The Poor Relation

by Bennett, Margaret

  It was a very long time before she snuffed out the candles and even longer before she fell into a troubled sleep.

  ~~~~~

  After a restless night, Chloe woke feeling drained and listless. As the day dragged on, her flagging spirits were far from improved. The Marchioness had scheduled dinner earlier than usual to allow for a musical evening completely arranged by Lady Sarah. A number of young people from the neighborhood had also been included, and everyone was looking forward to the change of pace. However, with no entertainment planned until the evening, the guests were left to their own devices.

  After taking some time to explore the woods while walking Lady Caro, Chloe diddled a good part of the day away reading to the baroness. In the afternoon, she met Lady Sarah and together they strolled sedately through the gardens. Lady Sarah used the time to persuade Chloe to lend her voice to the evening’s entertainment.

  Throughout the day, Chloe hoped to see the Viscount yet dreaded the encounter, fretting over how he would receive her. She needn’t have worried for she did not lay eyes upon Camden all day. Still, she allotted extra time to dressing in an apricot silk with lace trimmings. Hannah pulled up her hair, then pulled curls to frame her face. Having had him on her mind all day, Chloe knew she looked her best and was at last ready to greet his midnight blue eyes.

  She spotted Camden the moment he sauntered into the back salon where everyone was gathering for dinner since the drawing room was being arranged to accommodate the mini concert. He was dressed in sartorial splendor. His black evening clothes set off the embroidered white satin waistcoat and impeccably tied cravat with the square-cut emerald stick pin. Though his eyes sought her the moment he entered, his expression was unreadable. Chloe still felt confused after the previous night’s encounter and decided to greet his cold reception by turning her back to him. Besides, it was too painful to watch him dance attendance on the beautiful Mrs. Palmer who materialized almost instantly by his side.

  To further tax her composure, dinner became an ordeal with Monsieur Guyot as her partner. As was his wont, he persisted in quizzing her. This time, he asked about the life she shared with Lady Milbanke when in London, who they knew and where they went. He seemed particularly interested in her relationship with Lord and Lady Howard and feigned amazement when Chloe related that she have been unacquainted with Lady Howard until the house party.

  “Mais, how is it that you are, er, how you say . . . close?” he persisted.

  “I could hardly describe our relationship as close, sir,” replied Chloe, beginning to lose patience with the prying toad. “Lady Howard is a gracious woman who has extended her friendship to me while here at the Court. She has been kind enough to promise my aunt and me invitations to one of her dinners.”

  “How nice for you, Mademoiselle Woodforde,” he said, finally letting the subject drop. But Chloe could tell from his tone that he was far from convinced that she spoke the truth.

  After dinner, guests from the neighborhood began to arrive. Most were young girls of Lady Sarah’s age with their parents and several young bucks. Having little inclination to mingle with the gay younger set, Chloe took sanctuary in the company of her aunt and Sir Albert once the performance got under way. All in all, the talent displayed by the vocalists was respectable if not the highest caliber, and Chloe was amused, even impressed by their animation where ability was lacking.

  When it came time for her performance, she managed to maintain an outward calm and faced away from where the Viscount sat with the ever clinging Mrs. Palmer. Chloe’s voice rang clear and true, and though gratified by the applause, she declined to sing another song.

  She had returned to her seat, only to be mortified by the accolades of her tipsy aunt.

  “Lovely, my dear, truly lovely. Was it not, Morley?” Before Sir Albert could agree, the baroness’s voice again carried across the room clear as a bell. “Except for Lady Sarah’s, but of course, the gel should sing like a bird with all the blunt Clairmont’s laid out for a trainer. Still and all, you sang most divinely, my dear.”

  Unruffled and with an indulgent smile, the Marchioness soon rose and announced an intermission for everyone to partake of an elaborate repast set out in the dining room. When Sir Albert offered to escort Lady Sophia and herself, Chloe begged off, opting for a little solitude instead of the small feast that included lobster patties, paper thin slices of ham, an assortment of pastries, rafata and champagne.

