“You have, in more ways than the physical,” Clara said quietly. “Whether you intended to or not, you have acted in the way of a cad towards me. I admit to being naïve in the extreme; I now know there is no such thing as kisses without consequences, and I believe that you used me to achieve your aim. I cannot forgive that, more so than the deceit surrounding mine and Charles’ friendship. In all ways you have behaved despicably, My Lord. My earlier promise of informing Mr Shambles still stands. Good day.”
Clara turned on her heel, bent down to collect her bonnet and walked towards the path. Edmund took a step as if to follow her but then stopped. He was angry beyond anything he had ever felt before at the thought of Joshua Shambles touching her, but he could not disagree with what she had said.
He had used her; by God he had even argued with Henry about the fact of what he was going to do! It was his own stupidity that he had let Henry’s words persuade him. In reality they had just given him the excuse he was looking for to stay in touch to continue their kisses and flirting.
Edmund kicked the sand roughly as Clara’s form disappeared from sight. He had made a complete mess of it all.
“Miss Baker seemed eager to distance herself from you,” Henry said, casually walking towards Edmund. He smiled when his friend glowered at him.
“Mind your own business for once,” Edmund snarled.
Henry put his hands up in defeat. “I’ve never been one to become between two lovers! Don’t take your frustration out on me.”
“You won’t be so cool and confident when I tell you she knows who we are and Joshua Shambles is threatening to involve her brother if anything of his activities are discovered.”
“What? I leave you alone for five minutes and months of enquiries come crashing around my ears! You’d better tell me what the bloody hell is going on!” Henry snapped, all humour gone.
Edmund quickly briefed Henry what he had been told by Clara and what he surmised. “There is obviously something out of the ordinary going on within the next week, or he’d just move onto another location. He wouldn’t care about landing barrels of brandy on a different beach; whatever they’re planning needs this particular spot.”
“It would seem so. We are so close, yet it could so easily blow up in our faces. How much of a risk is it with Miss Baker? Do you think she’ll inform Joshua?”
“I’m not sure, I don’t think so. She hates me at the moment, but she hates Joshua Shambles slightly more, I think.”
Henry smiled slightly. “You must be losing your charm, old man!”
Edmund turned to Henry, fire in his eyes. “Is anything more important to you than the thrill of the chase? I’ve just destroyed the good opinion of one of, no, the most genuine person I have ever met, and all you can do is stand there and make it into some sort of joke!”
Henry shrugged. “Send her flowers, read her poetry, she’ll soon come round.”
“You really have no soul have you?” Edmund said in disgust.
“You’re going to tell me next that you’re sweet on the chit!”
“No, I’m not sweet on her; I think I’ve fallen in love with her,” Edmund said quietly, finally realising why he felt so sick to his stomach at the thought of Clara thinking ill of him. For the first time in his life he had met the person who he cared about more than anything and anyone else. The feeling was quite overwhelming, but it did not remove the sense of loss he would probably feel until his dying day. He had found someone so very special, and his actions had driven her away.
Henry became completely serious. “Forget about your lovelorn feelings; we are here to do a job, and I’m not going to allow you to make mistakes because you’ve decided to fall in love. Feelings like that are a weakness, they could get you killed. Buck up man! We are here to catch a traitor!”
Edmund turned away from Henry, disgusted at him. “Good luck with your plans. I’m not allowed to visit Glazebrook House, or our cover will definitely be blown; she was quite clear on that point. You’re on your own, Henry, and I couldn’t give a fig whether we get Joshua Shambles or not.”
Chapter 12
Thankfully Clara did not have to face anyone when she returned to the house. Charles had already left with Joshua, and Milly had gone for a walk through the gardens, so Clara was alone. She returned to her bedchamber and threw herself onto her bed. She wished that the canopy would fall down enabling her to be wrapped in the folds of material that would entomb her, allowing her to hide from the world.
She had been foolish in the greatest possible way. No matter how much she had tried to suppress the feelings, her vanity had been flattered, and she had believed the Earl of Chertsey was romantically attached to her. What a fool she had been! Why would he choose her over the beautiful, younger, far richer debutantes? For the first time in her life, Clara felt completely jealous of every woman under the age of twenty-two who might attract the Earl of Chertsey.
She thought her heart might break at the realisation she would never see him again, but it had been a necessary step; she could never be focused on protecting Charles while her emotions were in turmoil every time she thought of Edmund.
Her first priority was to protect Charles. If she could act normally for a week he would be safe and, hopefully, Joshua Shambles would disappear back into the hole he had crawled out of. Charles had been gullible but no more than Clara had in believing the words and actions of a rake and liar. How could she reprimand Charles when she had done exactly the same? The arguments that had occurred over the last months could have been so easily aimed at herself; the only difference being that most of her behaviour was unknown to her brother.
Clara climbed off her bed and sat before her dressing table. It would be hard hiding everything from Milly; she knew Clara better than anyone and would immediately be suspicious at the absence of the gentleman whom they both had suspected of ulterior motives in travelling so far from London. It would one day be laughable that the reason they had credited him with was so far removed from the truth; but Clara could not yet find humour in the situation.
