Authors: Margaret Bennett
“
The killer?”
“Long gone, ran off through the woods in the direction of the mai
n road. Hawker’s men are underfoot everywhere, too, so they’re bound to come across him roaming about. That’s if he ain’t hightailed it altogether.”
“Damn, he’s got to be in the one we’re after. If Captain Hawker gets wind of Guyot’s murder, he might move in before Pearson contact
s him.”
“Can’t make sense out of why the émigré didn’t deal with Pearson himself, Gov?” Raikes scratched the back of his head in a thoughtful manner, then spat on the ground. “Instead, he gets himself kilt by one of his own kind.”
“On the surface, it doesn’t appear to make sense unless the French were suspicious of Guyot all along. There’s always the possibility he tried to double cross them. Lately, he’d been snooping around and dogging Pearson’s every move.”
Both were quiet for a moment, digesting this unexpected catastrophe before Camden continued. “It’s rumored Guyot barely escaped Madame Guillotine, f
orcing him to leave France with only his hide. Could be he had visions of evening the score by fattening his pockets.”
“Seeing as how t
hings been going, I ain’t easy about this.”
“Me neither, but we’ve got to give Pearson a chance to swap those
diplomatic papers tonight. We’ve no choice but to play it out. There’ll be plenty of questions coming from the Marquis and Lord Howard once those two notice the Frenchman’s not at the ball. They may decide to bring in the agent on murder charges, which would tip off Pearson that we’re on to him. Once he gets wind of this, that cur will be nervous as a fox with a pack of hounds on its tail.”
“Might be best if you was to act like Pearson
’s got the plague, Gov. It won’t do having him quiz you. Not that you’d tip your hand, but he’s just likely to sniff a red herring and turn tail and run, bloody coward that he is.”
The forest sounds were suddenly drowned out as the orchestra struck up their instruments with the chords of the opening dance. Camden glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the Court. A soft yellow glow
came from the great house, where every candle, lantern and wick were lit, permeating the dark edges of the woods.
“I’d better get back. If I’m in their sights, maybe they won’t raise an alarm over Guyot missing,” Camden said. Then before parting to stroll nonchalantly out from under the cover of the trees, he added, “Keep a close eye on the cabin, Raikes. Our man’s bound to show eventually.”
~~~~~
Three enormous lead crystal chandeliers h
ung from the cavernous ballroom ceiling. Their hundreds of tapers reflected off a sea of jewels worn by the elegantly dressed men and women and again in the eight enormous guilt-framed mirrors affixed to the gold damask walls. The dance floor was crowded with couples, though a goodly number of on-lookers lined the walls. By London standards it would hardly constitute a crush, but for a backwater affair during the height of the Season, the Marchioness of Clairmont had assembled quite an impressive gathering of the
haunt ton
.
A Scottish reel was in full s
wing by the time Camden entered the ballroom. He figured it would be easy enough to lose himself among the guests mulling about for a few hours. Standing behind several gentlemen, he unobtrusively flexed his left shoulder to ease some of the pain. By contrast, when he contemplated his other problems, the soreness in his arm seemed trivial.
He’d seriously blundered antagonizing Judith, making her a liability he could ill afford.
She should have seen it coming as he’d not slept with her in weeks. Still, it would have better served his purpose to wait until after tonight to break off the affair. He knew a spurned woman was as dangerous as a wounded animal in the wild and could only hope she’d not seek her revenge by giving the game away to Pearson.
To further complicate matters, Guyot’s disappearance might make the dandy suspicious of a plot. There was also the possibility that Clairmont or Lord Howard would call in Captain Hawker’s troops, should either learn of the Frenchman’s murder. Looking around the glittering ballroom, he figured his best chance was to stay clear of the entire bunch for a few hours. Yet, it was imperative that he be visible to some degree in order to waylay any suspicion.
What he needed, he decided, was an ally.
*** Chapter 17 ***
Chloe was sitting with a distinguished gray-haired colonel, dressed in his
red regimental uniform that had long since seen better days. The elderly soldier had impulsively asked her to dance a gavotte, then regretfully was forced to confess his spindly limbs were not strong enough to support such exertion. In lieu of dancing, he proposed to procure each of them a glass of punch, and they could retire to a quiet corner and talk.
The old gentleman had supplied most of the discussion, trumpeting a cleaned up version of his soldiering exploits in
Africa. With half an ear, Chloe listened to his self-flattering tales with her eyes trained on the dancers. By chance, she spotted Camden standing on the sidelines where, except for his height, he was almost hidden by two other gentlemen. Despite the talk she’d had with herself earlier, her heart lurched and her pulse raced as she watched him. His dark eyes were scrutinizing the crowd, and upon espying her, he moved out from behind the human wall and started around the room until he stood looming over her.
“Dance with me,” he commanded, reaching his hand out to her. His eyes still had
a pinched look about them, and under the bronzed skin tone, his coloring appeared ashen.
Since the gavotte was ending, she graciously thanked her elderly partner for an enjoyable interlude and gave her hand to Camden. They walked along the edge of the dance floor until he suddenly stopped. She waited patiently by him as his eyes took in the assembled company. A waltz was struck up by the band of musicians occupying a small gallery overlooking one end of the room, and he led her out onto the floor.
Releasing her hand, he put his arm around her waist and drew her close. When his other hand reached out to clasp hers, she barely caught his grimace of pain yet, under careful examination of his face, saw only the indifferent mask he habitually wore. He was a master at hiding his feeling
s.
