A Fine Caprice - A Regency Romance (28 page)

‘I
must
have a bath soon,’ she muttered in disgust. ‘Even if it is in one of the horse troughs!’

It was a pity to sully the sheets with her rather odorous person but nothing was going to keep her out of bed, not when exha
ustion pulled at her so remorselessly
. Sleep was what she needed so that she could
have a clear head in the morning
. If she could only get some rest then perhaps she could help offer some solutions as to who migh
t have killed Priss, where the
French spy might be (if
there was a French spy – that was yet to be determined
) and what Mr. Ravener and the Grand Duchess Maria were really up to at Abbey Cross. It was a busy schedule but she was looking forward to discussing it with Lord Merridew
, along with asking him about Sir Darryl Hughenden
.
Clearly something was going on
there
.

She recalled his
lordship’s
offer to let her sleep in his room and flushed all over again, body growing hot with a mixture of excitement and alarm. There was no need for either, she knew for the offer had been made out of kindness. Just the same, sleeping in the same room as the man…

‘Stop it, Caprice Lambert! Just… stop it.’

But she knew that she was going to find it very difficult to stop. Her interests had been engaged by the delightfully different gentleman and there was nothing she could do about it
.

A day or t
wo more, when she would help his lordship with
his current predicament in any way that she could.
But no more than a day or two.
Anything more than that could well prove to be more than her foolish heart could bear.

Chapter Eleven

With all of the excitement of the night s
he thought she would oversleep but it was not long past dawn when Caprice opened her eyes again. She lay for some moments, enjoying the warmth of the bed and tried not to think about how much she was looking forward to seeing Lord Merridew. She needed to be realistic about the man. While the circumstances
dictated that they spend
a great deal of time together, it only served to deepen her regard for him and did nothing to
promote her own interests. Unless she could think of a way to meet him after she had transformed back into a female, then any time spent in his company was merely making trouble for
herself
when their time together came to an end.

As it must.
And soon, too, for she sensed that whatever was taking place was drawing to a climax of sorts.

She sighed and threw the blankets aside, wincing a li
ttle at the
sour smell she was exuding. Sitting on the side of the bed, she contemplated how to get the one thing she probably wanted more than time with Lord Merridew; a bath. It didn’t feel nearly as cold as it had the previous morning. While she wouldn’t exactly d
escribe the temperature as temperate
, it
wasn’t too bad
and she was
desperate
to feel clean once again
.

Did she dare?

Pulling on her clo
thing and carrying her boots lest she make too much
noise, she hurried from the attic, making her way downstairs
– although she paused in the hallway containing the household linen to snatch a bath sheet – then continued on, heading for
the back door. Mrs. Siddons was clearly up for she could hear her in the kitchen when she put her head down the corridor
and there came the delightful smell of baking bread
.
Not the best way to go, then. Much as she liked the woman, she didn’t relish any questions about where she might be going. Instead,
Caprice pulled her boots on and let herself out the front door as silently as possible. The morning smelt fresh and cool, the scent of the sea mingled with those of the garden
. She
made her way to the back of the house
, hurrying through the herb beds and beyond the rose arbour that somebody had p
lanted long ago. There was a smal
l
lake
out
the back
, the one that his lordship had mentioned the previous day. When she reached it she saw that, l
ike everything else it had not been maintained and was filled with reeds and lilies. Ducks paddled on the water, which looked deliciously tempting, the smooth face of the water broken by insects and tadpoles, in among the reeds.

Caprice hesitated, looking around her. The lake was invisible from the house, lying as it did behind overgrown hedges and a thin copse of trees. There wasn’t a soul about.
It was the perfect opportunity to wash off the accumulated filth of the past five days.
Too perfect to miss.

Releasing a breath, she hurriedly stripped off her outer clothing; boots, breeches, ja
cket and waistcoat. She slipped
off her stockings as well as they were wool and would take forever to try if t
hey became wet. Then, barefoot
, she took her courage in
hand and waded into the water. Unsurprisingly, i
t was freezing! Mud squelched between her toes, her skin was immediately covered in a rash of goosebumps but she did not stop, moving forward until she was up to her chest. Then, taking a deep breath, she plunged in, diving beneath the surface of the water. Breaking the surface with a gasp, she struck out, swimming out until there was no mud underfoot any more. Swimming until she warmed her chilled body with the exertion and she was completely, utterly clean…

Cass had not slept nearly as well as he should have,
a circumstance he found singularly irritating
as he could usually sleep under any circumstances
. He didn’t get to be
d until three and when he finally managed it he lay awake, tussling
with the peculiar events that were occurring
in his house
.
Under his nose.
And, it seemed, entirely out of his control.

His uncle’s valet dead
;
murdered.

The arrival of Darryl Hughenden, the man that Fenshaw had suggested might be behind the sudden burst of traitorous French traffic.
His presence in the area certainly seemed to support the idea that he was in collaboration with Abel. It seemed possible that he might also be aware of the Grand Duchess’ activities.

For
of course,
there was
continuing,
irksome business of Hadley and the Grand Duchess. Had they found the person they were looking for on their nocturnal soiree?
He had no way of telling.
It was all extremely vexing.

