The Poor Relation (9 page)

“What an unholy hour, Edwina,” grumbled Lady Sophia.  “Only barbarians are likely to be up and about.  And now I got my niece behind me prodding my backside as if I were a dairy cow.”

“Come, come, my dear,” said Sir Albert, offering his arm to help the elderly baroness up the carriage steps.  “Ain’t as bad as all that.”

“Oh pooh!” scoffed Lady Sophia.  “You’re no better, Morley, trying to rush me to my grave.”

Her old friend accepted these aspersions with a chuckle and a shake of his gray head while seeing that the ladies were well situated.  Lady Agatha Howard and Mrs. Palmer climbed into another carriage with the Marchioness and her daughter while the other gentlemen rode their mounts.

The Vi
scount was nowhere in sight, however, apparently having elected not to make up one of the cavalcade though he’d offered no explanation to his host.  Also conspicuously absent from the group was Leslie Pearson who, they were informed, had ridden out earlier that morning to attend an urgent matter of business. 

Mrs. Palmer did little to conceal her vexation over the Viscount’s defections and, without her beau, appeared unable to mix comfortably with the other ladies. But she soon found solace in directing her charms toward Monsieur Guyot
and flirted outrageously with the Frenchman as he rode beside the landau.

As the sun rose higher, so did everyone’s spirits.  The thriving Kent countryside offered myriad sights of q
uaint hamlets and prosperous farms scattered among woodlands of strong oaks, beeches and chestnuts.  Alongside hop gardens, oast houses dotted the landscape.  These cone-shaped, brick structures with their distinctive white cowl tops were actually huge kilns used to dry the hops.

Even traveling at a leisurely pace, the sightseers reached their destination
by noon.  Located not many miles from Clairmont Court, Tenterden was a bustling town of considerable size.  The unusually wide main street, once an ancient market place of the early Anglo-Saxons crowded with stalls and cattle pens, offered wide green verges with brick houses set back on each side while side streets were lined with shops.

At the Hare and Stag, a p
rivate parlor and several guest rooms had been reserved for their comfort.  The Marquis’s party refreshed themselves with cool ales and ciders before lunching on prawns and avocado salad, roast lamb, pheasant casserole with apricot stuffing and raspberries and clotted cream.  Afterwards, when the gentlemen hied off to parts unknown, the women strolled along the main street, giving their patronage to the modest shops.

Chloe was more than content to browse the millinery and sweet shops and
wander down the narrow lanes, seeking scarves, ribbons and other flippery.  She purchased a light weight woolen shawl, refused a bonnet with an exceptionally broad poke Lady Sophia tried to press on her and found ribbons to refurbish one of her gowns.

Toward the end of the afternoon, Chloe was surprised when Mrs. Palmer chose to walk beside her, chatting airily about the sights of the ancient town. 
The widow looked exceedingly pretty dressed in a blue and white striped gown with her blond curls tucked under a wide brimmed bonnet.  When the other ladies dashed inside a linen shop, Judith laid one dainty, kid gloved hand on Chloe’s arm to stay her from entering the shop. 

C
losely regarding Chloe through artful blue eyes, Mrs. Palmer said, “I was sorry to hear you were indisposed yesterday, Miss Woodforde.  Of course, when you keep such late hours, it is bound to affect your health.”

“I beg your pardon?”
Chloe asked innocently.

“Oh, you need not worry.  Your little secret is quite safe with me
.” The widow’s gaze was more spiteful than friendly. “If I had not heard a noise, I would not have seen Oliver entering your room, carrying two glasses and a wine decanter.  I do feel the need to caution you, however.”  She flashed Chloe a knowing look.  “For all his endearing qualities, dear Oliver is quite without scruples.  He will deny ever being there, if anyone were to ask him, that is.  Even if he were actually caught red handed in a compromising situation, Oliver would simply walk away, uncaring of the social scandal either to you or himself.  And really, you must not lose sight of the fact that you are nothing more than a companion.  He’d hardly choose someone of your station in life to be his viscountess.” She laughed lightly, then eyed Chloe from under long black lashes.  “I am much more in his style, if you will excuse me for being so blunt.  Anyway, you should know that Oliver and I have reached an understanding.”

