“You’ve no need to worry, child. I don’t think Sir Albert and I left him with a groat,” chuckled the baroness. “Now, be a dear and read to me for a while.”
Sometime later, when Chloe was leaving her aunt’s room, another door down the hall opened. She looked up and saw the large silhouetted figure of the Viscount emerging from Mrs. Palmer’s bedchamber. Rather than meet his penetrating eyes, she quickly ducked her head and hoped to pass him without a word.
But Camden had other plans, for he placed both of his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to stop. “It’s not what it appears,” he said in a hoarse whisper. There was no need for him to explain what he meant. They both knew.
“It does not matter what I think,” said Chloe, trying to keep her voice from trembling.
“But it does matter. It matters a great deal to me.”
In the gloomy hall, she met his eyes, their intensity causing her to draw in a breath. As his hand came up and gently brushed her cheek, Chloe choked back tears brought on by his touch. How could he do this to her? She wanted to voice her rage, tell him how his soft touch made her want to melt against him.
Instead, when another door down the hall opened, momentarily distracting him, she pulled away from his grasp and fled to her room. Leaning against the closed door, she bit her lip to stifle her tears. Putting on her night shift, she berated herself for a fool. She knew better than to fall for a libertine. But her heart had betrayed her. Collapsing on the bed, she finally succumbed to her heartache, using her pillow to muffle her tears.
*** Chapter 10 ***
The next day, Chloe did her best to avoid the Viscount. She had Hannah bring breakfast to her, spent the morning with her aunt, and sat at the other end of the table from him during lunch. She read to the baroness most of the afternoon, even though the old lady slept through a good part of Mrs. Ann Radcliffe’s Mysteries of Udolpho.
By dinnertime, Chloe suspected that the Viscount had a similar goal in mind, for he seemed to be keeping his distance from her as well. Never once did he glance her way when she entered the drawing room. Yet inexplicably, once Chloe realized he was just as intent on avoiding her, it rankled, even upon owning to herself that was exactly what she’d sought. Deciding to at least appear unaffected by the infuriating man, Chloe resolutely pulled herself up short whenever her eyes began to stray toward where he sat a few chairs across the table from her. After dinner, when the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, her attention was claimed by Lady Agatha Howard.
“I have known your aunt any number of years, Miss Woodforde, yet I cannot imagine why we have never met in London.” Lady Howard had requested Chloe share with her a pair of wingbacks positioned in one corner of the enormous room, hence providing a comfortable coze.
“I have only lived with Lady Milbanke for two years, my lady.”
“Two years, you say?” Lady Howard gave Chloe a smile before continuing what was beginning to feel like an interrogation. “I distinctly recall seeing your aunt at Lady Smythe-Russells’s summer rout last year, and you were not there.”
“More than likely you saw Lady Milbanke at the card tables. I usually remain in the ballroom where I can enjoy listening to the music.”
“Do you dance, Miss Woodforde?”
“Yes,” she answered, puzzled by the other woman’s inquisition. Her expression must have conveyed her thoughts because Lady Howard let out a peel of laughter.
“You must think me a ninny, asking all these questions, but you see, my dear, I know very little about you. Surely I would have remembered bumping into you on the dance floor at the Smythe-Russells’.”
Chloe, wondering where all this would lead, shifted uncomfortably in her chair. As she did so, her eyes inadvertently caught Camden making his way across the room straight for her aunt. The baroness, it appeared, was having greater difficulty than usual negotiating a straight path, colliding into a pedestal side table littered with bric-a-brac. Fortunately, no disastrous crash followed, though she had little time to reflect on this.
~~~~~
Lady Howard met Chloe’s clear hazel eyes, and saw that the young woman was somewhat embarrassed at having been caught watching the Viscount before she answered, “I do dance, my lady, but I am seldom asked to take to the floor.”
“I find that hard to believe, especially with your pretty face.”
“It is not my lack of looks, but a dowry that is wanting,” Chloe explained with bluntness.
