The Poor Relation (18 page)

The remainder of the afternoon Chloe used to take special pains preparing her toilette for the grand evening.  She chose the ball gown Lady Milbanke had given her on her last birt
hday made by a French modiste.  A luscious cream chiffon, it had a low, square cut bodice and tiny puff sleeves, all trimmed with gold ribbons.  While the baroness slept off the effects of her earlier libation, Hannah offered to arrange Chloe’s honey-gold locks in a thick knot with a gold braid laced through it.  Her mother’s single strand of pearls graced her slender neck with matching pearl drops dangling from her ears.  The image of the slender young woman in the cheval glass, dressed in the first stare of fashion with shining tresses crowning huge hazel eyes sparkling with anticipation, gave Chloe confidence.

At the close of the afternoon, she and Hannah joined forces to rouse the baroness to get her dressed.  After giving her a tisane for her headache, the women finally had
Lady Milbanke decked out in a flowing dark rose silk gown.  Her wispy gray hair was tucked under a turban of the same material, adorned with two white plumes and a diamond pin.  She was further bejeweled with diamonds at her throat, wrists, and rings on several fingers.

Since Lady Sophia had slept a good part of the day, Chloe hoped the baroness’s behavior would be unexceptional.  Of course, that would hinge partly on Sir Albert, who had prearranged the seating
at dinner so he could be seated next to her incorrigible aunt.  His intention was to monitor his dear lady friend’s intake of wine so that she wouldn’t have shot the cat before the ball began.

Feeling very grand, Chloe held Lady Sophia’s arm and together they descended to the drawing room
.  Almost everyone had assembled to mingle with neighbors who had also been invited to dinner.  Chloe’s excitement was such that even Mrs. Palmer’s dazzling attire couldn’t dampen her sprits.

The widow was dressed in a pale pink gown that clung provocatively to her supple curves.  Where the slinky silk gown didn’t cling, it dipped, exposing an incredible amount of bosom.  Though stunning, her fragile beauty was marred by her frowning countenance, no doubt due to the notable absence of the Viscount.  He, along with Leslie Pearson, did not appear until minutes before dinner was announced.  Chloe also
was relieved that there was no sign of Pierre Guyot.

Camden slip
ped in barely ahead of the other late comers.  Chloe noticed he looked somewhat pulled with dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise she detected no other symptoms that he suffered from a gun shot wound.  Indeed, he was extremely handsome in black formal dress with a white satin waistcoat.  He wore the points of his collar slightly higher than usual, though far from the height ascribed to as fashionable by those members of the dandy set.  In his snowy white cravat, the emerald stick pin shot green sparks as it refracted the candle light.  His eyes scanned the room until he located Chloe seated with her aunt and Lady Reaves.  He gave her a briefest of nods before he turned to the stunning Mrs. Palmer.

Moments later, Pearson arrived, resplendent in periwinkle pantaloons, a mauve satin jacket and silver embroidered waistcoat.  He anxiously looked around and then joined Lady Sarah and Sir Clarence.  Still, his eyes darted about the room as though he was wa
iting for something.

Chloe suspected there was some significance to these late arrivals, yet she felt a terrible let down.  Staring sightlessly at her clinched hands, she hung her head and mentally castigated herself for expecting anything more than a c
asual greeting from Camden.  His continual preference for the widow’s company deeply hurt, and it was with great effort that she gathered her composure once more, determined to get caught up in the gaiety that prevailed the crowded room and forget about the boorish brute.  Unfortunately, Judith’s high tinkling laugh rang out periodically, an audible reminder that the Viscount enjoyed consorting with the beautiful widow and compounding her heartache.

When the Marquis and his Marchioness grandly led the way into dinner, Chloe dutifully trouped out of the drawing room behind her aunt and Sir Albert
.  She plastered a smile on her face, only to be startled by Pierre Guyot who made his belated entrance through the outside terrace door.