  Ducking out a side door that led onto a small terrace off the drawing room, Chloe wrapped her arms about her to ward off the cool night air. She was reluctant to retrieve her shawl and possibly chance becoming engaged in conversation with one of the guests. So to block out the chilly dampness, she concentrated on peering about the shadowy garden. Despite the scudding clouds intermittently obscuring a bright moon, her eyes picked out movement between the row of tall yews where a huge dark mass seemed to separate, then come together again. Curiosity getting the better of her, she followed a low stone balustrade that ran along the perimeter of the porch until finding steps leading down to the ground level.

  From this vantage point, she saw two figures interlocked, doing a crazy dance, going back and forth among the bushes. Her first thought was that she’d stumbled upon a lovers’ tryst. But there seemed to be a violent intensity to the couple’s ardor as well as their apparent indifference to the damp chill that was fast creeping into her bones.

  The music started up again, and Chloe decided to go inside when the cavorting pair disappeared behind a hedge. Then came the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by grunts from the unfortunate recipient who suffered the viscous blows. She hesitated, vacillating between staying where she was or going back inside to get someone to come and investigate.

  Then more grunts and groans accompanied a series of fast and furious punches. Someone was receiving a dreadful pummeling, and heedless of any danger to herself, she lifted her skirts to go down the stairs and ran swiftly to the hedges where she came to an abrupt halt.

  Impulsive she might be, but not stupid. She knew better than to try to break up a brutal fight between the sort of ruffians who were engaged in such barbaric behavior. Yet she hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do next. It was obvious something had to be done, however. Feeling extremely foolish, in desperation she called, “Hello! Is anyone there?”

  A long, palatable silence ensued. Beads of perspiration broke out on her brow. She was dizzy with fear and quickly took several fortifying gulps of air. Its coolness shocked her into action once more.

  “Who’s there? Is anyone hurt?” Her voice was quaking, and she was incapable of shouting, her mouth was like cotton. Within moments, there came the heavy tread of boots, and she saw the outline of a large man, crouched low, running along the path. Then she heard only the wobbly trill of a slightly off key soprano competing with the pianoforte.

  Cautiously, Chloe peered through the brushes while tiptoeing stealthily along the tall border. Hearing another groan, she braved the first break she came to in the yews, and her soft satin slipper kicked a body lying on the ground. Losing her balance, she came crashing down on top of someone.

  Appalled that she might inflict more pain on the poor injured soul, she tried to jump up when her upper arm was seized in a vice-like grip. As she started to rise, the person clung to her, then with another groan, fell back to the ground. She quickly rolled off the man onto her knees.

  “Oh, sir, you are hurt!” she cried in alarm.

  She felt his body stiffen and groped to find his head, then cradled the side of his face in her hand. “Can you speak, sir?”

  He mumbled incoherently, something that sounded rather more like annoyance than pain. Somewhat heartened, she used her other hand to run her fingers lightly over a broad torso and felt the stick pin in his cravat, cut in the shape of a rectangle. A sigh escaped her and she said, “Oh, good heavens.” When her fingers brushed his lips, he caught them in a strong grasp, but not before she felt the swollen lip and th
e hot sticky wetness of blood.

  “My lord,” exhaled Chloe, truly frightened, though not for herself. The Viscount, whom she thought invincible, was now laying flat on his back. “Tell me where you hurt? No, wait! I will go for help!”

  She pulled away, only to be instantly jerked back by the hand that still held hers, falling heavily on top of his hard chest, and heard the air painfully expelled from his lungs. Just as suddenly, he flung her aside, where she landed ungracefully on her rump as he raised himself on one elbow and turned away from her to cast up his accounts.

  Once the retching sounds ceased, she laid a shaky hand tentatively on his shoulder. He shifted his weight to his other elbow, using his body to block the odor and sight of his disgrace.

  “What are you doing here?” he managed to wheeze in a hoarse whisper.