“But, but surely...” stammered Lady Howard.
“No, my lady, when one possesses only passing fair looks as well as being a poor relation, solely dependent upon relatives for one’s existence, there are few gentlemen who can afford the luxury of seeking out one’s company on a regular basis.”
“Surely Lady Milbanke takes an interest in your welfare?”
“Oh, indeed, Aunt Sophia has been extremely good to me. Still, as circumstances are, you must understand that she needs me as much as I need her.”
“Could she not sponsor you for a Season to find a suitable husband?”
Chloe laughed good-naturedly, then explained the unique relationship she had with her aunt. “So you see, my lady,” she concluded, “even though Aunt Sophia does her best to expose me to eligible bachelors of the ton, without a dowry, there is little hope that I will attract an acceptable parti. There, too, is the possibility that were I to marry, my cousin might try to have my aunt declared incompetent. I cannot allow that, for it would break her heart to be locked away in the wilds of Lancashire.”
“I must say, you do not appear at all downcast by any of this,” said Lady Howard, much taken by the young woman and her practicality. She detected no self-pity or loathing for her position and was impressed by the poise Chloe exhibited as well as her matter-of-fact explanation. Agatha began to understand why she’d intercepted the Viscount’s eyes resting on Miss Woodforde with more than a fleeting look of interest reflected in their brooding depths. She also hoped that the hardened rake would do nothing to hurt this sensitive young lady.
Being a romantic like so many of her class, Agatha resolved to do what she could for the baroness’s companion. It would be easy enough for her to introduce Chloe to some of the officers attached to her husband’s department at Whitehall, ambitious young men who were destined for diplomatic careers. Since most had few expectations of marrying money, they would be delighted to make the acquaintance of such a lovely female who was intelligent and level-headed, particularly when one considered her blood connections.
Trying to suppress a match-making gleam in her eyes, Lady Howard asked, “Are you returning to London at the end of the week?”
“Yes, the Mount Street townhouse is my aunt’s permanent address.”
“Excellent. I am having a small dinner party next month, and with so many people following Prinny to Brighton, Town company is bound to be quite flat. However, I would deem it an honor if you would accept an invitation. I will send one around the minute we are back.”
“I am flattered, my lady,” Chloe accepted graciously.
~~~~~
From across the room, Camden kept an eye on Chloe’s tete-a-tete with Lady Howard. With an effort, he glanced down at Judith, glued to his side. He was hardily sick of her none too subtle hints for a romantic tryst later that night. For him, her voluptuous beauty had paled as her avarice nature grew, and he’d lost interest in the affair well before this house party. Of a certainty, he’d no intention of picking up where they’d left off in London. Besides, that cloying perfume of hers was giving him the headache.
He much preferred Miss Woodforde’s company but was forced to maintain a distance from that young lady. Already he feared she may be linked with him as well as having witnessed far too much for her own well being.
From the wide berth she’d given him today, Camden was sure his vicious tongue had hurt Miss Woodforde, and for the first time in his nefarious career he truly regretted having to take that particular course of action. There was lit
tle choice in the matter, however, for if his enemies spotted any partiality on his part toward her, it could ultimately mean her death. He didn’t think he could live with that on his conscience, thus surprising himself with the fact that he still possessed one.
Now the enterprising Judith was another matter altogether. She was well aware of certain risks involved, but her grasping personality prompted her to focus more on the reward, a considerable sum of money paid for services rendered to the Crown. Plus, she’d used the time scheming to get him to marry her. But there she had completely underestimated him. Camden was far too shrewd to be entrapped by one of her ilk.
Tonight, he found Judith particularly annoying, insisting he pay her court, knowing events would soon come to a head and how important her role was to the success of the plan. But he needed a breather, for his temper was short and it was a matter of minutes before his barbed tongue put the so-called lady in a snit.
When Lady Milbanke sauntered past, tipsy as usual and wobbling precariously on her feet, sideswiping a nearby table, Camden saw a chance to escape. He pried Judith’s fingers loose from his sleeve and hastily excused himself to aid the old baroness across the room.
