Returning to the front of the inn thirty minutes later with the terrier prancing on the leash, Chloe was greeted by a rawboned serving girl.
“There you be, Miss. They’s said you be late coming along. Follow me, if you please,” the girl said over her shoulder. Then the young girl stopped in the middle of the hall and bobbed a curtsey. “There’s yer room, Miss, and yer’ll find her ladyship directly across from yers.” Bobbing another curtsey, the maid disappeared down the stairs without giving Chloe a chance to inquire about dinner arrangements.
Turning to her aunt’s room, Chloe raised her hand to knock. The door flew open, and Hannah Rowes poked her salt and pepper head out.
“The private parlor’s been reserved and dinner’s ordered. Now all we need, Missy, is for you to give Lady Caro to me so you can go wash off your travel dirt and change into something more suitable.”
Without further ado, Chloe did as she was bid. A short while later, she and Lady Milbanke went downstairs to a quaint parlor that had exposed beams in the low ceiling and newly whitewashed walls hung with local hunting prints. A cheerful fire crackled in the grate, and the ladies were soon served a substantial and well prepared repast. The dowager baroness, however, barely tasted the poached trout or mutton stew in between the generous sips of the innkeeper’s wine and passed altogether on the bread pudding with lemon sauce offered for dessert.
Content to pursue a quiet evening, Lady Sophia remained ensconced in a padded armchair before the fire while chatting about who she expected to see at the Marchioness of Clairmont’s house party. She continued along this vain, imbibing in several cups of tea, all well laced with whisky from a silver flask tucked in her reticule. It was all for medicinal purposes, so she claimed, to help relieve the aches and pains in her old bones.
“Mark my words, child. The Clairmonts don’t invite just anybody. Bound to be some good marital prospects for you to look over.”
By the time Lady Sophia was ready to retire, Chloe had to call Hannah to assist her in getting her tipsy aunt up the narrow stairway. Together, the two women pushed and shoved, navigating the old lady to her bedchamber where Chloe was not only encumbered with her aunt, trying to keep the dowager baroness on her feet, but also had to use her skirts to keep the dancing Yorky from getting around them and out the door.
“Does Lady Caro want to go out?” cooed Lady Sophia while smiling benignly at the little pooch.
“Hannah will prepare you for bed, Aunt Sophia,” Chloe said, reaching down and picking up the dog. “I will take Lady Caro for a walk.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Missy,” Hannah replied in scandalized tones. “Tell the landlord to get one of them stable boys to do it. Ain’t right for a young lass to be roaming ‘round at night with that silly excuse for a dog.”
“What nonsense, Hannah,” Chloe laughed. “The moon is up and there is a small clearing in plain view beside the inn, to say nothing of all the activity going on in the taproom and the yard. I will be perfectly safe.”
“Don’t you go near them woods, Miss Chloe,” Hannah called after her.
With the wiggling pooch tucked under her arm, Chloe hurried down the stairs, past the noisy taproom. Stepping out into the yard, she stopped for a moment to savor the night with a crisp breeze, bright moon, sparkling stars strewn across an inky black sky. Unexpectedly, a shudder ran through her, though it wasn’t caused by the coolness of the night air. Rather a feeling similar to the one she’d experienced at the Clairmont ball, a presage that something was about to happen. Something that could change her life.
“Hey, look out!” a young ostler cried just as a dusty black and yellow curricle raced in from the main road.
Chloe stepped closer to the shelter of the inn. She drew the shivering Lady Caro she still held closer to her breasts as the curricle’s driver pulled on his team and swerved away from her. He drew the curricle to a stop with a flourish and tossed the reins to the stableboy who’d called out to her. Two high spirited chestnuts were flecked with foam, as was a huge black stallion tied to the back of the rig.
A beaver top hat, the brim pulled down low, concealed his face. Because he was a large man, a caped greatcoat gave his shoulders immense proportions. As if he knew Chloe watched him, the driver glanced over his shoulder and touched the curly brim of the hat with his gloved hand.
Chloe quickly ducked her head and made her way around the corner of the inn. Once well away from the carriage wheels and horses’ hooves, she stroked the Yorky’s silky back. “That was a close call, Lady Caro. You’ll be safer here,” she said, putting down the little dog.