  “I was on the terrace when I saw that monster attacking you.”

  “So naturally you came charging to my rescue, all alone?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Well, I was not aware it was you that abominable man was unmercifully beating.”

  “He shouldn’t have had the chance except that I was careless and let him get the drop on me. But what you did makes even less sense. You were willing to forfeit your life to help a complete stranger?”

  He was actually angry with her, the ungrateful brute! “You make me sound moronic.”

  “So you are!” he retorted in a fierce whisper.

  “We are only a few yards from the drawing room. I could have screamed--”

  “Use that beautiful head of yours, Chloe. With the doors closed and the musicians playing, no one would hear you.”

  As the eerie light from the moon silhouetted his darker form against the grass, she removed her hand from his shoulder and took in his powerful frame. He was right, of course. Her screams would have been futile. Still, she shuddered to think of the outcome had she not shown up when she did.

  He let out another involuntary groan and clutched his stomach. She realized he was in considerable pain. Reaching for him, she asked, “How can I help?”

  “You can’t. I don’t want you involved. Go back inside. Pretend nothing has happened.”

  “Now whose mind is to let,” she answered tartly. “My gown must be quite beyond repair, especially after you were so conscious of my welfare and ungallantly shoved me away.”

  “Forgive me,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “I’m not my usual suave self.”

  “Let us quit fencing, Lord Camden. There is definitely something havey-cavey going on here. If you were to tell me, perhaps I can help extricate you from whatever trouble you are in.”

  He stared at her a moment before laughing softly. “You’re a jewel among women, do you know that Chloe?” She wished she could see his eyes, tantalized as she was by the warmth of his voice. “Of all my female acquaintances, I can’t think of another woman who would willingly sacrifice her personal safety for me, to say nothing of ruining a ball gown.” He laughed again, a harsh sound with that familiar sarcastic edge. “But you are far safer not knowing what’s afoot. In fact, you would do well to shun my company altogether, considering my penchant for fisticuffs.”

  “Must you persist in cracking jokes over such a serious matter, my lord?” she admonished him.

  “Call me Oliver. I believe our relationship has progressed far enough along for us to address each other by our Christian names.” He paused, but when she did not reply, he said, “Say my name, Chloe.”

  “Oliver,” she began, drawing out the syllables and deciding she liked the way it rolled off her tongue. “Will you tell me why that horrible man is trying to hurt you?”

  “Answer me this, Chloe, has it ever crossed your naïve intellect that I might be the villain in all this?”

  Without the slightest hesitation, she vehemently replied, “Never!”

  He shook his head in disbelief, then shifted and tried to rise. She immediately came to his aid, taking his elbow to help support him and was surprised when he offered no resistance. He placed an arm across her shoulders, although she was hardly supporting any of his weight, and studied her upturned face with the moonlight illuminating it.

  “The salon doors at the back terrace should be open,” he said, leading the way as if they were out for a leisurely stroll.

  “You are not going to tell me anything, are you, Oliver?”

  “Ah, you are astute. No, my dear, I am not.” He must have felt her disappointment and anger as she stiffened her shoulders. “But it is not because I do not trust you. Far from it, my valiant girl.”

  When they came to the salon’s French doors, instead of reaching for the handle, he stopped and drew her closer to him.

  “Ride with me tomorrow morning?” he asked.

  “You will forgive me if I find your request incredible since you have just warned me of the danger of being seen in your company?”

  “So you do possess claws,” he mildly reprimanded her. “Truth is, you’ll be safe with me during the daylight hours. No one’s fool enough to try anything then, and neither will I.” There was the slightest hint of regret in his voice as he pulled her roughly against his hard chest. His arms encircled her as his chin came to rest lightly on top of her head.

  “I don’t think I could live with myself if anything happened to you,” he whispered with what she could only interpret as an affectionate squeeze. Letting her go, he opened the door and ushered her into the salon and over to the door opening onto the hall. “Now, make your way upstairs as fast as you can. Don’t worry about coming back down. I’ll make your excuses to Lady Milbanke, something about you having the headache and retiring early.”

