Indiscreet

by Candace Camp

  “How is Grandpapa?” Camilla asked, knowing that only from Anthony would she get an entirely straight and unvarnished answer.

  He shrugged. “Better, I think. He was excited all day, waiting for you to arrive.”

  “I am sorry I was late. My coachman lost the way. We had to go back to the inn and get a new coachman and a boy to lead the way.”

  “He was certain you would be bringing a husband with you. How did he know?”

  Camilla shook her head. “Just hope on his part, I think. I had not written that I was bringing Benedict. Heavens, I didn’t even know it until tonight. I came here prepared to confess my whole stupid lie. I didn’t even know that Aunt Lydia had turned my fiancé into a husband.”

  Anthony grimaced at her words. “I told Mama she shouldn’t have said that. But by then, of course, it was too late.” He frowned. “I never liked anything about the idea from the beginning. I mean, it’s too difficult a thing to pull off. I figured you were bound to run aground with it.”

  Camilla made a show of crossing her fingers. “So far I have not.”

  Anthony scowled even more darkly. “You’re deeper in a quagmire than ever. How did that fellow in your room come into this? Who is he—and don’t tell me Mr. Lassiter, for I know that’s a bouncer.”

  “No. Of course he’s not Mr. Lassiter. His name is Benedict.” She could not bring herself to admit that she did not know the man’s last name. “I met him tonight.”

  “Tonight!”

  She nodded. “When I got lost.”

  Anthony groaned. “Camilla! And you talk about me being impulsive! Whatever possessed you to pretend he was your husband?”

  “I only hired him to be my fiancé. It wasn’t until I got here that I found out Aunt Lydia had promoted him to husband. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known that. But once I came in here with him and Aunt Lydia called him my husband, what could I say? I couldn’t embarrass her in front of Aunt Beryl and Cousin Bertram and everyone else by saying she was lying.”

  “No, of course not.” Anthony understood Camilla’s reasoning very well. He had dealt with his volatile, scatterbrained mother often enough. “But how did you meet him? Why did you decide to hire him to playact as your fiancé? I never heard of such a thing.”

  “Frankly, I didn’t think of it. That was Mr. Sedgewick’s idea.”

  “Who?”

  “The other man at the inn.” She began to relate the whole story of meeting Benedict and Sedgewick, beginning with their original confrontation on the foggy heath and proceeding through to their agreement in the private room of the Blue Boar. She was careful to leave out some of the details, which she knew would only inflame Anthony’s budding protective instincts. Even so, her story was punctuated by his exclamations of disbelief and dismay.

  When she reached the end of the tale, Anthony let out a groan and laid his head down on his arms on the table. “Camilla! How could you even consider such a thing, much less agree to it? If that isn’t the most harebrained thing I ever heard of! How do you expect to carry it off?”

  “We managed tonight. Tomorrow we will be better prepared. We’ve already discussed it, you see. We can ride around the estate. That will get us out of Aunt Beryl’s clutches, as well as making it seem we want to be in each other’s company. And we can work on all the details of our story. Where is your vaunted sense of adventure? We shall carry it off—if you will help.”

  “Of course I’ll help. It’s just—I don’t trust that chap, Milla. You don’t know a bloody—excuse me—a blessed thing about the man. Where he’s from, what he does for a living. Nothing. It sounds havey-cavey to me.”

  “What does?”

  “The whole thing. Those two men, meeting him out there in the fog, his friend being at the inn. How do you know the whole thing wasn’t planned?”

  “Planned! How could they possibly plan my getting lost and running into him, or my telling them about the lie I made up?”

  “Well, maybe not planned,” he conceded. “But why were they there, that’s what I want to know. Why would a gentleman be hanging about the inn in Edgecombe, I’d like to know. What’s he doing associating with this fellow? And how does it benefit this Sedgewick chap for you to pretend to be married to Benedict?”

  “He did it to be kind, not for benefit.”

  “Yes, but one doesn’t just travel the countryside looking for lost people to befriend, does one?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “I mean, if I had come upon a chit with a story like yours, I might have felt sorry for her, but I wouldn’t have volunteered to be her fiancé.” He sighed, staring thoughtfully at the opposite wall. “I can’t imagine why you agreed to it, either. You must have been bosky. They gave you that rum punch to befuddle your thinking so you would say yes.”

  “I was not drunk!” Camilla snapped, ignoring her own doubts upon the subject earlier. “I cannot believe that you, who have thrown yourself from one foolhardy thing to another your whole life, are taking me to task for doing something impulsive.”

  Anthony gave her an irrepressible grin. “Didn’t you know? I have become quite staid—nothing but studies and books now.”

  Camilla’s suspicions were immediately roused. “What are you into now, you wretched boy?”

  He assumed a wounded air. “Nothing! How can you think I am?”

  “Because I know you,” Camilla retorted.