She cut through a break in the yews that separated the double story Tudor inn from the field. There, the stable yard noises were muffled. The moon’s glow bathed the grassy enclosure in a soft light. Without a qualm, Chloe slipped the leash off the little dog to let it roam freely. A slight breeze gently brushed her cheeks, and mesmerized by the evening’s magic, Chloe strolled closer and closer toward the woods.
She was unsure of just when the changes in the night sounds occurred. But suddenly everything was still. No crickets chirped, no frogs croaked. Even the wind had ceased.
Behind the trees that bordered the clearing, someone or something moved stealthily. Lady Caro stopped meandering, crept closer to the security of Chloe’s skirts, and set up a high-pitched bark just as a large man emerged from the woods.
Startled, Chloe gasped. She started to call Lady Caro back to her when she felt the warm, furry body cowering under her petticoats.
In the dim moonlight, Chloe saw the stranger was over six foot in height and wore the same greatcoat as the driver who’d whipped the fancy curricle into the inn’s yard a short while earlier. Although he still wore the beaver top hat, upon closer inspection, Chloe recognized him as the infamous Viscount Camden and another gasp escaped her.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Camden drawled. His deep voice was pitched low, close to a whisper. He glanced over his shoulder to the path where he’d emerged from the woods, then asked, “You’ve come from the Rose and Thistle, madam?” When she nodded her head, he said, “Allow me to escort you back to the inn.”
His offer sounded more like a command. Before she could react, he’d grasped her elbow and led her across the open acreage toward the hostelry. She should have protested or, at the very least, pulled her arm free. Her sixth sense, however, told her she had nothing to fear in his company.
“It’s late for a young woman to be out by herself,” he said, this time in a more conversational tone.
“I was walking my aunt’s dog,” she replied, glancing down at Lady Caro. The little canine had kept up with them and was now prancing happily beside her. After nothing more than a few tentative sniffs about the Viscount’s shiny Hessians, the Yorky seemed all too ready to accept the stranger’s intrusion.
The nobleman, in turn, looked down on Chloe. She met his dark gaze as he studied her for a long moment. With a disgusted snort, he said, “Surely, you could have engaged a stable hand for such a task. It would be smarter than exposing a lady like yourself to untold perils of the night.”
For a moment, she pondered if she ought to be offended by his tone. Then at the sound of a twig snapping at the edge of the woods, she made to stop and look back. However, the grip on her arm tightened, and he hurried their pace. By the time they reached the front of the inn, she was nearly breathless from taking two steps to his one to keep up with him.
Opening the door for her, he halted to check behind them. As she twisted to do likewise, he turned his body in such a way that it effectively blocked her view.
Once inside, his dark eyes solemnly regarded her by the eerie light of a single taper sputtering in a holder on the wall. He still held her arm, although his grip had loosened somewhat.
“You’d be wise to go directly to your room,” he said.
Again, she understood it as a command. She nodded her head and leaned down to pick up Lady Caro. Rising, she glanced up and was surprised
at how close his face was to hers. Although his expression had softened, his penetrating gaze made her wary.
He reached out a large hand and pushed several stray wisps of hair back from her face. “You’re far too pretty to be roaming about the night on your own.” For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he pulled back and touched the brim of his beaver top hat to bid her a silent good evening and entered the taproom.
Once upstairs, she carried the little dog to Lady Milbanke’s chamber and tapped softly on the door. Immediately it was opened, and Hannah poked her head out. Wit her night cap askew over one long braid hanging down her left shoulder, the middle-aged matron wore a worried frown. “Lord, Missy, where’ve you been?” she asked in a hoarse whisper. “I was getting ready to rouse the landlord to go out after you.”
“I am sorry, Hannah. The time just slipped by,” Chloe apologized. “How is Lady Milbanke?”
“Went right to sleep, as usual. Don’t think it’s likely we’ll be getting too early a start in the morning.” After taking the Yorky from her, Hannah said good night and waited patiently until Chloe safely crossed the hall and entered her own room before closing the door.