Appearing slightly winded, he
sidled up to Chloe, latching on to her arm, and greeted her with inane pleasantries as he led her into the dining room.  Seeing her seated, then taking the chair beside her, he remained quiet throughout the first remove.  But after a footman ladled lobster bisque from a tureen carried on a silver tray by another servant, he targeted Chloe for another one of his inquisitions, much to the determent of her already frayed nerves.  This time, he pelted her with questions about how she’d spent her day, in particular, the morning hours.

“No one saw you this morning?”

“I did not go riding with the others,” answered Chloe, disinclined to be communicative.

“
Non
?”

“No.”

“You remained closeted with your
tante
in her room,
oui
?”

“Actually, I had planned to, but things did not work out that way.”

“Ahhh . . . .”  He remained quiet until a roasted quail smothered in a delectable orange sauce rested on the Sevres plate in front of him.  “And where did you say you went this morning?”

“I did not say, monsieur.”

“You went out,
oui
?”

“No, I stayed in the house.”

“All morning?”  With suspicious intensity, his deep-set brown eyes studied her expression, and Chloe began to understand how important it was for him to know where she had been.  That there existed a way to torment the obnoxious Frenchman greatly appealed to her.  Thus, she decided he’d have to apply thumb screws to her first before she’d divulge a single shred of information.  Inwardly laughing to herself, she gave him an enigmatic smile yet remained silent, goading Guyot into gnashing his teeth in frustration.

Guyot said little else, which suited her mood perfectly since his reticent anger allowed her to ponder her own problem—
the Viscount Camden. 

Judith Palmer had said she had an understanding with
Camden.  And if Chloe believed her eyes, she’d accept the widow’s word as true.  While Camden’s dark blue gaze often settled on Chloe, when he entered a room, he always went to Judith’s side.  Yet, Chloe foolishly responded every time he showed her even the slightest courtesy.

Though
Chloe knew better, she’d let her heart rule over her head.  No more, she promised herself.  She would stop acting like a schoolroom miss with a crush and instead heed what her eyes told her. It was obvious that the Viscount was dallying with her.

At the end of the meal, it was mutually agreed that the gentlemen would take their port with the ladies, allowing the servants to remove the covers and reset the table for the late night buffet.  Though the Frenchman was on Chloe’s heels when they left the dinning room, he was no where to be seen once she’d settled on a settee in the drawing room.

As more guests for the ball began arriving, her eyes wandered about the elongated room.  Try as she might, she could not stop herself from seeking out Camden.  At last she espied him and his beautiful paramour, standing in a small window enclosure and was amazed to witness Judith Palmer practically bear-jawing the Viscount who appeared unfazed, wearing his habitual mask of ennui.  Chloe sighed inwardly.  No matter how much it hurt, she had to accept the proof she saw of their understanding.

***  Chapter 16  ***

In actuality, Camden was seething inside, wishing the blond beauty to perdition.  With any luck, he mentally
deduced, this entire affair would be played out by the end of the night.  Thankfully, that also meant it would be the last he’d have to see of this annoying woman.  He had not gone riding with the Marquis and the others that morning, opting instead to sleep late and give his shoulder a rest.  Throughout the afternoon, he’d deliberately avoided Judith’s company, hoping to provide Pearson ample time to swap the jewels for the packet of marked currency Judith had in her possession.

He managed to outmaneuver her at dinner, sitting across from her with Lady Sarah.  That had been no mean feat, either, the way she hung on to him.  Hence, this was the first opportunity she’d had to have a private word with him, dragging him to the window, setting them somewhat apart from the rest of the guests.  He was regretting ever having taken up with the foolish female as she harped on
about his late appearance for dinner.

“Where have you been, Oliver?  I looked for you half the day.”

He raised one dark eyebrow to forestall any further questions.  “I take it your afternoon proved successful?” he drawled.

