She tossed onto her side and wrinkled her nose. The bedding smelled pleasant, but it was a different smell to what she was used to, and she really wished she’d brought her duck feather pillow. This one was harder than hers and kept making her ear numb and she had a dry itchy throat from who knew what. Rolling onto her other side, she huffed, and counted silently to one hundred. Clem cleared her throat but to no avail. She was parched. She shoved up to a sitting position.
Moonlight slipped through the crack between the curtains and lit a pretty room decorated in what someone once believed was the oriental style with thick silk wall hangings and rugs most likely not from the Far East.
Mary had proudly offered her the best room in the house and Clem found herself packed up and settled in in mere hours. Ivy thought it was terribly sweet of her, Lily was too involved in breaking in father’s latest horse, and Mama overly busy with her latest painting to mind much. Only Violet questioned if Clem was putting herself in danger, considering there had been not one but two cases or an intruder. Well, the two brutish men pacing up and down the perimeter fence of the house would surely persuade even her protective older sister that she was in no danger. Their arms were even bigger than Roman’s.
He had not helped matters, either. He hadn’t even expressed disgust at the idea of her staying here. Considering his blatant disapproval, she’d expected him to jump up and declare the idea the most terrible thing he’d ever heard. Instead, he sat there in silence with an odd expression on his face as though the world had been pulled from beneath his feet. Blasted man. Could he not behave the way she expected at least once?
With a sigh, she slung her feet over the edge of the bed and pressed them into the thick rug by the bed. The evening was warm enough for her to forgo a dressing gown, so she padded over to the door and eased it open, wincing when it creaked on its hinges. Mary had assured Clem she slept like the dead which would explain why she had not awoken as soon as someone snuck into her bedroom, but Clem could not shake the feeling of being an intruder herself. She did not belong here and could not quite believe the direction her life had taken this past week or so. She’d gone from offering to help a helpless old lady to nearly kissing Lord Rochdale to being coaxed by the helpless old lady into being her companion.
Still, at least she might be able to find this letter sooner rather than later and put an end to this whole matter. Quite how they would persuade this trespasser to give up their search, she did not know. The whole affair was a mess.
Clem made her way down the corridor to the top of the stairs. Running a hand along the smooth wood banister, she took the steps carefully but stilled with a frown.
What on earth was that noise? An animal? It had sounded awfully odd, like a strangled sort of a squeal. It wasn’t a fox. She’d certainly never heard an owl make that sort of noise and she wasn’t certain what noises badgers made. What other nighttime creatures were there?
She swallowed past her dry throat and continued down the stairs, easing out a shuddery breath when the moonlight from the front windows illuminated her steps and revealed the entranceway to be empty.
Must have been an animal.
She paused at the front door. The kitchen was to the left, down the stairs. Or she could investigate that noise.
Violet would kill her. Roman might even have a word or two to say.
Pfft.Who was she jesting? If she fell off the edge of the planet, he’d be happy. One less badly behaved Musgrave to worry about, no doubt.
She twisted the key sitting in the lock and inched open the heavy door. The road past the house offered silence punctuated by the occasional clop of horse hooves and she certainly heard an owl in the distance.Notthe sound she’d first heard.
Pressing her head out of the gap, she looked left and right and paused. What looked like a dark, shadowy pile of clothes blocked the path that led all the way around the house. A trick perhaps? A way to lure her out of the house? Though if the trespasser knew she was staying here now, would they really think her a good defense?
A shiver travelled up her spine at the idea they might have been watching the house. The alternative was to go back inside and barricade herself and Mary in a room. Did she want to worry an old lady for no reason?
She shook her head to herself and straightened her shoulders. What was the point in her being here if she did not take action? She removed the key slowly from the lock and stepped outside, the stones cold on her bare feet. Then she locked the door behind her and headed toward the pile of clothing.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she rushed forward, key gripped in her hand, when it became clear this was no pile of clothes but one of the men Roman had hired.
“Oh da—dash it all!” She kneeled beside him and with great effort rolled him over.
Even in the dark, it was clear he was knocked senseless. A press of her fingers to his neck assured her he remained alive, and she could not see or feel any blood. She would have to find his companion and have him move the man into the house.
Movement caught her eye and she rose and waved a hand. “Sir! Your friend is—”
The figure moved swiftly and far more quickly than she would have expected of one of the hired protectors. It only took her a second to realize: this was not one of the guards.
“You!” she said and gripped her skirts, key still clutched tightly in her hand, to give chase.
Clem followed the shadowed figure around the house. He wore a cloak that billowed out behind him, and he ran awfully fast. Her bare feet caught on several stones, and she bit back a cry of pain when a particularly large one jabbed the sole of her foot.
The intruder didn’t look back, dashing down into the gardens, winding his way between mature yew trees. Gulping down a breath, Clem swerved onto the grass, tucked her head down, and picked up her pace. The gap was closing. The man was tiring. She would have him in—
The ground gave way beneath her. Or at least one part of it did. Her foot dropped straight into a hole, and she collapsed. Pain raced up her ankle as she went down, key falling from her hand, and she folded to the ground.
When she looked up again, the trespasser had vanished.
∞∞∞
There was no reason to do it to himself. After all, there was a reason Roman had a land agent and a secretary, and many other men and women employed to aid him with the running of the estates, but some days, he could not resist trying to see if his reading had improved.
He trudged through the first half of the letter then slapped it against the desk with a sigh. It wouldn’t matter how much he practiced, he’d never be good at reading. If he attempted to read it aloud, it would be even worse. He dropped his head to his hands. Some marquis he made, scarcely able to read a brief letter in a reasonable amount of time.