Lying between the sheets on a lumpy mattress, waiting for Morpheus to overtake her, Chloe reviewed the encounter with the Viscount. There had been no mistaking who he was even though they had not exchanged introductions. Obviously, he didn’t know her. And why should he when she had been one of sundry faces in the Marquis of Clairmont’s crowded ballroom. Still her pride was rankled.
Remembering the condition of the curricle and his lathered cattle, she wondered where he’d come from, pushing his team so fast and furious. Since he’d arrived late, he’d most likely stay the night at the inn. She considered how odd it was that after such a hard drive he’d roam the woods, especially considering the lateness of the hour. Stranger still was the way he’d acted, hustling her back inside the inn. She was sure someone else had been in those woods. And then there was the way he had tenderly brushed her hair from her face. What an unusual man.
She thought of Clairmont Court. By the time she and Lady Milbanke arrived tomorrow, the house party would be in full swing. She wondered if the Viscount was also headed that way, then shook herself mentally. It was most unlikely that their paths would ever cross again. Still, it was some time before she drifted off to sleep.
*** Chapter 3 ***
The next morning with Hannah’s help, Chloe convinced her aunt to leave the inn after a late breakfast. So, by late afternoon, the coach lumbered up the long sweeping drive that wound through rolling parkland and Chloe got her first glimpse of Clairmont Court, a sixteenth century palatial, three story, limestone structure. Behind the Court, she glimpsed portions of the famous gardens laid out by Capability Brown that backed up to woods. As the carriage rounded a small pond, then stopped at the front terrace, a footman ran down the steps to help the ladies alight.
They were warmly greeted by the Marchioness, who took Lady Milbanke’s arm and led them up the stairs to their rooms. After making sure Lady Milbanke and Chloe were satisfied with their bedchambers, Lady Clairmont added, “You’ll have plenty of time to refresh yourselves before tea.”
Chloe took a moment to glance about the room with its soft blue damasked walls. The large four-poster bed was topped with a dark blue canopy which matched the coverlet and window drapes. A light blue Aubusson carpet covered most of the floor. Chloe quickly stripped off her gloves and pelisse and gratefully washed off the travel dirt. After changing into an afternoon gown of rose satin, she pulled her hair back into a loose knot, pulling several curls forward to frame her face. With one last look in the cheval mirror to check her appearance, she crossed the hall to her aunt’s room. Upon her knock, Hannah, frowning, admitted Chloe.
“Her ladyship’s complaining about a headache,” Hannah said, then whispered, “Her flask is dry and all the trunks haven’t come up yet.”
Chloe nodded, as she understood that Lady’s Sophia’s trunk with her booze stash hadn’t arrived yet. She walked over to a chaise lounge positioned in front of the fire where Lady Sophia sat in her dressing gown.
Looking at Chloe, her aunt groused, “Two days bouncing around in a coach has made my bones hurt.”
“Hmmm, I do not doubt that,” Chloe said, brushing a stray gray curl off the baroness’s pale face. “Still, Aunt, I am sure the Marchioness will be disappointed if you stay in your room.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Sophia huffed. “Adele knows I’m old. After all, I’ve outlived her mother.”
“Of course you are right,” Chloe said, turning toward the door. “I will have a tisane sent up.”
“No, no,” Lady Sophia said and rose stiffly. “Dare say a hot tea will do me better than some foul-tasting herbal concoction. Hannah, help me dress and make sure my trunks are here when I get back.”
A short while later, Chloe entered the drawing room with her aunt on her arm. They were immediately greeted by the Marchioness who made introduction as she led them around the room.
Lady Sarah enthusiastically welcomed both Lady Sophia and Chloe. Dressed in a soft pink gown embroidered with tiny red and yellow flowers, the young lady brightened when she addressed Chloe. “I am so very glad to have someone nearer to my own age, Miss Woodforde. I do hope we can spend time together.”
Next to Lady Sarah stood the Dowager Lady Edwina Reaves and her son Sir Clarence, who were both well known to the baroness and Chloe. Sir Clarence, a handsome gentleman in his mid twenties with closely cropped blond hair, fair skin, and small pale blue eyes kept his focus on Lady Sarah. As a companion, Chloe knew she could expect nothing else.