It would, he realized, but handy to have Jem Morris to bounce his thoughts off. The lad was
insightful
,
for all that he could have a wickedly sharp tongue
.
His dislike for Maria was almost amusing for he was as vitriolic as any female about the woman. Clearly Jem was far from impressed with the lady’s charms. Still, he had a habit of providing useful observations. For a brief time Cass
considered going and waking
him but the boy needed his rest
. He’d been fall
ing asleep in that chair
, unable to stay awake. The morning would be soon enough.

After tossing and turning, he
finally found sleep
nearly an
hour
after climbing into bed
but it was restless and troubled by dreams. He awoke feeling an unaccustomed sense of exasperation
, both at himself and his situation
. Farris
, his uncle’s man of business would be arriving today to discuss Abel Merridew’s last disposition. Technically, after that was done, Cass and his guests could leave Abbey Cross and yet he knew he
wasn’t going an
ywhere. Lord Barrymore might be content to put
Priss’ death down to the work of smugglers but it rather begged the question of somebody gaining access to his cella
r and doing the deed. If he let matters stand
as they were
he would be giving whoever was responsible leave to make free with his family’s property whenever he wished and Cass was far too stubborn to do anything of the kind.

He needed more information. Discovering why Hughenden was in the area was an excellent place to start.

Rising, he washed and dressed himself and, if his neckcloth were not as precise as his man Gregson would have accomplished, his handiwork would serve well enough. He would wake Jem and they could discuss the events of the night over breakfast. When he went to the boy’s room, however, he found the bed had been slept in but was now deserted. Clearly the boy
had woken early and had undoubtedly
gone in search of food.

Cass went down stairs, strolling into the kitchen where Mrs. Siddons was busy creating the very thing that he had missed the most; a hot breakfast. There was nobody at the kitchen table.

‘Good morning, Mrs. Siddons.’

The woman paused and stared at him uncertainly. She had met him the previous day and knew he was her new employer but she wasn’t used to the gentry encroaching into the kitchen. She dropped a curtsey. ‘Your lordship!’

‘Have you seen my lad around the place? Young Jem?’

‘No, your lordship.
I have not.’

‘Hmm. Thank you, Mrs. Siddons,’ he paused, eyeing the pans on the stove. ‘Are we having kidneys?’

‘Aye, your lordship.
We are indeed.’

‘Excellent!’

He left her to it and began to methodically make his way through the ground floor, excluding the cellar. He was fairly sure Jem would
not
be returning there any time soon and certainly not by himself. When he did not find him in the house he stepped outside. It was rather a beautiful morning, the sun not long up. Cass went first to the stable, thinking that Jem would be visiting with his horse but he wasn’t with Ulysses. The horse snickered a greeting at the sight of him.

‘I know. You want your breakfast. If I find the brat I’ll make sure you get it before he gets his.’

It took some time before he made his way down to the small lake at the bottom of the garden. At first he did not think there was anybody there for the place had a serene, untroubled air. But then he caught sight of a slim figure submerged up to the waist in water not far from the bank. Master Morris at last. Clearly the boy had decided take bathing into his own hands. Cass took a few steps forward, opening his mouth to call a greeting but then stopped abruptly. He had very good eyesight. Indeed, it had always been particularly acute, which was why he could see that there was something in Jem Morris’ physiology that did not make sense. Suddenly stealthy, Cass moved slowly forward, careful not to step on some stray stick and give the game away.

Moving behind a tree, he studied the slim figure in the water and the air slowly hissed between his teeth. A slight figure, it was true and clad in a shirt that was plastered to the wet body inside it. A wet body that possessed a pair of small, but singularly well rounded breasts. Half turned away as he… no, damn it, s
he
!...
was, Cass
could see those breasts very clearly. The soft curve, the small, hard nipples, contracted into tight little buds with the cold. Free
d
of the messy queue
that had been bunched
at the nape of the neck, he could now see the thick dark hair reached halfway down the girl’s back. And free of the grim
e
that
had liberally decorated her, Cass
could now see what he must surely have been blind to before. That soft curve of the face really was ridiculously feminine.
Not the face of a young man, not by any means but that of a young woman.
A beautiful young woman, unless he was
very
much mistaken.
As a man who had always had an appreciation of the female of the species, he could not believe that he had allowed his eyes to be so deceived.

Cass dragged his gaze
away and
turned to look back towards the house
, trying
to think. He was quite ridiculously disconcerted by the discovery that the smart young lad he had taken such a shine to was actually a female. More than that, he found he was angry f
or, not only had she sol
d him the most ridiculous faradiddle, but she had
taken advantage of him. He wasn’t sure
how
she had done so,
exactly,
but he felt distinctly outraged by the
depth
of her deception. Bastard son indeed!

Reluctantly, he turned to look
at that slender figure
again, knowing that he should not but unable to resist. She was running her hands over her face, wiping the water from it, an innately graceful gesture.
My God, how could I ever have thought her a boy
? But he had thought it because she had been cloaked in grimy boy’s clothing and had shown not the slightest hesitation in presenting herself as such. What sort of female could be so bold faced
, so… so blatant
?