Acknowledging this, she became angry with herself for wordlessly complying with his highhanded order to dance. He was simply toying
with her. She was simply another female conquest to him, but to her, the mere touch of his hand was enough to turn her limbs to jelly. So thinking, her eyes gravitated to their locked hands, and she had to stifle a cry. Bright red blood smeared her white glove.
Desperately she tri
ed catching his eyes, but they were riveted on the ballroom door.
She had to
grab his attention, so she said, “My lord, I do not care to dance.” But his gaze remained glued to the doorway.
“I do, madam,” he replied tightly.
“Oliver,” she said in a soft pleading voice and was rewarded with his midnight blue eyes focusing at last on her own. Deliberately cutting her eyes to their clasped hands, she said, “Guide us over to the side door.”
His eyes followed hers
to their bloody palms, then returned to hers. But only for a moment, for once again his attention was drawn to the entrance way where a very agitated Leslie Pearson stood with his eyes darting wildly about the room. He was shortly joined by the Marquis and Lord Howard, and the three together began a search of the ballroom.
As
Camden adroitly whirled Chloe around several couples and slipped behind other dancers, they were no longer in the line of vision of the three gentlemen. But now, besides the disturbing fact that his wound had reopened, Chloe knew something was drastically wrong.
“No one would think anything was amiss if a notorious rake were to keep a rendezvous with a lady in the garden,” she hinted. She gave him a shy smile before her expression turned to one of concern. “Please, my lord, your wound needs tending. And for whatever reason you deem it necessary to escape those gentlemen, you can trust me to not give you away.”
“I know.” His dark blue eyes were hard, calculating.
“Then let me help. I know you are involved in some conspiracy. Please, for your own sake?”
He shook his head, whether in disbelief or denial she could not tell. Then he gave low laugh without humor and tightened his hold on her. She should have objected such scandalous behavior but kept silent. She marveled at the intimacy in the feel of his hard muscles stretched against the length of her own body. Deftly, he waltzed them around the other circling couples over to the side of the room. There, a set of doors opened onto the stone terrace that ran along the back of the house.
With his arm linked through hers, he walked her over to the stone steps that led down to the garden. The gravel paths were softly lit by lanterns hanging high in the trees and placed at intervals along the tall yews. Taking her down a path that led away from the house, Camden’s pace never slowed until they reached the darker recesses of the garden.
Coming upon a stone bench half hidden by a cluster of rhododendrons, he let her go and sat down heavily on the cold slab. Withdrawing a white linen square from his pocket, he wadded it up and stuffed it inside the left shoulder of his jacket, then wearily closed his eyes. Chloe gingerly perched herself on the edge of the bench, feeling useless for not knowing what to do.
Laying one hand on his arm, she half whispered,
“Please, I want to help you.”
He shook his head, and when she would have removed her hand, he covered it with his own, giving her a comforting squeeze. After a few minutes, he seemed to have collected himself and opened his eyes, curiously observing her before sitting up straighter.
“I do believe you have nerves of steel, Chloe. You reacted well in there when any other woman would have screamed.” He laughed humorlessly. “Some would have fallen in a dead faint at the sight of blood smeared all over one of their evening gloves.”
“I very well might have done one of those things if I had been unaware of your injury.”
He was about to answer when noises coming from the house alerted them to people milling about the gardens. They both watched as the Marquis and Lord Howard came down the terrace steps, searching the area, methodically advancing in their directions. Chloe wasn’t sure but suspected they sought Camden.
“Kiss me, Chloe,” he suddenly demanded. He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet as he stood.
With his back turned to the house, he used his body to shield her from the prying eyes of the two gentlemen.
Though he held her tight, she could tell his mind was far from the task since his kisses lacked the ardor
he’d displayed on previous occasions. But this did not deter him from using the opportunity to take liberties with his good hand. And while her own mental involvement was hardly any better than his, irrationally, she was disappointed.
Lord Howard was the first to spot them. He called out to Camden, who released Chloe and turned
toward the advancing gentlemen. He pushed her gently behind his large frame, concealing her, but kept his hand firmly gripping her upper arm.
“Ah, gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I find I’m unable to spare a moment just now,” he greeted them sarcastically.
Chloe could see the two noblemen staring intently at her and made a move to drop farther back in the shadows. Camden, however, held her fast. She could only hope it was dark enough that neither one could identify her.
Adding to her mortification,
Camden said with a meaningful leer, “I’ve some unfinished business to tend to, you understand.”
“A word is all we desire, Camden,” was Clairmont’s imperious retort. “
And as soon as possible.”
“Then permit me but a few more minutes to properly escort the lady inside?” Camden was attempting to delay the interview, and Chloe wondered if he was trying to protect her or himself. Oddly enough, it didn’t matter which, for she was willing to do whatever necessary to help him, her belief in him was that strong.
Reluctantly, the two noblemen acquiesced with Lord Howard admonishing Camden to make haste, stressing that it was imperative they have speech with him. Throughout the encounter, Camden’s stance had been rigid, but once the two men had turned their backs, he relaxed, then spun around and pulled Chloe to him once more. Without further ado, he proceeded to kiss her senseless, instantly healing her wounded sensibilities.
Under the circumstances, her common sense demanded she hold all emotion in check. But try as she might, within the space of a few moments her own passions became unleashed with his ardency. She reveled in the feel of his hands, hungrily caressing her back while crushing her to the hard length of his body. When he finally released her, she was a little breathless as well as embarrassed by her own fervor, yet continued to cling to him.
He must have sensed her unease, for he kept her in the circle of his arms, his head lightly resting atop hers.
He broke the silence only after his own breathing had returned to a more normal rate. “Chloe, my sweet, you and I
must talk. Unfortunately, tonight is not the time, for I need to leave now.”