  Anthony chafed under the restrictions of living at Chevington Park under the watchful eyes of his tutor and the many old family retainers. Their grandfather had not allowed him to go off to school, declaring that he would learn much better here with his tutor, but both Camilla and Anthony knew that his real reason was much simpler: he could not bring himself to let go of his grandson just yet. Because he loved his grandfather, and because the old man’s health had not been good for some years, Anthony had accepted the edict with as much grace as he could. But Camilla knew how much the doting and cosseting of every member of the household wore at Anthony—and how often it led to him throwing off the traces and getting involved in some prank or adventure. It had been quite a while since she heard Aunt Lydia bemoaning Anthony’s latest scrape, which Camilla suspected meant that he was due to get involved in something soon, if he had not already.

  “You needn’t worry about me,” Anthony told her. “Anyway, you are just trying to pull me off the subject. We were discussing your pranks, not mine.”

  “I haven’t pulled any pranks.”

  “Ha! What do you call pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes about that chap down in your room? You know what I think?” He proceeded to inform her, without waiting for a reply. “I think he’s a thief. He and his friend both. That’s why they were so eager for him to play the part of your fiancé. He wanted to get inside Chevington Park and look at all the valuables.”

  “Oh, Anthony, what nonsense! If you had met Mr. Sedgewick, you would realize that. He is obviously a gentleman.”

  Anthony snorted. “Or at least he was able to fool you into thinking he was. You said yourself you thought Benedict was a highwayman at first. What was he doing out there if he wasn’t looking for coaches to rob?”

  “I don’t know. But he didn’t try to take anything from me.”

  “You aren’t wearing any jewelry. It’s obvious that you are a young girl traveling, no doubt from family member to family member, not someone who would be carrying a large amount of cash.”

  Camilla lifted her chin, rather disgruntled by his description of her. “I had money in my reticule.”

  “He wouldn’t know that from looking at you. He doesn’t know you are a woman of independent thinking and her own fortune.”

  Anthony grinned, and Camilla rolled her eyes at his teasing. “He was watching some other people.”

  Anthony’s grin dropped from his fa
ce, and he said cautiously, “Some other people? Who?”

  “I don’t know. But they fired at us. Benedict was quite angry with me because I held up a lantern. I think that is what let them know he was there. He must have been hiding there in the dark, spying on them.”

  Her cousin was silent for a moment, then said, “Why would he be skulking about at night like that unless he was up to no good?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t know what any of them were doing, although it did occur to me that either he or they might be smugglers. You know, being out late at night like that and not carrying any lights.”

  Anthony nodded. “You’re right. But why would he be watching them? Perhaps he thought he could steal from them, but they wouldn’t have money, just brandy and such.” He straightened, enlightenment dawning on his face. “Unless he is from the excise office.”

  “What? You mean, you think he’s trying to catch the smugglers in action?”

  “Why not? They’re always after them. Trying to plant spies, to catch them bringing in the goods.”

  “But if he were doing that, why would he agree to come here and pretend to be my fiancé? It would be a waste of his time.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “But the smugglers don’t live here!”

  “Of course not. But we are close to the shore. It would give him a place to stay, a reason to be here, where he could keep a better watch on things.”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps you’re right.” Camilla could believe Benedict a thief far better than an excise man. Excise men were bureaucrats, men who tallied up numbers for a living, not hard-muscled sorts who could drive a carriage to a hand or knock out a brawny driver with a single blow. Nor could she see Benedict accepting authority well enough to work for the government. He obviously hadn’t the slightest notion of how to take orders.

  “You have to admit, it was damned peculiar the way he pulled that gun on me. I mean, there he was asleep when I came in—and it wasn’t as if I was banging about, either. I was quiet. And then he was up in a flash, that gun in his hand as he rose. Those are not the actions of an ordinary man.”

  Camilla nodded. She, too, had been taken aback by Benedict’s even owning a pistol, much less his ready response with it. “You’re right. Benedict is anything but ordinary.” She sighed. “But, however much you might deplore it, he is in this with me. I cannot confess to Aunt Beryl now.”

  “I should say not!” Anthony looked shocked. “She would run straight to the Earl, no matter how sick he is, and tell him the whole of it. She wouldn’t care if he had another bout of apoplexy because of it. She thinks if she can make Grandpapa angry with you, he will leave money to her brood instead of to you.”

  “Is that why she’s so certain that I am not really engaged? I mean, married?”

  “Yes. She thinks it’s something you made up so that Grandpapa will leave you more money.” He shook his head in disgust. “Addlepated notion. It don’t make any sense. If Grandpapa thought you were married and all set in life, he’d be likely to leave you less money than if he thought you single and all alone in the world.”

  “He’s leaving almost everything to you, anyway. Everyone knows that.”

  “And don’t think Aunt Beryl doesn’t do a slow burn over that. However, even she realizes that there’s nothing she can do about the entail. Still, she’d love to get her hands on the money that isn’t entailed.”

  “Yes, but I’ve heard him say countless times he will leave most of that with the land because you will need it to keep the estate in order.”

  Anthony nodded. “I’m sure he will leave all his grandchildren some amount, but the bulk of it will go with the estate. Still…there’s no reasoning with Aunt Beryl when she’s got the bit between her teeth. So you’re right, we have to keep her from finding out the truth about your Benedict. All the same, I don’t like your having to be around him. Especially in the same room.” He scowled. “It’s madness! What’s to stop him taking advantage of you?”