“Allow me, Lady Milbanke,” he said, placing a hand under her frail elbow to steady the old gal.
Startled, she looked up with round glassy eyes and gave a vigorous nod or two that set the silver fringes on her purple turban swaying. After a moment, she regained her equilibrium and gave a majestic wave of her bejeweled hand, indicating her destination was a settee over by an open window.
He saw her safely seated and bowed to leave when she gripped the lace at this wrist with a blue-veined hand. “Have a seat, my lord,” she whispered loudly as she gave him an arched look. “I’ve something that needs saying.”
Despite his general dislike for the old gal, he was intrigued. Noticing Judith on the other side of the room fuming over his defection, he enjoyed a perverse satisfaction from the beautiful widow’s pique and obliged the baroness. After choosing the chair closest to her, he patiently waited for her to continue.
Still speaking in a loud whisper, Lady Milbanke began, “I know your kind condemns the likes of me as social nuisances. But my niece, now there’s a different kettle of fish. She’s a good gel, Camden, make no mistake about that.”
“I have never thought otherwise,” he replied gravely. He wondered if bats were loose in the old gal’s belfry. Could it be that she was trying to warn him off? Or more likely, playing matchmaker?
“As it should be.” She bobbed her head up and down, once again setting the frilled edges of her turban flapping. “Then, you must know that the poor dear has not a groat to fly with, all because of that no account, nip cheese nephew of mine. But Chloe’ll be my heir. Ain’t much, but enough to make a respectable dowry. Doesn’t know it though,” she said in a triumphant tone, though her slurring speech was notably more pronounced. Leaning forward a bit off center, she gave him a sly wink. “Cedric would be the last person on earth I’d leave a shilling to when the time comes for me to cork up m’ toes. That parsimonious boob tried to declare me a Bedlamite, you know, so he could lock me up. But my niece, she’d never let him get away with it.” She eyed him speculatively for a moment. “You do take my meaning, Camden?”
“Oh, yes.” Camden smiled in spite of the old broad’s blunt manner. He could well picture Miss Woodforde’s mortification were she made privy to any part of this conversation. And he recognized Lady Milbanke’s intent was not to coerce him or make him feel obligated in any way. She was looking out for her niece’s welfare, plain and simple. He could hardly fault her for that.
“Let me reassure you, Lady Milbanke, there’s no need for any concern. We are good friends, your niece and I.”
“Oh.” She sounded extremely disappointed. “Well, in that case, you might as well take me back to Morley and Edwina Reaves.”
Doing as she bid, he deposited the bosky baroness on the settee with her cronies, then joined his host who was in intense discussion with Lord Howard over the merits of a horse the Marquis planned to run at Newmarket.
After a while, when Lord Howard collected his wife to retire, Camden watched Chloe move to a chair next to the settee where Lady Milbanke and Lady Edwina Reaves sat with Sir Albert who was entertaining the women with the latest on-dits.
While Camden sincerely hoped Judith would take the hint and give him a respite of her company, he covertly kept a close eye on Miss Woodforde, steadfastly staying on the opposite side of the room. Still he found that the young woman’s mere presence had the most profound effect on his equanimity, making the evening seem interminably long.
*** Chapter 11 ***
By the end of the evening, Chloe also shared much the same complaint before she was finally able to deliver Lady Sophia over to Hannah’s solicitous care. When she asked for Lady Caro’s leash, the abigail tartly informed her that the little dog had already been taken out by a footman, then scolded Chloe for wandering around the estate late at night.
“Hasn’t been that many days passed, Missy, that you was laid up in bed and all because of that little beast. Besides, I hear tell from the servants that there’s been some big stranger prowling about these parts at night.” Sounding more like a mother hen than a lady’s maid, Hannah concluded, “No, Miss Chloe, you just march yourself straight to bed.”