Chloe
felt numb, her mind reeling with Mrs. Palmer’s revelations.  Any other time, the woman’s candidness and innuendoes would have Chloe blushing, but the unexpected admission of an agreement between Viscount Camden and the widow had the adverse effect and left her speechless. 

Fortunately, she was spared a response as both Pierre
Guyot and Leslie Pearson approached them.  After greetings were exchanged, Mrs. Palmer asked, “Mr. Pearson, seeing you here, I assume you have successfully concluded your business?”

Pearson leveled Mrs. Palmer with an invidious look.
  “So it would seem,” he said, offering her his arm.  “However, I believe it is time we meet up with the others?” Not waiting for a reply, he led the widow toward the Hare and Stag.

Chloe was forced to accept the Frenchman’s company.  If he suspected her reluctance, he hid it well, plying his silky manners, asking her a few questions about her purchases. 
But his tone soon changed as he quizzed her on her nocturnal ramblings.

“
You go out often with
la petit chien, non
?”

“Yes, for in the city I am unable to take Lacy Caro out for long walks,” Chloe answered, slowing her pace as the Frenchman took her arm and slackened his.

“You are
energuque
, er, full of energy.”  When she made no reply, he asked, “And do you ever see others?”

“Others?” she parroted innocently.

“
Oui
, one of the guests?” 

The look that accompanied
his remark displayed more than idle curiosity. Chloe was instantly suspicious and decided to impart as little as possible.  For an answer, she shrugged a shoulder.

But Guyot would have none of it.  “The darkness covers many things,
oui
?  It is a way to meet someone without others knowing.  A lover, perhaps?” he asked wilily, leaning into her.

They had
reached the front yard of the inn, the last to arrive.  Chloe, deigning not to reply, broke away from the despicable Frenchman and walked over to the carriages where she encountered the scowling countenance of Viscount Camden.  He sat on the black stallion, one booted leg thrown across the saddle. It seemed odd to Chloe that the huge beast was so tractable, especially hearing his lordship’s description of the horse’s vile temperament the other morning.  Of course, the Viscount may have been exaggerating . . . Or was it possible that the horse had had the very devil ridden out of him?

Chloe read the displeasure in Camden’s dark eyes and wondered what she’d done to incur his wrath.  She was confused by his tenderness last night, then Mrs. Palmer’s revelations today, and now his apparent anger.  He continued to stare at her until she felt a burning blush heat her face.  Then he gave her a brief nod and turned his attention back to Guyot. 

Around her, the other men appeared excessively jovial, discussing the merits of a nearby cockfight, which the majority of them had attended and been fortunate enough to come away winners.  Preparing to leave, the ladies and Sir Albert got into the carriages, all eager to describe their new finery on the ride back to the Court.

Though the afternoon had gotten progressively warmer, a chill had seeped into Chloe’s bones that she couldn’t dispel.  Still suffering from the shock of Judith Palmer’s pronouncement, she sat docilely, soaking up the warm rays of the sun.  The older occupants of the carriage were otherwise inclined to offer disparaging comments on the heat.  Always one to take advantage
of a situation, Lady Sophia used the weather as an excuse to frequently produce her flask, claiming the need to quench her parched throat.  With Chloe distracted by her troubled thoughts, the dowager played a deaf ear to Edwina Reaves’s horrified exclamations and Sir Albert’s indulgent chuckles and managed to tipple the silver flask dry.

It was late afternoon by the time the party reached the Court.  Chloe turned her aunt over to Hannah’s ministrations as she barely had time herself to dress for dinner.  That affair would have been a tedious ordeal for Chloe if it were not for Sir Albert.  Having imbibed most of the afternoon, Lady Sophia was deep in her cups, and
Chloe was far from being up to the task of keeping the baroness from disgracing herself, muttering outlandish comments to unsuspecting guests, colliding with the furniture, or worst.  Chloe was finding that she’d overextended herself too soon after having sustained a concussion.  And that coupled with the shock of Mrs. Palmer’s unsettling disclosures, it was inevitable that she was beset with a migraine.