  “We have already discussed it. He assured me that I was not the sort of woman he was attracted to, anyway.”

  “What? The devil you say! The man has a lot of gall. I’ve a mind to give him a sound thrashing.”

  Looking at her cousin’s slender, youthful frame, Camilla doubted that Anthony had much chance of thrashing Benedict. However, she was tactful enough not to point this out, saying only, “I don’t think that would help our masquerade, Anthony. Benedict is right—if we want to convince Aunt Beryl that he and I are married, we have to stay in the same room. There is no other way. We can’t raise any suspicions, and that includes you attacking Benedict or doing anything else that you would not do if he really were my husband. And it is imperative that we convince her. Otherwise, not only will Grandpapa find out, but my reputation will be in shreds.”

  “I know,” Anthony agreed reluctantly. “But I intend to keep my eye on that chap. If he takes even one step out of line…”

  “He won’t.”

  Fortunately, Anthony had grown up accepting Camilla’s authority, since she was several years older than he, and he made no further protest. Their talk turned to their grandfather and his condition and what had been happening at Chevington Park. By Anthony’s account, absolutely nothing had gone on for months, and not all her questions could pry out anything other than a deadly dull dinner party a few weeks earlier at their cousin Harold’s manse. Her cousin’s lack of complaints made Camilla uneasy. It was unusual for Anthony to put up with such boredom, and she was not sure whether he was not telling her the whole truth or whether he had indeed been enduring the dullness and was now reaching the point where he must break out. She had told her grandfather more than once that he was courting disaster by keeping Anthony so close to home, with only his studies to occupy him. A sedentary tutor was no fit companion for a lively eighteen-year-old boy.

  Finally she gave up on worming any information out of Anthony and bade him good-night. Back in her own room, she found Benedict asleep, and this time he did not leap to his feet, gun in hand. Camilla crawled into bed, expecting another bout with insomnia, but, to her surprise, she fell deeply and almost instantly asleep.

  She did not awaken until the next morning—when Benedict jumped into bed beside her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HIS LEAP WAS A SMOOTH dive over Camilla’s sleeping form and onto the bed beside her. He barely grazed her, but the movement brought her instantly awake.

  “What—” she began furiously, but Benedict wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her to his chest, cutting off her words.

  “Hush!” he whispered against her ear. “The maid.”

  At that instant it registered on Camilla that she could hear a gentle rapping at the door, and now the door creaked as it eased open. Camilla lay still in Benedict’s arms, her eyes tightly closed, as Millie tiptoed into the room and set a tray down on the small table beside the bed. Camilla tried to make her breathing slow and shallow, as if she were asleep, even though every nerve in her body was alive and tingling. She was acutely aware of Benedict’s bare chest against her face, the curling hairs tickling her skin. She had never seen a man’s bare chest before last night, let alone felt it pressed against her. His arms were like iron around her, holding her tightly, lest she make a movement that would give them away. His male scent filled her nostrils; his heat seeped into her body.

  “Miss Camilla. Uh, Mrs. Lassiter,” Millie stage-whispered. When Camilla did not respond, the maid leaned closer to the bed. “Missus, please, wake up.”

  Benedict opened his eyes, his arms loosening around Camilla. Camilla took this as her cue to stir and “awaken,” also.

  “What the devil do you want?” Benedict asked the maid gruffly.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Millie looked pitifully abject. “Truly I am. It’s just that the Earl is up, sir, and he�
�s asking to see you. He’s very eager to see you and Miss Camilla. I mean, the missus.”

  “Oh.” Camilla understood now why the maid had had the audacity to awaken them. She knew her grandfather, and his orders brooked no argument. “Grandpapa ordered you to wake us up and bring us to his room.”

  “Yes’m.” Relief flooded the girl’s plain face at Camilla’s ready understanding. “That’s it. I brought you tea and toast.”

  Camilla nodded. “It’s all right, Millie. We aren’t angry with you.”

  “We aren’t?” Benedict asked sourly.

  Camilla wanted to shoot him a look that was just as sour, but instead, she smiled at him with great sweetness, saying, “Now, dearest, I told you how my grandfather is. Millie isn’t to blame. I am sure he commanded her to awaken us.”

  To her surprise, Benedict smiled back at her, his dark eyes alight with affection. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Of course, my love. Your smile can sweeten even my sour disposition. Forgive me.”

  “Of course.” She tried to act as if she were used to that loving look in his eyes, to his warm, firm lips touching hers. She drew a steadying breath.

  “Shall I iron out a dress for you, ma’am?” Millie asked now, going to the dressing room. “I only hung them up last night. I haven’t pressed them yet.”

  “Yes. Uh, the sprig muslin would be fine.”

  Millie bobbed a quick curtsy and disappeared into the large dressing room. She emerged a moment later with the dress in question and left the room, promising to be back “quick as a wink.”

  When the door closed behind her, Camilla sagged with relief. “Sweet heaven! How did you know she was about to come in?”

  “I am a light sleeper. I heard her rattling about with the tray out in the hall, setting it down so she could knock on the door, and I realized what she was about. Sorry if I startled you.”