  “But what about the cut on your mouth?” Surely anyone looking at his face would know he’d been in a fight.

  “Trust me, Chloe. I’ll take care of it. Now go, and do not walk that blasted dog tonight.” He opened the door to have a quick look. With his hand at the small of her back, he said, “Until tomorrow morning,” and sent her flying out into the corridor.

  She did not chance looking back, as she could hear voices coming from the drawing room, but hiked up her skirts and raced for the stairs. When she reached her room, she quickly undressed and donned her wrapper. Picking up the gown, she used the water in the basin on the dresser and tried her best to scrub off the grass stains. Hannah was bound to inquire about them, she thought ruefully, and wondered how she could explain the ruination of her best gown.

  Then, the Viscount’s fervent avowal that he could not bear the thought of anything happening to her popped into her mind, and a very large smile split her face. He’d also asked her to call him Oliver. He must care for her.

  In the very next instant, copious tears rained down her cheeks as the beautiful widow’s warnings and Camden’s own damning words came back to her. There was no question that the man was a rake of unscrupulous character and even now was involved in some nefarious intrigue while accepting the hospitality of a friend. He was probably a spy as rumor had it, though she never doubted on whose side he worked.

  Blowing her nose on a lace handkerchief, she pondered his words again. Certainly his actions bespoke more than mere friendship, and reluctantly she acknowledged how grateful she was that he had even noticed she existed. Still, such a rogue would have little regard for a penniless nobody like her. Yes, she’d be wise to keep her guard up, resisting all his amorous advances and regularly reminding herself of his reputation as a practiced womanizer.

  In the end, all the self castigation, all the soul searching was for naught. Despite her better judgment, despite the widow’s warning, Chloe determined to ride out with him on the morrow if for no more than the sheer pleasure of his company. After all, there could be no real danger in that.

  *** Chapter 12 ***

  The day dawned bright, and in anticipation of spending the morning with the Viscount, Chloe rose early and donned her favorite habit of deep amber. It was a perfect foil for the golden highlights of her hair, which she piled up under a toque w
ith a sassy black feather. She descended the stairs in record time for breakfast. When she entered the dining room, there Camden sat, hunched over a plate of scrambled eggs, kidneys and a beefsteak.

  She noted that, except for a small cut on his lower lip, his face wasn’t marred, and he appeared to be suffering no lingering malady from the beating. Indeed, from the amount of food piled on his plate and the gusto with which he attacked it, Chloe was hard pressed to believe that he had sustained even one blow the previous night.

  He glanced up and greeted her with a warm smile, and her heart actually lurched within her breast. Managing an outward calm she far from felt, she exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather, took a seat across from him, and accepted a cup of hot chocolate from the footman. Reaching for a silver bread basket, she willed her racing heart to behave.

  “You look charming for so early in the day,” he complimented her after his connoisseur’s eye had critically assessed her person. He smiled again as Chloe felt a blush mount her cheeks.

  Thanking him, she tried to hide her self consciousness, and a companionable silence ensued while he polished off his plate and she diligently applied herself to buttering and eating a muffin. No sooner had she drained her cup than Camden was at her elbow, ready to lead her out to the stables where a groom waited with his stallion and a dappled gray mare.

  “Ah, I see Brutus is as anxious as I am to be off this morning. He’s going to be more rambunctious than usual with a lady to show off for.” There was a teasing note in Camden’s voice that Chloe decided was best to ignore.

  With big front hooves impatiently striking the ground, the glossy black stallion tossed its massive head about, snorting and generally giving the groom a bad time. To Chloe’s immense relief, for she was far from being an accomplished rider, her mount was neither prancing nor pulling on her bit. And though the pretty mare stood quietly, its intelligent eyes and sleek lean lines bespoke spirit. Stroking the velvety nose and talking softly to introduce herself, Chloe found half a carrot placed in her hand.