Part 25 (1/2)
”Oh, pooh,” Anthony dismissed her fears. ”Don't be such a worrywart, Milla. Nothing is going to happen to me.”
”Don't be so sure,” Benedict told him. ”I don't want you going into it with that sort of att.i.tude or you'll get us all killed. This man is dangerous, and we shall have to be on our toes.”
”Yes, sir.”
Benedict turned to Camilla. ”But one thing you don't know about me, my dear-I am a dangerous man, also. Rest a.s.sured that I will watch out for Anthony.”
”Oh!” Camilla let out a groan of frustration. ”You think that you are invincible.”
”Not entirely.” He smiled. ”But I have gotten through some tight spots before. I know how to take care of myself-and my men. I've always brought them through.”
Camilla would have liked to protest, but she knew that it was pointless. Once men made up their minds about something, especially something dangerous and foolhardy, there was no changing them.
”Then I suppose that I shall simply have to go along with you,'' she said calmly.
”What?” The word chorused from all three men, but only Woollery looked surprised.
”Absolutely not,” Benedict p.r.o.nounced, his brows rus.h.i.+ng together sternly. ”I forbid it.”
”You what?” Camilla's voice was dangerously silky.
Anthony groaned, knowing that those words were like a red flag waved in front of his cousin. Quickly he jumped in, ”Be reasonable, Milla. You can't go. You would be recognized in an instant. No one would think you were a man.”
”I'm not much smaller than Jem Crowder,” Camilla protested.
”Maybe not, but you are shaped rather differently,”
Camilla's color rose a little at her cousin's blunt words, but she said stoutly, ”Nonsense. In rough workman's clothes, you won't be able to see my shape.”
”There is your walk,” Benedict pointed out, seeing the wisdom of Anthony's course. ”The way you move, even the tilt of your head, is distinctly feminine. And don't tell me you can heft a keg of brandy like a man.”
”That's right.” Anthony nodded emphatically. ”As soon as you tried to lift a heavy object, your masquerade would be over. Then the rest of us would be doomed, too.”
Camilla did not like to give in, but she could see the wisdom of the men's words. She decided to try a different tack. ”But how are the rest of you going to pa.s.s as smugglers? Don't you think they will notice if Anthony shows up with an extra man or two?”
Anthony nodded regretfully. ”She's right about that. I don't know how you can pull this off.”
Benedict looked thoughtful. ”What if... some of the regular smugglers were taken ill and couldn't go- right on the very night of the run? Wouldn't the group need extra men-and quickly?”
”I suppose so.”
”You know who the smugglers are, don't you? At least some of them?”
”Yes.”
”Is there a single family that contributes several of the men?”
Anthony nodded. ”The Matsons. There are three of them. Two brothers and one brother's son. They all live together in one house. But how are you going to make sure they're sick?”
”There are herbs that will do the trick. Aren't there, my dear?” Benedict looked toward Camilla.
She grimaced sourly. ”I wouldn't know. I am not in the habit of trying to poison people.”
”It won't seriously injure them,” Benedict argued. ”We'll slip it in their food at noon, and it will make them sick at their stomachs for a while, long enough for the smugglers to realize that they will be short-handed. When you hear this-” he nodded toward Anthony ”-then you can tell them that there's a gardener or groom or some such at the Park whom you know would love to earn a little extra money, no questions asked.”
Anthony nodded. ”I can do that.”
”You are all mad,” Camilla said flatly. ”You will wind up getting killed.”
”Do you have some other suggestion?” Benedict challenged her quietly. ”Another way that we could trap the man who is betraying this country to our enemy? Or perhaps you think we should allow him to continue to do so?”
”No, of course not.” Camilla gazed back at him, a trifle sulkily. He had her neatly trapped. She could not, of course, sanction letting the traitor work at will, but neither could she think of another way to capture him. ”I am simply saying that it is dangerous.”
”My dear girl...a little danger is the spice of life.”
”Yes, and I have known from the beginning how much you like spice,” Camilla retorted bitterly.
Both Woollery and Anthony looked at her oddly. Only Benedict could guess the reason for her bad humor, and he could say nothing to soothe her in front of the others. He cursed his bad luck. This was not the way he had meant for her to find out about his true ident.i.ty. He could see now how wrongheadedly he had handled the whole thing. He should have realized that Camilla would not be mixed up in treason, or even in the smuggling-not even to help out her cousin. He should have revealed to her who he was and what he was seeking. Then he would have had her help the whole time. She would have come to him and told him all about their mysterious patient. Everything would have been easier-and she wouldn't be in such a snit now, either.
”Well,” Camilla went on coolly, ”I have other things to do. I shall leave you gentlemen to make your plans for your expedition.”
She turned and strode out of the room.
”Camilla! Wait!” Benedict started to follow her, but Anthony laid a restraining hand on his arm.
”I would let her be alone for a while if I were you,” Anthony told him. ”She'll just take your head off if you try to talk to her now. I know. I've tried it often enough.” He gave a rueful smile. ”She's angry because she can't go with us on the smuggling run. But she will come around, you'll see. She's always been a right 'un. And she won't tell anyone about it, either.”
”No, I am sure she will not,” Benedict agreed, looking after her in indecision. He suspected that Anthony was right, and if he did try to talk to her now, it would only lead to a furious argument. They both might very well say things they did not mean, and he would end up in a worse position than he was in now. He sighed. ”You are right. I will talk to her later.” In their bedroom, where he could soften her with kisses and caresses.
Camilla stormed off the island and across the path to the beach, ignoring the water that lapped only inches from her feet. Such angry emotions churned within her that she felt almost physically sick. Lord Rawdon, indeed! She did not pause to examine her emotions. She only knew that she felt utterly betrayed and bereft. Her life was ruined, and it was Benedict who was the cause.
When she reached the house, she did not go into the breakfast room. She was feeling too ill. Instead, she went up to her bedroom and rang for her maid. It was there that Benedict found her, directing the activities of two footmen and the maid, when he came in an hour later.
He stopped and looked at the cot, set up in one corner of the room, on which the maid was busily tucking in sheets. The footmen, standing at either end of the cot, busily avoided his eyes. Benedict looked from the group over to Camilla, who folded her arms across her chest and gazed back at him coolly. He turned back to the servants.
”Out.” His clipped voice and the peremptory jerk of his head were enough to send the three servants scurrying out of the room. The maid prudently closed the door behind her.
”What is this?” Benedict nodded toward the makes.h.i.+ft bed.
”That is a cot. Surely you have seen them before. I imagine in the army that you even slept on one.”
”Stop playing the fool. You know what I mean. What is it doing here?”
”I should think that would be obvious. As for playing the fool, I am afraid I can be nothing else. After all, isn't that why you chose me for this charade?”
”If you will remember,” Benedict said through clenched teeth, ”it was you who chose me, not the other way around.” He realized that over the past few days he had forgotten how utterly maddening the girl was.
”Of course. I suppose that makes this all my fault, then.”