“Do you think she was shaken about that night?” Charles hated talking about the incident; it haunted his dreams; he tried to avoid mentioning it whenever possible.
“She must’ve been,” Clara said. “We aren’t exaggerating the matter; we really were in danger; she must realise it too.”
“I know. I just keep trying to block it out; I suppose it might not be as easy for everyone.”
“Could you never forgive me and Lord Chertsey for what we did?” Clara asked quietly.
“I just feel so stupid about everything, Clara, and this just goes to reinforce it.”
“I know, and I’m truly sorry,” Clara said sadly.
The door opened, and Milly walked into the room, struggling to carry something with her. “Right, here we go. Charles, this is the dress Clara wore the last time she visited Mrs Langtree’s. I suggest you find your mask because you are both visiting tonight,” Milly said firmly.
“Milly!” Clara gasped.
“What? It’s the only way to resolve this one way or another, Clara. You must go to him, and Charles can offer you protection until you can be alone with Lord Chertsey.”
Clara looked at Milly, her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t go, Milly.”
“Why not? Charles will forgive him, won’t you Charles?”
“It’s not that,” Clara said before Charles had chance to answer. “You heard what I heard. He visits Mrs Langtree’s regularly. There is only one reason why he would do that.”
“And what’s that?” Milly asked in genuine confusion.
“To visit the obliging ladies that reside there,” Clara said, her heart tearing.
Milly looked at her cousin, wanting to say something to comfort her, but not finding the words, but then Charles spoke. “He does, but only of a fashion.”
“What do you mean?” Clara asked.
“He mentioned something in his drunken stupor,” Charles started. If he wanted to keep his sister apart from Edmund it had been the perfect opportunity to hold his counsel, and she would believe the worst of Edmund for the rest of her days; but he could not. Milly’s words had rung true; there had been foolishness on all sides, and now was the chance to put it to one side and help his sister achieve the happiness he felt every time he thought of his beloved.
“If he was drunk, it could hardly be classed as proof of anything,” Clara said sadly. For a moment she had felt hope, but it was not to be.
“Have you never heard the saying, if you want to hear the truth ask a drunk?” Charles said with a smile. “He visits Mrs Langtree’s to talk to the girls and try and understand women. You’ve got him baffled, Clara, and he doesn’t know what to do to make things right. You’d best prepare yourself for a shock when you see him; he looked decidedly ill.”
“The foolish man!”
“Good! Now that’s sorted, it’s time to plan this evening’s visit!” Milly said with a smile.
Chapter 23
Entering Mrs Langtree’s for a second time, Clara felt very strange. She was being escorted by her brother, which made the whole situation even more surreal. Her mask was firmly in place, but Edmund’s words about recognising people seemed to be echoing through her mind.
Charles squeezed Clara’s hand as it was resting on his arm. “Relax,” he whispered.
“Easier said than done,” Clara whispered back.
“Let’s have a look around, and then we’ll find an empty room; I think we’d both benefit from a large drink.”
Clara nodded in agreement, her eyes looking everywhere, trying to make out the figure she was longing to see again.
There was no sign of Edmund in the public rooms, so Charles led his sister to a private room. He could sense that Clara was despondent at the fact they had not found Edmund, but he was determined not to give up quite so soon.
Once the door was closed, Charles moved across to the table and poured two large brandies. “Come, you need this to keep your spirits up.”
“I think we’re on a fool’s errand,” Clara said despondently.
“I have faith in him dear sister,” Charles said, removing his mask and raising an eyebrow at Clara.
Clara smiled a little and sipped the drink. The brandy burned as it made its way down her throat, but she needed the warmth, the whole situation was leaving her insides cold.
“I’m going to leave you in here; lock the door after me and don’t open it until I return,” Charles instructed.
Clara had a feeling of déjà vu and had to smile at the fact of role reversal between Charles and Edmund. “Knock five times in quick succession when you return,” Clara said.
“If he’s here, I’ll return with him; I promise,” Charles said, before drinking the remaining brandy in his glass and leaving the room.
Clara paced backwards and forwards across the floor. She had no idea of what to do even if he did follow Charles. How could she tell him that she had been wrong?
It seemed an eternity before the five knocks were heard on the door. Clara ran over to the door and quickly unlocked it, stepping to the side to let Charles in.
Charles was struggling to support the bulky form of Edmund. Clara closed and locked the door and stepped to the side. Charles let Edmund slump onto the large over-wide sofa that was in the room.
“Where was he?” Clara asked.
“The lady he was with, assures me that he comes in every night, tries to have a drunken conversation with one of the women and then drinks himself into a stupor. From the look of him, I think we should have arrived earlier,” Charles said with an apologetic smile.
“This is not a good sign,” Clara half-moaned.
Charles fixed his mask back on, it had been knocked to the side while he had been struggling with Edmund’s form. “Well, my dear, I’m going to leave you now.”
“What do you mean? You can’t leave me!” Clara exclaimed.
