by Cara Elliott
Oh, yes, there was much to mull over. And so, on impulse, she had made up the Banbury tale of having been invited to accompany her friend on a visit to the country. Isobel and her aunt were in fact making the day trip, so it was unlikely that she would be caught in the falsehood.
“Thank you,” she repeated, shaking off her musings for the moment.
“You just leave behind any troubles, Miss, and simply enjoy the day,” said Alice cheerily as she took the handbasket from Caro.
“I’m certain that I will.” With freedom beckoning, she shifted her reticule, which was stuffed with books, pencils, and a packet of pastries, anxious to be off. The prospect of escaping to some secluded spot in Sydney Gardens until dusk seemed heavenly. And the fact that Alec was accompanying his sister to the country meant she didn’t have to worry about another unexpected encounter.
“Please remind Mama that I shall not be returning until late this evening,” she added.
Being out alone after dusk was risking her reputation. But Caro was tired of Society’s rules, tired of the polished manners, the sharp-eyed tabbies waiting to claw a lady’s reputation to shreds, the silky innuendos that slithered like a serpent through the world of aristocratic privilege.
She was feeling a little dangerous.
“Don’t fret—I’ll soothe any ruffled feathers.” Her maid smiled. “You deserve a bit of carefree fun. I daresay you must miss the company of your sisters.”
Caro swallowed hard, trying to loosen the sudden constriction that took hold of her throat. “Yes, I do miss them.” I miss their wisdom, their humor, their guidance. “I shall be very glad when they return home to England from their travels.”
But for now, I must rely on my own judgment.
Parting ways with Alice, Caro chose a route through the more out-of-the-way side streets, avoiding the Pulteney Bridge in favor of a less-traveled footbridge over the canal.
For today, she was determined to seize the moment and break free of convention. She desperately needed time and space to sort out her conflicting emotions.
Black and white. Light and dark—the two had somehow blurred and become terribly tangled.
If only she could unravel all the protective layers that Alec McClellan kept wound so tightly around him.
Though she knew Thayer’s hints at his erstwhile friend’s nefarious actions were likely lies, there was a grain of truth to the fact that Alec was keeping some secrets from her.
As to what they were…
Well, speak of the Devil.
Cutting through a narrow passageway between two buildings, she was about to step out from the shadows when she spotted Thayer at the top of the street.
She paused where she was, held in check by a sudden feeling that there was something oddly furtive about his movements. It was a matter of subtle little things—the angle of his body, the tilt of his hat, the way he seemed to hug close to the buildings. But all at once they stirred a prickling sensation at the back of her neck.
Why the stealth if he wasn’t up to no good?
Flattening herself against the dark brick wall, she waited and watched, growing more and more certain with every step that something havey-cavey was afoot.
Sure enough, he turned up a narrow lane that only led to one enclave of residences higher on the hill.
Abandoning her original plan, Caro made the split-second decision to follow him. Perhaps her imagination was running wild, but having given herself permission to break the rules for the day, she might as well throw caution to the wind.
She counted to ten, then slipped from her hiding place and quickly crossed to the lane. Up ahead, Thayer had picked up his pace and after a quick look around he darted into an alleyway that ran along the back garden walls of the elegant townhouses lining the adjoining street.
“I knew it,” whispered Caro as she gathered her skirts and hurried as fast as she dared to catch up.
Thankfully, the area was a quiet residential part of town, and aside from a maid walking two frisky spaniels there was nobody else around. Hoping her luck would hold, she ducked through the narrow opening and took cover among the heavy twines of ivy.
Her heartbeat kicked up a notch as she saw Thayer stop halfway down the alley and begin to fiddle with the lock on the gate.
Which, as she had good reason to know, gave access to the residence rented by Isobel’s aunt.
Ha—she had suspected that this might be Thayer’s destination, and now she was sure of it!
But what was he up to?
Caro thought for a moment. Yes, Isobel had mentioned the trip during a break between dances at last night’s Assembly, so Thayer was aware that the house was empty, save for several servants. With a modicum of caution he could avoid them, assuming his intention was to enter the house.
The gate creaked open, and Thayer shouldered his way through the slivered opening.
Her heart was now hammering against her ribs, each thud a warning that from this point on, the chances of getting caught rose dramatically if she dared to follow him.
“And yet drama is the essence of poetry,” she murmured to herself.
To retreat now would be prudent.
But it wouldn’t be me.
She took a moment to hide her reticule, bonnet, and shawl among the leafy vines, and then crept forward in a low crouch.
In for a penny, in for a pound. She could only hope that there wouldn’t be hell to pay.
“Damnation.” The thump of wet leather hitting stone punctuated the oath as Alec tugged off his muddy boots and dropped them on the scullery floor. His sodden coat followed.
“Damnation,” he repeated, staring balefully at his filthy shirt and breeches. “If I had any brains in my cockloft, I would be lounging in one of the comfortable armchairs of Lord Merton’s study, enjoying a glass of his excellent port.”
Instead, he had sent two burly footmen in his place to accompany his sister and aunt on their visit to the viscount’s country house. His own journey had involved a meeting with his Scottish contact, who had sent urgent word that he had information to pass along.
