The Poor Relation (6 page)

The picnickers were late returning to the Court, and this unfortunately resulted in Lady Milbanke missing her nap.  Along with Sir Albert, Chloe helped
the baroness climb the sloping lawn and, once inside the house, navigate the treacherous stairs.  Only by making a great fuss over Lady Sophia’s toilette for dinner were Chloe and Hannah able to keep the already tipsy dowager from indulging in her usual afternoon tea, which the old gal invariably laced heavily with whiskey.

Little time was left for Chloe to dress, but with Hannah’s assistance, she accomplished a lovely toilette, comprised of a mauve satin gown with tiers of ecru lace trimming the sleeves and neckline.  Both wom
en feared leaving Lady Milbanke to her own devices for too long, so Hannah simply swept Chloe’s honey-gold tresses back into a loose chignon, pulling a few curls forward to frame her face and soften the coiffeur’s austerity.  The effect was stunning when pearl ear drops were added along with a matching single strand of beads about her throat.  But scrutinizing her attire in a cheval mirror, Chloe considered how unadorned her costume was when compared to the more elaborate toilettes and gowns of the other women. 

During
dinner Camden all but snubbed her, and Chloe suspected his disregard might partly be due to the plainness of her appearance.  He never strayed from Mrs. Palmer’s side and only once glanced her way to give her the briefest of nods.

And little wonder, thought Chloe.  Any man would be attractive to the widow’s obvio
us charms, daringly outlined in a cream silk gown that hugged her curvaceous figure.  Large rubies dangled from her ear lobes, and a diamond and ruby necklace drew the eyes to her abundant cleavage.  Those rose bud lips and delicately flushed cheeks were no doubt from the artfully applied contents of a rouge pot, yet the effect enhanced the sultry beauty of the young widow.

Lady Sophia
took one look at the voluptuous beauty when they entered the drawing room and exploded, “Tsk, look at that expensive hussy!”

“Hush, Aunt Sophia,” Chloe whispered.  “Someone will hear you.”

“Makes no difference if they do.” Disgustedly, the old gal tossed her cashmere shawl over one shoulder.  “Baggage is baggage, no matter how well dressed one is.”

Th
ough elaborate, the meal was a quiet affair, except for Judith Palmer, who was particularly chatty with Leslie Pearson who sat on Chloe’s right.  But since Sir Albert also partnered her and she never tired of his cheery disposition, Chloe quite enjoyed the dinner.

Afterwards, Chloe found her company sought by
Monsieur Guyot.  Although his manner was courteous, he exhibited a coolness in his address that had not been evident at lunch.  He stuck to the most innocuous topics, causing her to wonder why he had bothered to single her out.  And strangely, she’d twice caught the Viscount scowling at her while the Frenchman paid her court.

Since she’d forgone her nap, Lady Milbanke w
as not faring well, especially after she’d consumed several glasses of vintage wine at dinner.  As the evening progressed, she became quarrelsome, and consequently, Chloe had her hands full until Lady Sophia agreed to retire early.  Still, besides being unsteady on her feet, the dowager was hardly cooperative.  When Chloe staggered slightly after struggling to get her aunt out of a chair, Sir Albert quickly came to her rescue by taking most of the burden of Lady Sophia’s weight.  Together, they walked the intoxicated dowager up the long stairway.

“Thank you, Sir Albert,” Chloe said, heaving a sigh of relief once they’d reached Lady Milbanke’s bedchamber.

“Any time, my dear, you need only ask,” he replied before directing a reproving gaze on his lady friend.  “As for you, Sophia, be a good gel and don’t hassle your niece or your henchwoman tonight.”

“Off with you, Morley,” Lady Sophia re
buffed him, her speech markedly slurred.  “I’ve no patience with the lot of you. ‘Tis all that dratted fresh air today that’s made me ill.”

Stumbling into the room with Chloe right on her heels, Lady Sophia made a grand gesture to slam the door in the old gentleman’s face. 