“He saw you home safely last time; he will this time. I can do no more; you can do nothing until he has slept off whatever he has been drinking. I suggest you lock the door behind me and settle down; I think it’s going to be a long night for you,” Charles said with a smile. He embraced Clara and whispered in her ear. “I hope the next time we meet I will be wishing you happy, and don’t forget: if he won’t listen to you, you could always scream compromise, and then he’d be forced to marry you!”
Clara laughed. “Be gone! I would never trick anyone into marriage!”
Charles became serious. “If you are discovered here, you will have no choice. Be careful Clara; I know I’m being flippant, but this is a serious business. If I wasn’t sure that you both loved each other deeply, I would never leave you in this place.”
“Thank you for your help,” Clara said with feeling.
“Good luck!” Charles said, before leaving the room.
Clara locked the door behind her brother and double-checked that the door was secure. She wrapped her arms around herself, slipping the key in her pocket. Everything had moved so fast since the conversation with Milly that she had only given the briefest thought to what she would say to Edmund when faced with him. She smiled; in all of the situations that she had run through, none involved a man unconscious with drink and being locked in a room in a den of iniquity. She just hoped that one day it would prove an amusing story for some descendant. Depending on the next few hours would determine whether she would be telling the story to her own children or as a disgraced maiden aunt to her nieces and nephews, if they were allowed anywhere near her.
A blanket lay over the back of the sofa; Clara closed her mind to what it was usually used for and covered Edmund’s body with it. She tried to make him more comfortable, but he was hard to move. She pushed at his shoulders, and his arms moved around her, pulling her towards him.
“Clara,” he muttered into her hair.
“Yes?” Clara whispered, her heart pounding.
“Clara,” he moaned, before falling back to sleep.
Clara groaned; she should have felt b
etter; he had moaned her name, but instead she was frustrated to be trapped in his arms. She muttered to herself as she wriggled and pushed against the solid form. Why was she the one who had the drunken man as a possible lover? Other women had flowers and romance; she had a man who would think goodness-knows-what when he finally awoke. Charles was right, it was going to be a long night.
*
Edmund moved, and his head felt like it was going to explode. Last night had been particularly heavy because he had seen her leaving a house after a morning visit. She had been smiling, and it had almost ripped him in two. She had forgotten him, leaving him behind in a dark place.
He did not remember arriving at Mrs Langtree’s, although he knew where he was. He returned to this place every night as if he knew here he could block out the pain.
It was some time before he was able to open his eyes and, even then, the room hardly came into focus. He saw the woman’s form on the chair; it was unusual for anyone to stay with him when he had lost consciousness; she had probably decided that he would pay her for all the hours he had been asleep.
She moved and went out of his line of sight. He tried to follow her, but his head hurt too much. She returned a few moments later, a wet cloth in her hand.
“This will help the headache,” she said softly, before placing the cool cloth across his forehead.
Edmund leaned back, he was going insane; Clara was talking to him now. He closed his eyes again and drifted back off to sleep.
Clara replaced the cloth every time it warmed up, but Edmund slept on. Daylight was beginning to peep through the night sky, and worry was furrowing Clara’s brow. She had no idea if the rooms had to be emptied at a certain time. She had no money and no idea if Edmund had arrived in his carriage or on foot. Suddenly the plan that had seemed so easy now seemed foolish in the extreme.
Eventually Edmund woke once more. The throbbing had almost gone, just replaced with a dull ache behind his eyes. He blinked his eyes open and was once again faced with the young woman sitting in the chair opposite. This time he was able to focus on her and almost jumped up from his supine position. He groaned as everything inside his head complained at the sudden movement.
“Clara? What the devil are you doing here?” Edmund croaked.
“I could ask you the same question, I suppose,” Clara responded tartly, although her heart had leapt at the sound of her given name on his lips. It had not sounded quite the same when he was in a drunken heap.
“Don’t be flippant; my head can’t cope with it. I’m being serious: what are you doing here?” Edmund was struggling with coherent thought.
“You withdrew from society. I never saw you,” she said quietly. Charles had been correct; Edmund did look the worse for wear, and it wasn’t just through a night of heavy drinking. There was a few days growth on his beard. There were bags under his eyes emphasised by dark circles. She was the one who had caused him to look so dishevelled, and her heart tugged for him. She wanted to reach out to him and draw him to her, but as yet, she did not know if he would reject her.
“There’s nothing in society for me anymore.”
“Lord Grinstead is missing you,” Clara probed.
“He can go to hell! I should’ve never got involved with him; it’s been too high a cost.”
“But you wouldn’t have met me if you hadn’t been involved with Lord Grinstead and his battle against the French,” Clara said, contradicting everything she had said previously.
“If I hadn’t met you, we would both be getting on with our lives as we had until then,” Edmund said bitterly.
“That’s true, but then again…”
“What, Clara? What is it you want from me? Has Charles gone astray again?” Edmund asked feeling as if he were being tortured.
“Charles brought me here, in fact, he brought you to this room. He’s returned home many hours ago,” Clara explained.
Edmund sat on the edge of the seat. It looked as if he were ready to spring up and leave Clara. She could not let him walk away so easily. She stood and moved in front of him crouching down before him, folding her hands over his own clasped ones. He felt cold to the touch, and she worried about him.
