My Lord the Spy (9 page)

They rejoined their group and, although Henry sent a questioning look to Edmund, nothing was mentioned about their absence. They enjoyed the rest of the food that had been left, but there were no berries to be gathered, the season being too early. When all were filled to satisfaction once more, they set off on their return journey. Clara and Edmund rode together, this time their talk was more flirtatious and teasing with no comments said to antagonise or torment.

The group parted at Half Moon Street with the promise to meet again before too long. Clara was both disappointed and relieved that no firm plans had been made. Her heart was already full of the Earl of Chertsey; hopefully a few days absence would give her enough time to regain her composure.

Chapter 7

Henry and Edmund settled in Henry’s study in his abode in Berkeley Square. “So, did you find out anything from Charles?” Edmund asked.

“Not really; he hinted at some brandy he promises is the best tasting brandy I’ll ever try, but closed up when I started questioning who his source was,” Henry responded.

“He’s hardly likely to spill everything virtually the first time he’s spent any time in your company!” Edmund scoffed.

“He acts the buffoon,” Henry shrugged.

“His sister says he’s young for his age; it doesn’t necessarily follow that he’s stupid,” Edmund said in defence of the young Baron.

“It appeared that you had a more productive afternoon with the sister,” Henry said with a raised brow. “She appeared quite dishevelled when you emerged from the copse of trees.”

Edmund bristled at the way Henry disregarded Clara as just something to use to obtain his goal, but managed to maintain his uninterested demeanour. “She didn’t reveal much, but again, I wouldn’t expect anything on the first outing we have.”

“You must be losing your touch,” Henry mocked.

“Says the man who couldn’t interrogate a boy still wet behind the ears!”

“I don’t want anything to be relayed to Shambles. The boy may be dim, but Shambles certainly isn’t.”

Edmund sighed. “So what’s the next move?”

“We’ll continue to improve our acquaintance with the family. I’m sure they’re our lead to Shambles,” Henry insisted.

*

The following afternoon Joshua poured himself a large glass of brandy from Charles’ decanter. “It’s the finest brandy you’ll ever taste, Charlie.”

Charles smiled at his friend. “It certainly is!”

“And thanks to you we’ll have a steady supply.”

Charles still felt uneasy at what he had been in no position to refuse, but he consoled himself that he was not really doing anything wrong. A bit of brandy would not give Bonaparte an advantage against the British. “Happy to help a friend.”

Clara entered the study and stopped when she saw who was with Charles. Joshua stood and made his bow, and she was forced out of politeness’ sake to curtsey.

“Good afternoon, Miss Baker,” Joshua said, offering a wide smile. He was not unpleasant to look at, but a nearly permanent frown and scowl had creased his skin early. He had a few marks on his face that could have been scars from an illness, but more likely were the results of fights. His broken nose only helped to increase the look of ill-doing. His clothes were of reasonable quality, that befitted a gentleman on the lower levels of society, but even expensive clothing could not disguise a hard, cold man.

“Mr Shambles,” Clara responded coolly. She had not realised her brother had the visitor, or she would have never disturbed them. She hated the fact that Charles associated with him, but she felt uneasy in his company. Edmund’s words about her seeking him if she ever needed him fluttered through her mind, and she stood a little taller, reassured she had support if ever she should need it. “Charles, Milly and I are going to visit Bond Street. I have some purchases I wish to make.”

“I’ll be out when you return,” Charles responded. “I’m spending the evening with Joshua.”

“I see,” Clara responded coolly. “I shall bid you good day then, brother, Mr Shambles.”

The atmosphere was strained after Clara left the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Without words she had conveyed her disapproval of Charles’ plans, and he glowered at the door.

“Sisters, eh?” Joshua said good-naturedly. “She’ll be different once she has a husband to keep her in check.”

“I’m not sure about that!” Charles responded with feeling. “I’m not sure if anyone would take on someone like Clara! It would need a braver man than I!”

“How old is your sister?”

“Two and twenty.”

“I could be interested in marrying her. I like a fiery woman, and she comes with a healthy dowry. It would be a good idea all round,” Joshua said, smiling at the thought of finding himself a wife who came with money.

Charles laughed. “I couldn’t see you two making a match of it, Joshua!”

“Why not?” Joshua asked, his voice quiet.

Charles picked up on the change of expression on his friend’s face and regretted laughing quite so openly. “She’d nag you into an early grave! She’s certainly doing her best to send me to one!”

“What does she nag you about?”

“Why, what I’m doing of course and how much money I’m spending. She’s taken over the role of disapproving parent,” Charles admitted.

“So she doesn’t approve of your exploits?”

“No, not really.” Charles always hated when Joshua started to scowl; he looked sinister.

“And with that I suppose I get the blame, and that’s why she doesn’t approve of me?”

“She doesn’t know you,” Charles said unconvincingly.

“I despise people like her; so easy to look down on us, when they are all high and mighty. The sooner things change the better. Then we’ll see who looks down on whom.”

“She’s my sister, Joshua,” Charles said quietly. He was in awe of his friend and more than a little intimidated, but he would defend Clara when she was spoken of so harshly.

“You’re probably as bad as she is!” Joshua spat. He stood as if to leave.

“Come on, Joshua, you don’t mean this,” Charles said consolingly. “Have another brandy.”

Joshua refilled his glass but remained standing. “I thought you were different, Charlie; I thought you didn’t have airs and graces. It seemed as if we got on well.”

“We did. We do,” Charles answered quickly.

“When I took you under my wing, it was because I saw something in you, but I suppose I should have left you to be dealt with as those men saw fit,” Joshua responded quietly.