Unperturbed, Sir Albert reached out one hand, grabbed the door knob, and closed the door gently.  As he ambled down the hall, the ladies heard his indulgent chuckle.

In a glance, Hannah, dutifully waiting for
her mistress, assessed Lady Milbanke’s condition and rolled her eyes expressively.  Between both women, it took considerable effort to ready the contrary dowager for bed.  She insisted on arguing over every little thing either Chloe or Hannah did.

Where is Lady Caro’s leash?” asked Chloe when at last they’d gotten her aunt tucked under the coverlet.

“You can’t be thinking of taking that animal out now?” Hannah said.

“Don’t be a booby!  Of course she ain’t,” bellowed Lady Sophia, piercing the two of them with a jaundice
d eye.  In the next moment she sat up straight and commanded both women to be quiet or get out of her room.

“She had quite a lot to drink today and should go right to sleep,” Chloe whispered to Hannah.  “You
had better stay with her for awhile in case she does become ill.  But it is too early for me to retire.”  She held up a hand when the abigail made to protest.  “Please, Hannah, Lady Caro is more than adequate protection for me on the estate grounds.  The most dreadful thing that could happen is that a raccoon might accost me.  And before that could happen, Lady Caro would warn it away.”

With a disapproving grimace,
Hannah handed over the leash, admonishing Chloe over and over to be careful and remain close to the house.

***  Chapter 5 ***

Outside the wind had shif
ted, whipping up a brisk breeze.  The moon was still bright, however, and its glow ably penetrated through the thick foliage of the woods, lighting patches of the forest floor.  In his black evening clothes, the Viscount’s large physique melded with the gloomy outline of the old oak he leaned against.  His quick eye caught Raikes’s stealthy movements.  He never actually heard the wiry agent advance toward him, much like one of the nocturnal creatures of the woods.

“Anything new to report?” asked Camden, stepping out from under the shadow of the huge tree.

“There’s some happenings, Gov.  The locals, they’ve been talking of a stranger going about the hedge taverns.  He asked directions to Clairmont Court and the prospects of getting work there.  Ain’t so unusual, being that the Marquis’s got house guests, only they say this one sounds like a Frog.”  Raikes turned his head and spat at the tree roots.  “Anything at the house?”

“Someone was watching
it last night.”

“Now that’s right interesting.  Know what for?”

“Unfortunately, I had to rescue a damsel walking her blasted dog.  So happens he was gone by the time I could get loose.  He could be the contact.”

“I’ll keep me peepers open.  Be good advi
ce for you too, Gov.  Heard this cove ain’t your regular type.  They say he’s a bruiser.  Wouldn’t do to go a round with him.”

“Already have,” answered Camden, unnettled. “
He’s big and mean, all right.  Fellow’s also plagued with a glass jaw.”

“You’ve always been hand
y with your fives,” Raikes chuckled appreciatively over this bit of information.  “Same time tomorrow night, Gov?”

“Yes, if that blasted
widow will quit pawing me long enough so I can get loose,” replied Camden.  They soon parted, each quietly blending into the mobile shadows of the forest.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Chloe had unfastened the leash from Lady Caro’s collar, and together, she and the terrier roamed around the edge of the gardens where the open park began.  This far from the huge house, the peacefulness of the setting and the quiet murmurs of the night were hypnotic, and Chloe drifted away from the gardens as her mind also meandered.  She was used to being snubbed by society matrons, but the Viscount’s cruel rebuff, coming after she’d trustingly exposed her history to him at the alfresco lunch, upset her more than she cared to admit.  Instead, she tried concentrating on the soothing night noises which acted like a balm to her frayed nerves.

When a rabbit suddenly streaked across the lawn and dashed into the shelter of the woods, Lady Caro, who up until then had faithfully remained by Chloe, met the unexpected challenge.  Setting up a bark, the Yorky bounded after it with a determination that took Chloe by surprise.  The little dog was out of
sight within seconds.  Fearing the terrier would get lost, she picked up her skirts to give chase.

