if I cower behind your skirts?”
“You should be safe enough, Andy,” replied Caro, leaving off her own plotting for the moment. “You are far too nice for anyone to want to punch you in the nose.”
“I’m not sure I would want to wager on that.” Andover discreetly edged back a step.
Not that she blamed him. Alec’s scowl was cold enough to freeze the fires of Hell.
“Bloody bastard,” he muttered through his teeth.
Andover coughed.
“Sorry. Forgive me for using such language in front of you ladies,” added Alec gruffly. “But Thayer is—”
“A bloody bastard,” murmured Caro. “Yes, yes, but…”
She paused in frustration. Anxious as she was to hear what news he had learned earlier in the day, she thought it best for the moment that Thayer not see them conversing together. But saying so might stir suspicions with Isobel and Andover.
Thankfully Alec seemed to be thinking much the same thing, for he quickly finished her sentence. “Yes, but I ought not spoil the evening by bloodying his beak.”
“It wouldn’t be wise,” she agreed.
Boom! Boom! The crowd by the refreshments burst into applause as a rainbow of sparks filled the sky.
“True.” He watched the myriad points of light fizzle and dissolve into the darkness. “So I pray that you will excuse me if I take my leave from these festivities. I find I am in no mood to make merry.”
Without a glance at her, Alec turned on his heel just as another explosion filled the air and walked off.
Caro heaved a sigh of relief—though a touch of annoyance shaded her breath. Any confidences would now have to wait until Alec could contrive to set up a private meeting.
And knowing his sentiments about sharing his thoughts with her, she might be waiting until Doomsday.
But perhaps there were other ways she could help to counter the threat against him and his sister.
Whether he wished her to do so or not.
Chapter Nineteen
Upon waking the next morning, Caro was anxious to spring into action. The only trouble was, she hadn’t quite formulated a plan. And as she knew it was dangerous to go running off half-cocked, she made herself dress unhurriedly and go down to the breakfast room.
Perhaps several cups of strong tea would stimulate some ideas.
“Mrs. Mifflin is hosting a card party this evening,” announced her mother, on looking up from sorting through the morning’s mail. “I do so love a good game of whist, though it is a pity that she serves a very watery punch instead of champagne.”
“You are supposed to be taking the medicinal waters, not punch or wine, Mama.”
“Oh, pffft! What fun is that?” exclaimed the baroness as she tore open another invitation. After a moment, a smile spread over her face. “Why, this is even better! Wrexham’s elderly aunts—you remember Lady Hortense and Lady Alois from Olivia’s wedding—are renting a manor house just outside of town for the coming month. They arrived yesterday.”
Yes, unfortunately Caro did remember them. They were very sweet, hard-of-hearing old spinsters with a great fondness for cards and fine French claret. The earl’s sister had remarked that her gracious townhouse in Mayfair felt as if it had been turned into a gaming hell for the duration of the visit.
“And I am invited to come keep them company for this first week!” The paper fluttered, mimicking the happy sigh. “Three friends have accompanied them from Yorkshire, so with me filling out the numbers, we shall make three pairs. But you—”
“Oh, you know I have no patience for card games,” said Caro quickly. “I am sure Isobel and her aunt would be happy to have me stay with them while you enjoy a respite in the country.”
“Well…” hesitated her mother.
“It will be a lovely time for you,” she assured. And allow me a good deal more freedom to go about my own affairs. “Especially as you feel the water regime is growing a little tiresome.”
“A bit of wine and continental cuisine—the aunts have a very talented French chef in their employ—would not be too bad, would it?” mused her mother. “I have shed a great deal of weight—perhaps too much. Lady Henning remarked just the other day that I was naught but skin and bones.”
Caro coughed on her sip of tea. “Er, yes, I daresay a few cream sauces and glasses of claret would be just the thing.”
“Very well. I shall accept,” said the baroness. “That is, as long as Isobel’s aunt is agreeable to the arrangement.”
Setting down her cup, Caro shot up out of her chair. “I shall go ask while you begin your packing.”
“Well, this seems to leave little doubt,” muttered Alec as he skimmed through a handful of documents.
“No doubt at all, milord,” answered his contact. The man, a clerk at the military headquarters of the Royal Horse Guards, had journeyed from London to bring several military dispatches he had surreptitiously removed from the Scottish dossier. “Thayer is your man. And it seems that Dudley is also involved in the matter.”
“My thanks, McDouglas.” Alec stuffed the incriminating documents into his pocket.
“What will you do with the papers?” said the other man. “You could thank me by putting an end to their perfidy, because clearly the English are not going to mete out any punishment.”
“I shall pass them on through the proper channels in Scotland. We may not be able to make the two of them pay for past crimes, however Thayer will no longer be a threat to the independence movement,” replied Alec. “Indeed, I would guess that he’ll soon be takin
g up permanent residence in some faraway country. He’ll have to know that his life isn’t worth a spit of whisky once this becomes known to our friends in the north.”
“Aye, that is for sure.” McDouglas made a face. “Still, someone may choose to take justice into his own hands. And though I, like you, don’t sanction violence to achieve our ends, it would not upset me overly to hear that the fork-tongued serpent has been sent to answer to his Maker.”
Alec didn’t reply. It went against all his principles to condone murder, yet in this case he couldn’t help but secretly agree.
Turning for his horse, he unwrapped the reins from around a tree branch. “You should have no trouble walking back to town in time to catch the Royal Mail coach back to London.” Setting his boot in the stirrup, he added, “I trust you’ll suffer no consequences for this.”
McDouglas gave a tight smile. “Nay. My copying skills are very finely honed. Even if anyone thinks to look carefully at the replacements I put in the file, they won’t be able to tell that they are forgeries.”
“Godspeed then.”
“And you, milord.” With that, his contact slipped away into the shadows of the trees.
Alec swung up into the saddle. A long ride loomed ahead. It would be dark by the time he arrived back in Bath. Too late to pay a visit to Caro, so it would have to wait until morning.
His mouth curled in a wry smile. At the moment, she was likely madder than a wet hen at his absence, thinking he was deliberately avoiding her. But the meeting with McDouglas had been a last-minute arrangement, and the discovery of military dispatches that detailed Thayer’s misdeeds was too important to pass up.
Now there was no need to plan an elaborate—and perhaps dangerous—trap to ensnare the miscreant. With such tangible proof in hand, he could unmask Thayer as a traitor and make sure that his former friend would never dare show his face in Scotland again.