“Yes, t
he jewels are in my possession, which you would know if you had not vanished today,” snapped Judith angrily as she crossed her arms underneath her breast. The gesture raised her generous bosom, enough so that more of her creamy breasts were exposed.

While this once would have encouraged Camden to eye the bare flesh with amorous designs, he found her actions wan
ton, especially when compared to the more subtle and enticing charms of Chloe Woodforde.  But he would do better keeping his mind on the matter at hand.  “Did Pearson balk over the packet of bills?”

“He hardly looked at them, though he was far from pleased,” she said.  “He kept repeating how he’d made it plain as pikestaff that he wanted payment in sovereigns as part of the deal.  Still, he was easier to handle than that annoying Guyot.  That rodent was forever hanging about my skirts after lunch.  I had the devil of a time shaking him.
”  She gave Camden an expectant look.  When he did not react or appear jealous, she asked, “Do you suppose Guyot suspects something or wanted the jewels himself?”

If she thought Camden would enlighten her about what was afoot, she was doomed for more disappointment.  “That’s not likely,” he said
and scanned the room trying to locate the émigré, who had disappeared again.  “You’ve performed admirably, Judith.  I believe that diamond broach can be justifiably included as part of your reward.”

She gave him a radiant smile before coquettishly lowering her long lashes.  “What about you, Oliver?  Have I perhaps earned a small place in your heart?”

“I hate to disillusion you, my dear, but I have no heart.  As I stated at the onset, this whole affair has been nothing more than a business transaction, though a very delightful one, to be sure,” he said, softening his dismissal with a smile.

Her eyes flew open, revealing her hurt and anger. “I suppose you deem the diamond pin as payment in full.  Well, I am not some whore,” she spat at him
.  Her eyes slid over to where Miss Woodforde sat on the settee with her aunt.  “You think I am unaware of your, ah, liaison with the prim and proper Miss Woodforde, my lord?  Well, my own eyes have seen the little hussy coming from your bedroom as well as you entering hers in the middle of the night.  Such behavior from the baroness’s companion would never be tolerated by the
ton
.”

“Have a care, Judith,” growled Camden under his breath.
“I’m already aware of your tongue wagging.”

“Why?” asked Judith saucily, still watching Chloe.  “You have given me your
conge
.”

“You’ll say
no more about what you saw, my dear Mrs. Palmer, not if you value your own place in the
ton
,” he drawled in a dangerous tone.

She g
lanced up at him but said no more, but neither did she put on a polite face.  

Which was just as well, for
Camden had had enough.  “Funny, Judith, in all the time I’ve known you, I never took you to be stupid.” Then he turned on his heel and quit the room. 

He was livid, and while heading for the back salon intending to slip out the French windows, he contemplated his
anger.  Judith was still a young woman and, he admitted, her circumstances demanded she marry well.  But she had been foolish beyond belief if she’d truly thought to ensnare him, using this assignment and the cover of a respectable house party.  In truth, he did not actually begrudge her blowing off some steam over his callous use of her.  What he could not countenance was her vile attack on Chloe Woodforde’s character.

Chloe
’s large hazel eyes were forever on his mind, not to mention the memory of her soft curves when he’d carried her that night after finding her unconscious in the woods.  And heaven help him, every time thereafter when he’d gotten the chance to caress her lovely body. He felt such a need for her, yet it wasn’t all physical.  Somehow, she filled an emotional void in him.  And, he laughed incredulously to himself, she’d managed to resurrect his conscience.

There was little time to reflect on this, however.  He soon reached the edge of the woods where Raikes stepped out from behind a large tree trunk, directly in his path.

“Things ain’t gone right, Gov.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The Frenchy snuck away after dinner.  I tracked him to an old game keeper’s hut.  I figured he meant to meet up with that giant blackguard.  He met him, all right,” said the wiry agent, giving the nobleman a meaningful look.  “Weren’t ten minutes and out come that knave, but no Guyot.  I waited a bit before checking the cabin. Found the little Frog dead--knifed through the heart.”