Once under the canopy of the trees,
the moon’s brightness did not filter through very well.  As she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, an eerie feeling overtook her, a sense of danger.  She shrugged it off, however, over her concern for the silly lap dog.

Going
farther along a narrow and winding path, Lady Caro’s barks became muffled, and Chloe had difficulty tracking the sounds.  She hadn’t realized how far she’d ventured into the woods until the barking ceased.  As the dense shadows closed in around her, she realized she had become completely turned around and had no idea in which direction to go to return to the house.

Trying to retrace her steps, she came upon a small clearing covered by low
, prickly bushes that she had passed once before. Finally, she admitted to herself that she was truly lost.  Backtracking again, she came across what appeared to be a bridle path and followed it for several yards before her attention was caught by a small round object sparkling iridescently in the moonlight where it laid in the middle of the trail.  Glancing all around, she neither saw nor heard any one or thing and so reached down do pick up the bright orb, then gasped.  In her hand lay an exquisite pin, a large sunburst of diamonds that doubtlessly was worth a small fortune.

Suddenly, a twig snap
ped behind her.  Instinctively, Chloe knew imminent danger was at hand.  Before she could react, a crushing blow to the back of her head paralyzed her with mind numbing pain, and an oppressive ebony haze swallowed her.

~~~~~

Delaying his return to the drawing room and Judith Palmer, the Viscount deliberately dawdled about in the woods.  The widow’s possessive attitude was becoming tiresome, to say the least.  Good thing he’d left Gibbons, his valet, in London.  Otherwise, he’d have to listen to the meticulous worthy lament the number of coat sleeves the woman had mutilated.  

Aside from Judith
, he found himself too preoccupied with the attractive Miss Woodforde.  Tonight he’d found the low décolletage of her gown very distracting and had been irrationally annoyed when Guyot had singled her out and wondered at the Frenchman’s motive.  He decided to keep an eye on the insidious émigré, and should Guyot continue to show an interest in the young woman, he’d warn her off before any harm could come of it.

He
slowly started working his way back to the house when the unmistakable yapping of the Yorkshire terrier assaulted his ears.  He swore fluently under his breath, for it could mean only one thing.  With the chance that the mysterious stranger might be lurking about, these woods could prove treacherous for the pretty lady.

He had no trouble discerning the direction of the yapping and struck out to find the silly animal and its mistress.  When the barks ceased, he slowed his pace, expecting to hear Miss Woodforde’s clear voice calling the little mutt.

Something was amiss.  He wasn’t sure what alerted him, but the woods were too quiet.  He was suddenly concerned for the young woman’s safety.  The path he’d been on crossed a wide bridle trail, and he stopped to debate if he should follow it when a little bluish black and tan ball of fur ran up to him, only to skitter away down the trail.  Hurrying after the scampering furry mop, he rounded a bend, then froze in his tracks.

For the first time in his misspent life, his heart was in his throat.  Years of training, however, forced him to listen and expectantly wait for any movement.  Once sure no one was
about, he rushed to the frightening inert form of Chloe Woodforde, lying in the middle of the trail.

~~~~~ 

With irritating insistence, something rough and wet kept licking Chloe’s face.  But a black velvety fog still enveloped her mind, making her unable to respond.  Finally, the Viscount’s gruff growl finally penetrated her consciousness.

“Get out of the way, mutt.”

Strong hands stroked first her limbs, then skimmed lightly over her torso before tenderly probing about her neck and head.  When those gentle fingers made contact with the back of her skull, pain exploded in her head and she winced, expelling a soft moan.  Arms of steel went around her back and under her knees and lifted, then cradled her against a broad hard chest.  Intuitively, she knew she was safe.  No further harm would come to her.

She tried to open her eyes.  But this proved painful as well, so she remained quiet, secure in the safety of his arms.  When she finally succeeded in peeping through heavy eyelashes, she realized for the first time that he was carrying her and began to struggle.

“Easy, rest easy, Chloe,” he whispered, resting his head on the top of hers for a moment.

“I
can walk,” she answered weakly, surprised at the effort it cost her to talk.  “Put me down . . . I can walk.”