She gazed at her reflection in the looking glass; she looked drawn, and her eyes were red with crying; it was time to pull herself together. She tried to straighten her hair without having to call her maid; the fewer people who saw her with red-rimmed eyes, the better.
As she reattached pins, she frowned. Spying was not a noble profession; if the truth came out, the Earl of Chertsey would suffer the scorn of his peers. She would use that against him if he dared to cross the threshold of Glazebrook House. Her shoulders sagged; the reality was she could not reveal the man for whom she had developed such deep feelings. Everything she felt was linked to him in such a way that it almost took her breath away.
He had mentioned Henry. She presumed that was Lord Grinstead’s given name. She would check later in Charles’ copy of DeBrett’s, but it was a reasonable guess. Two titled gentlemen involved in espionage! They should concentrate on their estates rather than get involved with smuggling and the like. Clara paused; there was obviously more at stake than brandy. She shuddered to think of the consequences for her brother if this week did not go well.
Her main priority was to protect Charles, and she had responded to the threat to him in the way she thought best. When Joshua Shambles left there would be time enough to grieve for what she had thought was hers but in reality had never been.
*
The arrival of the Beresford party the following day was the diversion Clara needed. She did not need to worry about Mr Shambles with four other ladies in residence; there would hardly be a moment when she was left alone. She did take care to be more pleasant towards him, at this point there was no reason to antagonise him. He was far more confident in the group, probably as a result of knowing she was helpless to challenge him; Clara wished she could do something about that but had to accept that his departure would have to be satisfaction enough.
Milly had raised her eyebrows in question a few times when Clara had not reacted to
something that Mr Shambles said, but Clara had avoided eye contact with her cousin as much as possible. There was no point telling Milly; the fewer people that knew, the safer Charles would be.
Mr and Mrs Beresford were a middle-aged couple who doted on their youngest child: their only girl, who had a beautiful angelic face and handsome dowry to match. Miss Beresford seemed eager to please and to be happy with everything, her blonde curls bobbing up and down almost as fast as she chattered. Her friend Miss Walsh was a pretty girl, as dark as her friend was blonde but quieter than the more gregarious Miss Beresford. The friend seemed to fade into the background a little, unless encouraged to take part in whatever conversation was going on.
Charles was delighted that his favourite was finally in his home, and he could play host with flourish. Clara noticed that although Charles was welcoming to all of his guests, he was very protective of Miss Beresford whenever Mr Shambles was in the same room; for the first time Clara wondered if Charles did not like his friend as much as she had first thought.
*
Charles had been disappointed to receive a missive from his other friends to say that they had been detained in London. Clara wondered if the lack of ladies had been the deciding factor in keeping them away but, with Mr Shambles in residence, Clara could only be thankful for it. The fewer who knew of the connection with such a man the better.
Mr and Mrs Brandon, his sister and Lord Grinstead joined the party for a meal and evening of entertainment. Clara had been surprised to see Lord Grinstead; she was sure his friend would have informed him of her threat, but she remained calm and unruffled throughout the meal.
When the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room, it was not long before Henry seated himself next to Clara. “Miss Beresford and Miss Walsh are a delightful addition to your party; our mutual friend will regret his forced absence.”
“I’m sure Mr Beresford is thankful that any potential suitor with a dubious occupation is far away from his two charges, My Lord,” Clara responded coolly.
“Ouch, Miss Baker,” Henry replied good-humouredly. “I note your displeasure, but I’m sure even you do not wish to see danger being brought to our shores.”
“I’m no Bonaparte sympathiser, My Lord, if that’s what you are implying, but I don’t like deceit of any kind.”
“A necessary evil because of the times we live in, Miss Baker.”
Clara could have screamed at the confident, nay arrogant, way the man taunted her. She rose gracefully, gathering her shawl around her as she spoke. “There is no excuse for ill-using people, My Lord. We shall never agree that there is; please excuse me; I am needed at the pianoforte. I feel my brother will wish to dance with his guests.”
Moving away, Clara noticed that Milly was watching her, but once again, Clara gave her cousin no hint of what she was feeling. She sat at the pianoforte; dancing was the activity she least wanted to get involved with but, at least if she played the music all night, she could avoid having to make too much of an effort. Somehow the evening had not been the same without Edmund, a fact that only annoyed her even more.
When the guests had returned to their homes or retired to bed, Clara was disturbed by a gentle knock on her door. She knew Mr Shambles would not be so discreet, but it was still with a racing heart she opened the door slightly, dreading seeing the man who could destroy her brother but breathed a sigh of relief when only Milly’s smiling face greeted her.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without speaking to you first,” came the ominous words from the knowing cousin.
“Come in,” Clara groaned to Milly’s quiet laugh.
“Is it so bad, Clara?”
“It’s worse.”
“You know I could never let it lie when you have been almost pleasant to Mr Shambles. Added to that the absence with hardly any explanation of the man who has been at your side ever since we first met him, there was no chance of a restful night without clearing up the mystery,” Milly reasoned, settling on the bottom corner of Clara’s bed. She wriggled until she was underneath the blankets, making herself comfortable and warm against the evening chill.