Chloe followed Lady Clairmont and her aunt to where most of the gentlemen clustered about the large fireplace in the center of the long room. Clairmont greeted his wife’s smile with one of his own before acknowledging the baroness and Chloe. In turn, the Marquis introduced them to Mr. Leslie Pearson, who bowed to Lady Milbanke, nodded to Chloe, and then turned to the tall, slim gentleman beside him.
Monsieur Pierre Guyot bowed deeply for the baroness before he took Chloe’s hand, which he held longer than necessary. As he expressed his pleasure in meeting Chloe, his deep set, brown eyes glinted with a harshness that belied his smooth manners, making Chloe feel uncomfortable in his presence.
When the Marchioness led them across the room to a settee where Sir Morley sat, Lady Sophia in a loud aside to Chloe said, “Can’t imagine why the Marquis would invite an upstart like that Frenchy.”
Inwardly, Chloe cringed and dared not glance over her shoulder at the Frenchman. “Please, Aunt Sophia, say no more,” she whispered and patted her aunt’s hand where it rested on her arm. Before her aunt could reply, she added, “Oh, do see what Sir Morley has for you, a cup of hot tea.”
Sir Morley’s beckoning smile suggested he’d laced the brew, and Lady Sophia eagerly accepted the porcelain teacup with the Marquis’s crest on it. After everyone was comfortably seated, the beautiful Judith Palmer swept through the double doors and glided straight to the fireplace and immediately struck up a conversation with Mr. Pearson. The lovely blonde never left Pearson’s side, nor did she circulate among the other guests.
A short while later, just as Chloe and Lady Milbanke had started to head up stairs to dress for dinner, a commotion announcing a new arrival commenced at the front door. As Chloe glanced behind her, she saw Camden arriving, looking quite travel worn with his hair disheveled and his greatcoat covered in dust. Camden must have realized that she was watching for he lifted his eyes to where she stood on the stairs and nodded his head in recognition. Embarrassed at having been caught staring, Chloe quickly diverted her eyes and hurried up the stairs.
Later, the guests gathered before dinner in the drawing room. After settling her aunt on a settee with Lady Reaves, Chloe noticed that the Viscount was absent, and apparently so did Mrs. Palmer. Dressed in a shimmering silver gown that had a scandalously low neckline, the widow’s eyes kept darting to the door. She wa
s finally rewarded when Camden entered and she immediately glided across the room to meet him and slipped her arm possessively through his.
“I’m sorry I am so late,” said Camden, greeting his host as the Marquis met him at the door. Except for the startling white of his cravat and the emerald stick pin, Camden dressed all in black, including his waistcoat. He’d brushed his dark hair back from his forehead, and it curled at the nape of his neck. His midnight blue eyes scanned the room, and when he saw Chloe, his gaze remained on her as he said, “Business detained me in London, and I could not get away before today.”
Chloe understood the reason why the Viscount’s stare remained on her. She knew the truth about where he was the previous night. But she would never confront him with the lie and so submissively lowered her eyes and turned around to talk with Lady Milbanke.
At dinner, Chloe was seated between Mr. Pearson and Sir Clarence. Mostly ignoring her, both gentlemen spent much of the dinner talking to their other partners, Lady Sarah who was beside Sir Clarence and Judith Palmer by Pearson. Fortunately, this suited Chloe’s mood. She was intrigued by the Viscount’s late arrival and his dissembling of his whereabouts. Remembering what the garrulous Amy Sansbury had said about Camden, Chloe wondered if the espionage rumors might hold some truth. Certainly, her encounter with the Viscount at the Rose and Thistle Inn was enigmatic, and now he claimed to have been detained in London. If the gossip was true, she pondered what possibly could have brought the Viscount to the wilds of Kent.
After dinner, the Marchioness led the ladies to the drawing room to allow the gentlemen their port and cigars. Chloe sat with Lady Sophia and Lady Reaves and listened to the two dames trade the latest on-dits. When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, Sir Morley took a seat next to Lady Milbanke. He smiled at Chloe and said, “My dear Miss Woodforde, you cannot be interested in the prosaic musings of sanctimonious fossils. Do go and join the youngsters.”
The Poor Relation Page 2