A remote spot along the River Avon had been designated, one that demanded wading through waist-deep water because the rickety footbridge had given way at first step.
He was still undecided on whether the plunge—and the ruin of his favorite footwear—had been worth it. The news from Scotland had helped cross several names off his list of possible traitors, but as for providing any clue as to why Isobel had been attacked…
He was still in the dark.
Frowning, Alec leaned back against the large copper washtub and spent a moment longer pondering the conundrum as he watched the ooze of mud seep out from his stockings.
A bath, he decided, might help stir his thoughts to greater clarity.
And at least he wouldn’t smell like a swamp.
Alec was about to head up to his rooms when he recalled that the maids had been given a half-day holiday and the footmen were traveling with Isobel and his aunt.
“Hmmph.” A glance back at the copper laundry tub and massive cistern of water made up his mind. It was far easier to bathe here—and it would avoid the sticky problem of how not to track mud over the freshly swept carpets and polished parquet.
The water was unheated, but as he was used to swimming in the frigid Scottish lochs, it felt positively mild as he quickly filled the tub with one of the nearby buckets.
Rummaging around in the large storage cabinet produced a towel, a sponge, and a cake of pine-scented soap. Stripping off his filthy garments, Alec let out a contented sigh as he sunk up to his chin in a swirl of suds. It was rather relaxing to float in such a spacious tub, and he found himself closing his eyes and letting his mind drift off to puzzle over the problem at hand.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been submerged in thought when a soft scuff roused him from his reveries.
His sense now on full alert, Alec held himself still and cocked an ear to listen.
For a
long moment there was nothing.
And then the faint rustle of fabric caught his attention.
Lifting his head ever so slightly, Alec peered over the edge of the tub. The scullery was awash in hide-and-seek shadows, the only light coming from a pair of windows on the far wall. But as he squinted into the gloom, he suddenly could make out a flicker of movement. It was only a vague shape at first, a blur of gray on gray hugging low to the ground as it wove its way past the mops and clothes mangles.
Alec frowned as it came closer and slowly materialized into a the form of a young lady…
What in the name of Hades was Miss Caro Sloane doing, crawling across the scullery floor?
Whatever the answer, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.
Waiting until another slither brought her abreast of his bath, Alec shot out an arm and snagged her by the scruff of her collar.
“Mmmph!” She bit back a strangled yelp.
“Bloody Hell—” he began, only to have her twist free and clamp a hand over his mouth.
“Shhh!” she hissed.
Feeling the tension radiating from her palm, Alec made no further effort to speak but merely raised his brows in silent question.
Caro leaned close—close enough for him to see in her face that this was no silly schoolgirl prank. “Thayer has just entered the house by the back door,” she whispered. “Clearly he is up to no good, but I need to keep moving, and quickly, so I can spy on what is he doing.”
Thayer? Alec grabbed hold of her wrist and lifted her hand from his lips. “How—”
“There’s no time for explanations,” she exclaimed in a rushed whisper, trying to wriggle free of his grasp. “Let me go! We need to know what’s he’s up to.”
“Not we. Me.” Without thinking, Alec shot up out of the water…
Then just as quickly, he dropped to a crouch.
“Damnation. Find me some clothes.”
“There’s no time!” Caro repeated. She picked up the towel and tossed it at his chest. “For God’s sake, don’t be missus. I’ve seen a penis before. Lots of them, in fact.”
For an instant, gentlemanly scruples warred with practicality. But she was right—they couldn’t afford to waste a moment if they wanted to learn what mischief Thayer was intent on wreaking.
Out of the tub he stepped—naked as a newborn. He was taking her at her word that the sight of his pump handle wouldn’t frighten her into a faint.
“Avert your eyes,” Alec muttered as he quickly blotted the dripping water from his limbs and wrapped the towel around his waist.
There was an old adage about girding one’s loins for battle…
A glance showed she was still upright.
“Now, let us go see what game Thayer is playing. Which way was he headed?”
Caro had started to turn away, but at the sight of his lean body emerging from the tub, the chiseled planes and wet muscles glistening wet in the flickering light, she went very still.
It was wicked, it was wanton to let her gaze linger. A proper young lady should be shocked into a swoon.
But swooning would mean missing such a magnificent, masculine sight. Alec was like one of the breathtakingly beautiful marble statues she had seen in Greece of the classical gods—
No, he was better than a sculpted god of perfectly polished stone, for he thrummed with flesh-and-blood life.
An impatient flick of his hand brushing the tangle of damp hair back from his brow broke the momentary spell that held her in thrall. Forcing her eyes away, Caro suddenly realized she hadn’t responded to his question.
“He was creeping down the corridor leading to the main stairs,” she answered.
Alec was already in motion, his bare feet skimming noiselessly over the dark stone tiles. “My guess is that he’ll be looking for my bedchamber or the study.”
Fisting her skirts to keep them as quiet as possible, Caro hurried to catch up. “That makes sense,” she said softly, as he paused to check that the corridor was clear. Spotting a narrow door set discreetly into the dark wood paneling, she asked, “Wouldn’t it be better if we take the servant stairs?”
