Too bad someone couldn’t arrestthat manfor his devious lifestyle and free Kat. If only Fredrick was still alive, investigating Malcolm would be his newest pursuit. He’d thrived on the chase.
Rolling her eyes, Camilla ushered the ridiculous thought from her head. She had only been married to Lord Hardy for a few short years, but when he died, there was no grieving on her part. No, her beast of a husband was better off six feet under, in the cold ground.
Unfortunately, with his death, the money stopped as well. If only she could do something to earn a living. If only she could be a good agent like Lord Hardy had been. If only…
Her thoughts skidded to a halt, and she straightened on the leather seat.Whycan’tI be an agent?Kat had let it slip about her traitorous husband doing something illegal in regard to his business partners. If Camilla could get enough information on the man to turn him in, surely they would see her value as an agent and enable her to pay for Kat’s care.
A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She could do it. She had spied on her husband often enough, and he had never had an inkling of her activities. Confidence grew inside her.
There was only one problem she could foresee. It had never been in her nature to act bold and forward. Could she possibly get the information she needed and force the Crown to listen to her?
Assertiveness had always been a part of Kat’s character. Now it was Camilla’s turn to be aggressive—and it frightened her nearly to death.
Chapter One
Dorchester, two weeks later
Camilla Hardy steppeddown from the stagecoach, breathing a heavy sigh. The trip had been too long and jostled her around so much that the coiled hair at the base of her neck fell in a disarray of curls. The constant sway of the coach made her feel like she had been on a ship at times, especially when she closed her eyes.
“Lady Hardy? Are ye all right?” Timothy trudged up behind her, pulling her trunk.
“Yes. I will be fine.” She surveyed the busy street, pushing strands of hair out of her eyes. “So long as we can find lodging before I am jostled again.”
Her servant, a man who was almost as old as her father, straightened and walked in front of her. “Although we’ve few shillin’s left, I’ll find a conveyance. Ye stay right ’ere with the trunk. It shouldn’t take much time to locate transportation to yer brother-in-law’s.”
Sweeping the unruly mass of hair over her shoulder, she sat on the trunk and clutched her satchel. She must find lodgings soon. Funds were low, which placed a greater urgency on her plans.
Especially now.
Tears stung her eyes as she reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out the letter she had received from Dr. Smythe.
Lady Hardy, I regret to inform you that your sister, Katherine Worthington, died after you left the hospital. She found a knife and cut herself. When I found her, she’d lost so much blood, it was too late to save her. Accept my apologies and my deepest sympathy. I will send you the bill, since your sister didn’t have the funds to cover it. Respectfully, Dr. Smythe.
Camilla swiped the tears from her eyes and placed the letter back in her cloak. There hadn’t been time—or money—for a proper burial. When Camilla arrived at the hospital, the physician had already placed Katherine in the box and lowered her into the ground. All Camilla could do was utter a prayer and lay a red rose on top of the long wooden box. Not long after that, hatred had fueled her, and she couldn’t wait to confront her brother-in-law.
When she imagined meeting Malcolm Worthington for the first time, her heart pounded fiercely, and fear caused her palms to moisten. She hadn’t yet written to him to inform him of his wife’s demise or about the added expenses of the hospital and burial. But that wasn’t foremost on her mind any longer.
Staying in Dorchester, Camilla had planned to watch Mr. Worthington closely and gather as much information as she could in dealing with his traitorous actions toward his business partners. What words would convince him to treat her like family? She must figure out what she would say to him to get close enough to spy on him. If he were the demon Kat had accused him of being, he wasn’t going to welcome Camilla into his home with open arms.
Off to the side, a street urchin standing near the apple cart drew her attention. The young lad’s gaze darted around the street suspiciously. Dirt streaked his face and tattered clothes, and his hair appeared as if he hadn’t combed it—or even washedit—for weeks. When the owner of the cart turned his back on the boy, the lad’s hand snaked out, grabbing an apple.
That little thief!She stood as he ran past. Reaching, she tried to grab the imp, but only succeeded in stumbling forward. The owner of the cart swung around and faced her, and his eyes widened the longer he stared.
“Oh, it’s you,” he accused, pointing his finger.
Panic choked her throat. “No! I didn’t take it. It was that little boy.”
The man glanced up the street and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Constable, over here.”
She shook her head, but the cart owner wouldn’t listen. He continued calling for help, pushing aside patrons as he hurried toward her. She couldn’t allow them to arrest her.
I must get out of here.Energy pumped into her legs, and she ran as fast as she could. Ahead of her stood a building with hedges planted in the back. If she could get there and hide…
She turned the corner and paused, resting against the wooden frame of the building. Deep breaths heaved from her chest, which burned from lack of air. Cautiously, she peeked to see if anyone had noticed her. They were still running after her, calling for her to stop.
Clutching her cumbersome skirt, she scurried toward the end of the building and ducked behind the far corner. Another street opened before her, and spectators gawked at the commotion she created. She continued until another alleyway loomed ahead.
As she glanced over her shoulder, she breathed a heavy sigh that the men following were farther behind. But within seconds, more had joined the chase.