Charles shuddered to be reminded of the day he had first met Joshua. Charles had been celebrating a large win on a horse race with some acquaintances. He had drunk too much, and somehow been separated from the rest of the group. Staggering into a disreputable street, Charles had been set upon by a group of men. He had been relieved of his money, everything that he had won and more; thinking that he would be left alone he had been horrified to hear them deciding to kill him.

He had begged them to spare him, but he had seen one of the faces of the group, so in their opinion his fate had been sealed. Just when Charles had thought there was no chance of escape, another person had joined the group. Joshua Shambles had interrupted the attack and with very few words had dispersed them.

Charles had collapsed in relief but had been helped home by Joshua and, the following day, had received a visit from his new acquaintance; Shambles expressing he had wanted to assure himself that Charles had recovered fully.

Charles had been so grateful for Joshua’s intervention that he had pressed a reward on him for his efforts and inconvenience. Joshua had refused the money at first, but Charles had insisted. Joshua finally accepted the funds on the condition that Charles accompany him to an evening’s entertainment. As Charles was keen to show his appreciation in any way he could, the scheme was easily agreed to.

Their first evening went well. Joshua was in the mood to be entertaining and show some of life that Charles had not seen before, but it was all quite respectable. At the end of the evening Charles had won at cards and backgammon, drunk a substantial amount of wine and brandy and spent a wonderful two hours with a lovely brunette.

So the friendship had been formed and, although unlikely, it had blossomed. Charles would always be slightly in awe of his friend, and Joshua was keen to maintain that advantage. He was going to use Charles as much as he possibly could; he could pick out a good opportunity when he saw one, and Charles was that and more.

“I’m sick of all this. I can’t go to half the entertainments you are invited to; I’m sick of the toffs that swan around this City as if they own it. I think I’ll go away for some time,” Joshua said sullenly.

“Where would you go?”

“I don’t know. I fancy some sea air, but I’m a bit short of blunt at the moment.”

“The seaside? Why would you want to go there? It’s nearly the end of the season.”

“For you maybe, but did I get an invite to your fancy ball the other night? No! I think a spell at the seaside would do me the world of good. Be cheaper to live there while my pockets are a little empty.”

“Will you come back soon?” Charles had the image of escorting Clara to every boring event on offer while Joshua was away. Places like Mrs Langtree’s would not be as accessible without his friend to smooth the way.

“I don’t know. It depends on what fun I can find to do there.”

Charles looked forlornly into his glass. “I’ll miss you, Joshua; things won’t be half as much fun without you.”

Joshua remained silent, whilst watching Charles. He kept his features schooled and, although his patience was running low, he resisted the urge to shake the boy. It was important that Charles come to the right conclusion without any interference from himself. Just when Joshua was giving up hope that Charles would take the bait, Charles raised his head with a smile.

“Why don’t I accompany you?”

“Accompany me?” Joshua asked through gritted teeth. The boy really was stupid.

“Well yes...,” Charles faltered a little. “It would mean leaving Clara, which she wouldn’t be happy about…but, I know! Let’s go to Glazebrook House! Clara will be over the moon that I am not being wild in London, and we can do as we please at my own home. What do you say?”

Charles was all aglow with self-congratulation. Joshua would have liked to have brought him down to earth with a box around the ears, but he kept himself in check. There was a lot more needed from Charles Baker before he was no longer any use, and Joshua had to keep reminding himself of that fact. Joshua himself needed access to the estate not just access to the beach. The easiest way to do what he had to do was to be a guest at the house, only he wished Charles had not taken quite so long before he the idea had struck him; when Joshua was sober and not being handed money he found Charles tedious company.

“That sounds like a capital idea, Charlie!” Joshua said, trying to paste a smile on his face. “Would you take all of your family?”

“Why, yes; I couldn’t see Clara or Milly wishing to stay here without me,” Charles pondered. “I’ll ask them tomorrow. When are you thinking of leaving?”

Joshua took some satisfaction at the thought of being in Clara’s company in the same house; hopefully he would have the opportunity to bring her down a peg or two. He did not take kindly to anyone reminding him he came from the gutter. He pushed his thoughts away for now. “As soon as you can, Charlie; I’m sure there’s plenty of mischief to involve ourselves in on the Dorset coast.”

“I hope you won’t be bored, Joshua,” Charles said, a note of doubt creeping into his plan.

“Not at all Charlie, not at all. With you by my side, I’ll have all kinds of fun.”

“Oh, good,” Charles said, relieved once more that his friend was happy.

*

Charles had stormed out of the house the following morning after his news of their move to the country was met with disbelief and censure. Clara and Milly were left staring at each other in the morning room as the sound of the front door slamming reverberated through the house.

“What can he be thinking?” Clara asked in bewilderment.

“I’m afraid he’s baffled even me this time,” Milly admitted. “I thought he was intent on chasing Miss Beresford. To take himself off to Dorset will mean she will be married on his return; it’s virtually guaranteed.”

“Yes, the way many young men have been hovering around her this season, Charles will definitely lose out if he leaves. Do you believe him when he says it was his idea to return to Dorset?” Clara asked.

“He doesn’t normally lie,” Milly defended her cousin.

“I know; that’s what bothers me,” Clara responded. “He is changing little by little. Whenever he has spent any time in Mr Shambles’ company he turns into someone I don’t know. I wish he could be as he was at the ball the other night or, even better, in the mood he was in on our afternoon out,” Clara said with feeling.

“Perhaps it has something to do with your own mood,” Milly started. “Oh, I know this scheme is addled, but you were a lot more relaxed on our day out than you have been recently. Perhaps a certain Earl puts you in a happier frame of mind and that rubs off on the way you deal with Charles?”