Clara laughed despite the seriousness of the conversation she could not avoid; it had been a vain hope that she would be able to keep anything from Milly.
“I’m glad you’ve made yourself comfortable; you might not be when I’ve finished telling you everything.”
Clara told Milly the whole sorry tale, including what had happened between herself and Mr Shambles. She watched as emotions ran over Milly’s face, but there were no interruptions until Clara had finished her story.
“See? I knew you would be shocked! Whose behaviour do you think is worse? Lord Chertsey for playing with our lives and feelings or Mr Shambles for threatening Charles’ safety and using him so ill?”
Milly took a moment to reply. “Is there any way we can call Mr Shambles’ bluff and hope that he will just leave?”
“If he’s of interest to two Earls, and he’s willing to threaten us with the magistrate, I’m guessing that whatever is happening over this next week is important. With himself and Charles in prison or worse, there would be no reason for any official person to remain on guard, potentially freeing the way for whatever reason our shoreline is required,” Clara said grimly.
“Charles is unaware of everything?”
“Yes. Sometimes I could shake him! He has gone around encouraging the connection, being oblivious of whom he is dealing,” Clara said with annoyance. Concern for her brother did not make him into an angel. “I noticed a cooling towards Mr Shambles whenever Miss Beresford was near, which I hope Mr Shambles doesn’t notice; the last thing we need is conflict between them at this stage.”
“I never thought I’d hear those words from you,” Milly said with a smile.
Clara laughed bitterly. “I know! What a situation!”
“You are laughing, but it’s very serious isn’t it?” Milly was sober once more.
“It is,” Clara sighed. “I was terrified when Mr Shambles…,” she shuddered. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“No, but I will be sure not to leave your side over the coming week!”
“Don’t worry; with our visitors, I’m sure I’ll hardly be alone.”
“Clara…about Lord Chertsey…,” Milly started.
“Can we leave that for another day, please?” Clara asked, her eyes sparkling a little with extra moisture. “I don’t feel at the moment that I could have a coherent conversation about anything to do with Lord Chertsey.”
“I understand, but I believe that there was truth in his words; he wouldn’t have pursued you purely to chase Mr Shambles.”
“I think you are a romantic, Milly!” Clara smiled, but the sadness in her smile touched her cousin.
“Not when you’ve seen someone look at you as Lord Chertsey does, Clara,” Milly said, climbing out of the bed. “Don’t dismiss something real just because your ego has taken a knock.”
“Do you think I’m so fickle?” Clara asked in surprise.
Milly laughed. “I think you are quicker to believe someone doesn’t like you than you are at taking the chance in believing someone could love you and all that entails.”
“Cousin, I do believe you are speaking in riddles!” Clara said in disgust.
Milly smiled, reached out to her cousin and kissed the top of her head. “Goodnight, my sweet. Dream of earls, rather than smugglers!”
Clara laughed and flung a pillow as her cousin walked across the room. The pillow missed, and Clara was left with Milly’s laughter and a fluttering stomach.
Chapter 13
An outing to the beach was arranged during breakfast the following day. It was decided that lunch would be jolly if taken near the sand; so Clara spent the morning supervising staff taking chairs, tables and food down to the beach house. Refreshments would also be provided for the more intrepid of the group who ventured onto the beach itself.
Mr and Mrs Beresford and Mr and Mrs Brand
on seated themselves in the beach house, cushions and throws providing comfort on the wooden furniture. The younger members of the party sat around the tables while they were served with platters of meat and cheese, large slices of pork and meat pies, straight from the estate, or plates of seafood supplied by the Seaton fishermen. Jellies containing fruits, blancmanges, dessert biscuits and bite-sized cakes were plentiful for those wishing to indulge in something sweet.
Clara ensured the tea caddy was placed next to Mrs Brandon, who was happy to be in charge of the supply of tea in the beach house. The gentlemen were well provided with port and wine; an elderberry wine for the ladies in addition to a punch that was Charles’ speciality, made of wine, brandy, lemons and sugar made sure that every taste was catered for.
The group stayed together until everyone had enjoyed their lunch at which point the two couples remained in the beach house, Mr Brandon dozing slightly as a result of the food and wine.
Charles and Miss Beresford led the way down the path, chattering together, amiably. Clara was unfortunate to be at the rear of the group with Mr Shambles. She remained smiling as she walked, but the action cost her a great deal.
“Your brother has been tedious these last few days,” Joshua started, his tone malevolent, but quiet.
“He has been occupied in being a good host,” Clara responded. She was afraid of the man, but she would always fight against his attempts to intimidate her.
“If I’m not being entertained, I shall have to take a closer look at what delights Miss Walsh could offer, or perhaps Miss Beresford,” Joshua responded.
Clara gasped. “If I provide the money and transport for you, will you spend your evenings away from Glazebrook House and leave the ladies alone?” If Joshua upset either of the girls, she would never forgive herself but, in addition to that, his interference would probably ruin Charles’ prospects at a marriage with Miss Beresford.
My Lord the Spy Page 11