The ever faithful Sir Albert, however, determined Chloe’s plight early in the evening and took it upon himself to remain by Lady Sophia throughout dinner.  Discretely, he monitored
the baroness’s drinking and even went so far as to adjourn with the ladies to the drawing room, denying himself the customary glass of port and cigar with the other gentlemen.

Chloe could
do no more than pick at her food and had next to nothing to say to her dinner partners, Sir Clarence and Leslie Pearson.  After dinner, she sat by her aunt and Sir Albert and managed to avoid any real conversation.  When the gentlemen later were heard coming down the hall, Mrs. Palmer was on her feet to position herself by the door to greet the Viscount. Then she announced to one and all her intention to play the pianoforte.

“That is, of course, if my lord will be kind enough to turn my sheet music,” she purred
while gripping his arm.

Neatly trapped, the Viscount agreed to her scheme with apparent good grace, though judging from his facial expression, it was the last thing he wanted to do.  Once seated at the pianoforte with the Viscount standing close beside her, Judith creditably executed several jaunty ditties, to which she added her high soprano voice before urging Lady Sarah to sing a light aria.  The Marchioness’s daughter, a gifted soft soprano, gave a delight
ful performance, and Chloe was able to relax somewhat.

But h
ardly had Lady Sarah sung her last note when, to Chloe’s chagrin, Lady Sophia volunteered her to sing. “My niece has a fine voice.  Dare say, she’d put Mrs. Palmer’s to shame.”

At first Chloe demurred, but in the end,
headache or no, she was forced to capitulate to keep from appearing churlish.  She chose a favorite old Scottish ballad,
Barbara Allen
, and was pleased that her voice sounded clear and strong.

From where Chloe stood, poised in front of the pianoforte, the Viscount remained out of her line of vision, still handling the music for the beautiful widow.  Finishing to a sincere spate of applause,
Chloe dutifully turned to thank Judith Palmer for her accompaniment and met Camden’s scowling countenance.  Returning to her seat, she felt his midnight blue eyes following her progress across the room.  When she was seated, he kept his gaze on her, even as Mrs. Palmer tried to regain his attention.

“Really, Oliver, you are being mo
st uncooperative.  How can I play if you persist in looking about the room?” 

With a steely glint in his eyes, he humbly offered the widow his apology.  “You must allow, then, that I’m a poor excuse for a page turner.  Perhaps Sir Clarence can more ably assist you, my dear,” he said, masterfully snagging that unsuspecting lord as he passed by to take his place.

Camden then took up a stance by the fireplace on the other side of the room, directly across from where Chloe sat with her aunt. 

Every time she glanced up, Chloe found his gaze on her.  Such scrutiny was distressing, especially since she saw that the Frenchman kept a speculative eye on her and Camden.

She was also acutely conscious of having angered the Viscount in some way, and quite unexplainably, was feeling guilty because of it.  Mentally she castigated herself, for such a rogue deserved nothing better from her than her contempt.
Yet, she was helpless to control her emotions.  Knowing he was watching her, she steadfastly avoided his midnight blue eyes.  With her head throbbing painfully, she remained quietly by her aunt until after the tea tray was removed, then at last made excuses for both the baroness and herself to retire.

As the evening
had progressed, Lady Sophia consumed only a goblet of wine.  Apparently her thirst had slacked off considerably, but so too had her contributions to the conversations around her.  Still and all, Chloe had a difficult task getting her aunt to budge.

“I don’t want to go to bed,” the baroness snapped when Chloe tried to help her up from the settee.

“Yes, Aunt Sophia, but it has been a long day,” Chloe almost whispered, all too aware of Camden’s eyes boring into her back.  “Please, Aunt Sophia,” she pleaded.

It was Sir Albert who came to her aid.  “Her
e now, Lady Sophia, give me your arm and help an old man up the stairs.”