He shook his head. “The risk of an unwanted encounter is greater than if we chance the main stairs.”
Taking her hand, he darted across the foyer and started up the carpeted treads. “The maids have been given the day off, but if we’re spotted by the housekeeper, we’ll just have to brazen it out.”
Brazen. A behavior that seemed to come naturally to her.
Caro kept her eyes averted from his bare chest and the intriguing golden curls glinting against his sun-bronzed skin. “As you know well, sir, that won’t present any problem for me.”
A hint of a smile quirked at the left corner of his mouth, softening the hard-edged planes of his face.
Her heart, which was still thumping hard against her ribs, ratcheted up another notch.
“For which I am profoundly grateful,” he replied. “We don’t want to kick up a dust that might alert Thayer to our presence.”
As they came to the top of the landing, Alec pressed a finger to his lips indicating no more talking. Crouching low, he peered through the balusters, and after studying the three arched entryways for a long moment, he indicated the one on the left.
Caro knew from earlier visits with Isobel that through it lay his set of rooms.
A stillness hung heavy in the corridor. She felt a shiver skate down her spine as she tiptoed through the shadows. Alec was moving slowly, slowly… and then suddenly came to a stop.
Peeking over his shoulder, she saw it too—a small sliver of light on the Oriental runner indicating that one of the doors was slightly ajar.
A warning touch reminded her of the need for absolute silence.
She held her breath, hoping it might help control her pounding heart. Each beat seemed to be echoing loud as cannonfire off the walls.
Alec inched forward.
Caro followed.
Through the gap between the molding and the door, she caught sight of Thayer hunched over the desk in the sitting room. He had the bottom drawer open, and after rummaging through the contents, he took a small sack from his coat pocket and stashed it inside.
Whatever he did next was lost in a blur as Alec quickly retreated, pulling her along with him. Easing open the door of the adjoining suite, he hustled her inside and drew it shut.
A few moments later, she heard a latch click and hurried footsteps rush past their hiding place.
“What do you think that was all about?” she whispered, once the sounds had faded away.
“We shall soon see,” replied Alec. He waited a few more moments before leading the way back to his own rooms and kneeling down by the desk.
The sack had been shoved to the back of the drawer and covered with several ledgers. After fishing it free, he untied the cords and shook out the contents onto the blotter.
“Ye gods.” Caro’s eyes widened at the flashes of gold glittering against the dark leather.
“Ye gods, indeed,” said Alec through his teeth. He picked up the object and subjected it to a careful examination.
“Have you any idea—” she began.
“Yes,” he said curtly. “Having just yesterday accompanied Isobel and my aunt to the Antiquities Museum, I recognize it as the Hadrian Eagle, a very rare and very valuable ancient artifact from the days of the Roman occupation of Britain. It is—or rather, it was—the most important item they had on display there.”
“But why?” she mused.
“Oh, come, Miss Caro. Surely you’ve read enough novels to follow the plot.”
“Yes, yes, it’s clear he wants to frame you for its theft.” She frowned. “But again I ask why?”
“Pure malice is one reason,” responded Alec. “Thayer is a thoroughly dirty dish. As for the other reason, I have not yet put together all the pieces of the puzzle.”
“But you think it has something to do with the attack on Isobel and me,” she asked.
He nodded. “I suspect so, but have not yet discovered his motive. There is trouble in Scotland, however—”
A loud metallic rap on the front door reverberated through the whole house, followed in rapidfire succession by several more.
“The dastard didn’t waste any time,” growled Alec. “I assume that will be the magistrate.”
“Well don’t just stand there!” Caro snatched the eagle from his hands and thrust it back in the sack. “We have to hide it!”
“And you.” He glanced at the door. “There’s no time to reach the back stairs.”
Rap, rap.
“Damnation.” Alec grabbed her arm. “Come with me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Scandal. Ruin.
Alec felt the sharp taste of bile rise in his throat. It was all because of him that Caro had been drawn into danger.
She had taken a terrible risk in following Thayer. He could not—would not—let her be destroyed because of her own intrepid sense of courage and loyalty.
Though why she had felt beholden to come to his aid was a mystery. He had been nothing but rude and snarly…
“A-are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Caro, as he pulled her into his bedchamber.
“It’s a bloody awful idea, but I can’t see that we have any other alternative,” he replied, marching her past the ornately carved four-poster bed and into the small adjoining dressing room. “It’s the only chance we have of dodging disaster.”
She edged around a rack of boot brushes and bottles of polish. “You don’t think it will occur to the authorities to search in here? It seems an obvious hiding place.”
“Of course they will look in here.” Alec set to shifting a stack of trunks and bandboxes. “But with luck, they won’t find you.”
“Lord Strathcona…”
A last heave cleared a space near the right corner of the back wall, revealing the faint outline of a small door, only three feet high, set in the wainscoting. “It’s a storage nook,” he explained. “It’s lined in cedarwood, so it must have been used to keep woolens.”
He saw her stiffen.
“It’s dark in there.”
“So take a nap,” he replied. “You’ll find a blanket. Granted, it’s a bit cramped—”