For once being compliant, Chloe changed her gown for her nightrail and brushed out her hair. But she was restless and dawdled about the room, straightening the top of the vanity, rearranging the porcelain figurines and vases on the mantle. At last, she crawled into bed and tried to immerse herself in a book of sermons left on the bedside table. This proved fruitless, and after a while she gave up and tossed the boring tome to the foot of the bed in disgust. Determined to find something to read that would at least hold her interest, she decided to visit the library and so slipped out of bed, grabbed her wrapper, and headed for the door.
Moonlight from a huge window over the stairway lit the corridor, enough to allow Chloe to make her way downstairs without a taper. Once on the ground floor, the hall was much darker. She didn’t dally but made straight for the library.
She was well acquainted with the oak paneled room with shelves of books rising from floor to ceiling on three walls and found the tinder box to light a branch of candles. Reading the gold lettering on the book spines, she located several rows of Gothic novels and romances and was soon engrossed in the selection of a title.
At last, settling on a Minerva Press old favorite, Mrs. Eliza Parsons’s The Mysterious Warning, she blew out the tapers and noiselessly slipped through the door and headed for the stairs. Reaching the bottom riser, she heard the whisper of male voices coming from the upper floor. There was the soft click of a door closing, and someone started down the stairs.
Then déjà vu, a hand came from behind and covered her mouth as an arm of steel circled her waist, picking her up off the floor to draw her back against a large muscular body. Before she could gather her wits or put up a struggle, the Viscount barely breathed in her ear, “Easy, Chloe. Don’t make a sound.”
He carried her backwards to a small alcove underneath the stairway where he freed her waist and gently turned her so that she faced him. In her mind, it registered that an exceptionally heady tread was descending the stairs, but her attention was diverted by Camden as he took the book from her and tucked it behind his back. Then he covered her mouth with his lips and drew her into an embrace.
Still, fearing discovery, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a very large, sinister figure walking past their hiding place. She tried to pull away, but the Viscount tightened his hold on her. After this, she offered no more resistance as his kisses worked their magic on her senses, and she relaxed in the security of his arms, bringing her own around his massive chest.
Her actions seemed to encourage him, for his insistent tongue forced its way between her lips, penetrating her defenses. She leaned into him while one hand stroked his b
ack, feeling the hard ripple of muscles through his jacket. She was conscious of only him, the world around her having ceased to exist, and wanted only to fulfill the insatiable desire to have more of him.
When a small groan escaped her, Camden slowly released his hold on her, even as she continued to cling to him. As she became aware of his withdrawal, she quickly removed her hands from his person, brought them up in front of her, and was surprised when he put Mrs. Eliza Parsons’s novel in her hand. Focusing her eyes on it, she desperately tried to compose herself, tried to get her roiling emotions under control.
“Chloe,” he whispered.
Not knowing what to say, she remained silent. She felt his hand caress her chin, then drop to her shoulder.
“You’re playing with fire, my dear,” he practically growled. “Go to bed.” He turned her about and gave her a gentle shove out into the hall.
With laden feet, Chloe retraced the steps back to her room. Moments later, propped up in bed, she stared at the title, The Mysterious Warning, laying on her lap and almost laughed at the irony of the title and Camden’s warning. But she quickly sobered as she gazed into the shadowy corners of the room where the light from the small candelabra on the bedstand failed to reach. If word ever leaked out about her behavior with the dratted man while visiting at the Court, her reputation would be in shreds. Yet, she’d be loathed to give up one single moment spent in his company.
He remained an enigma to her, cold and even cruel one minute, the next tender and loving. And she was drawn to him just like a moth, playing about the flames of a taper, her wings already singed by his heat. What must he think of her? Tonight she’d behaved shamelessly, not only accepting his kisses but holding him, caressing his back.
Chloe let out a small groan. She was a fool to accept his advances, knowing him to be a dangerous rake, and a bigger fool to ignore the malevolent dangers that gravitated to and swirled around him. Such a self-destructive course would only doom her for pain and misery.
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