“The last time we spoke, I spoke too hastily. I was reeling from what had happened; I lashed out at you, and I’m sorry for that,” Clara said softly, slowly rubbing warmth into Edmund’s hands.
“You’ve always hated what I did. I’m still under pressure to rejoin Grinstead, although, after I nearly destroyed the last operation, he might not be quite so keen to allow me in on the next one,” Edmund said with little humour.
“What did you do?”
“I saw you being captured, and he had to hold me back to prevent me going to you straight away. I didn’t care if I got killed in the process, I just had to reach you. He eventually convinced me to wait, but when I heard the scream from inside the cave I just ran. I nearly collapsed with relief when I saw that you were safe.”
“It wasn’t me who screamed,” she said quietly. It had been Joshua.
“I just thought it was you. I needed to reach you.”
Clara had not realised it at the start of the night, but this was the perfect time to speak to Edmund. His defences were completely down, and he was speaking from the heart, something he would not have done at any other time.
She moved one of her hands and moved his hair out of his eye. “My brave man, I had no idea what was going on, but it was not my scream you heard from the cave; it was Joshua’s, Charles slashed him with his knife.”
Edmund winced. “He could have so easily killed you,” he said with a shudder.
“I know, but he didn’t, and Charles was there and then there was you. I wanted to move to you, but I didn’t have the strength to leave Charles’ side. I’d promised my mother so much, and that night I nearly failed her.”
“Tell me,” Edmund said gently and listened as Clara told him about her deathbed promise and how frightened she had been when Joshua had appeared on the scene. “Charles is his own man. He had to make his own mistakes,” Edmund said gently.
“I know that now and so does he, but I didn’t until then. I hadn’t given him enough credit and only realised on that night that he was a man in control of his own life,” Clara acknowledged.
“And what happens now?” Edmund asked, so close to Clara but not touching her as he wished. Everything could still go so very wrong.
“That depends on you,” Clara said with a blush.
“I need to hear it from your lips, Clara. You’ve rejected me once, and you were quite clear in your condemnation. I cannot presume anything now. I might be declared weak, but I can’t face your refusal a second time,” Edmund said, the surety, which was almost arrogance completely vanished.
“Almost as soon as you’d left the house I knew I’d made a mistake. I speak first and think later; just ask Charles,” Clara admitted with a small smile. “I wanted to call you back, beg forgiveness for my mistake and start again, but it was too late.”
“And now?” Edmund pushed.
Clara took a breath. “And now I want to be with you in any form that takes. I’m not happy without you.”
“Any form that takes?” Edmund asked in surprise. “Clara, are you offering to be my mistress?”
“I’m offering anything,” Clara said, but it was obviously a response that had cost her.
Edmund freed his hands from her grasp and wrapped his arms around her. “My dear, dear Clara,” he whispered into her hair.
Clara clung to him, torn in two by the thought that he was holding her, but almost crying with despair that he had accepted her offer of being his mistress.
Edmund lifted her chin slightly and kissed her lips gently. “Clara, know one thing that I could never do.”
“What?”
“I could never accept you as my mistress,”
Clara sagged. “Oh.”
“You foolish girl; there is only one thing I will accept and that is you as my wife. I nee
d to be married to a woman who will enter into a den of iniquity to protect those she loves, who will take me to task on the rare occasions that I’m wrong, who will love me as much as I love her. You do love me, don’t you, Clara?”
“I love you and only you,” Clara said in a whisper.
“Will you promise to kiss only me?”
“I promise. Although I’ve heard that one gets far more enjoyment out of kisses if one closes one’s eyes,” Clara said, a gleam of mischief finally coming into her eyes.
“Let’s see; shall we?” Edmund said before lifting Clara onto his lap and showing her just how enjoyable kisses could be.
The End
About this book.
These next few paragraphs might be quite controversial, but please bear with me!
I’m sure like me, you’ve read lots of Regency Romances where the hero is both an aristocrat and a spy. This is actually historically incorrect and, as my readers do take me to task when I get things factually wrong, I thought I’d write a spy story that was slightly different.
Spying as an occupation was not honourable in Regency England. Forget the recent television programmes and books, spying involved lying and cheating and would not have been looked on with anything but disgust by the aristocracy. Also, spying takes time. The aristocracy had to run large estates, they had involvement in the local lives of their tenants as well as being involved in London (Brighton or Bath) life: they hunted, attended the Season and don’t forget the politics they were involved in! I’m not saying their lives were hard, but they were certainly full. Read any realistic spy book, and it will go into detail about the excessively large amounts of time spent watching, observing and listening. It certainly isn’t something that you could dip in and out of.
That said, there is always an exception to the rule! So, I decided to give my two Earls a rebellious streak and have them involved in spying. I thought it was important that, when Clara found out what they did, she would show some of the disgust that they would have experienced if their occupation had been known by wider society.
So, I hope you’ve enjoyed my slight twist. If you have, Henry, Earl of Grinstead
My Lord the Spy Page 19
