Page 5

Chapter Two

Clenching his teeth, Camden speared a darkling glower at the Earl of Monteith’s broad, fleshy back. He’d seen the devil’s spawn ogling Bethea from across the ballroom, and when the earl had followed her and Branwen, Camden had momentarily set aside his purpose for being here tonight.

The instinct to shield Bethea from the lecherous tosspot thrummed through him, echoing with each strident step he took across the crowded room. His need to protect Bethea proved a dangerous distraction.

One he couldn’t afford at the moment, damn it all.

In truth, he hadn’t intended to attend tonight’s ball, and he hadn’t informed Marjorie or Keane of his last-minute change in plans. The widow of their older brother Sion, Camden and his brother Graeme still considered Marjorie their sister.

They always would.

The death of a family member didn’t negate the relationship forged over years.

Keane was his cousin, although there’d been little interaction between the two branches of the family for almost three decades. However, the Buchannans and Kennedys had reconciled their differences, and Camden had come to like and respect his ducal, sometimes stodgy, cousin.

He liked Keane’s eldest ward even more, although he’d not permitted himself to contemplate why. His was a dangerous life, running covert operations for the Crown, and although he enjoyed a lush, feminine body warming his bed, he wasn’t ready to take a bride. Doing so assuredly meant relinquishing his role as an agent.

Dragging in a steadying breath, and reminding himself of the importance of his mission–and that bloodying the nose of his host wouldn’t help advance that purpose–he shifted his focus beyond Montieth.

Camden met Bethea’s startled gaze across the distance. Her beautiful silver-gray eyes went round as the moon, and her delicate raven eyebrows arched high on her forehead.

A glint of welcome shone in her avid gaze, but a stark question did, as well.

Why didna ye tell anyone ye’d be here tonight?

In truth, he’d hoped to avoid his cousin, Marjorie, and the Glanville sisters in this throng, along with revealing the details required to explain his presence in Edinburgh. He’d meant to locate tonight’s target and furtively observe the Sir Phillip Etherington, until the Englishman slunk away for his clandestine meeting that was supposed to occur during the ball.

Then Camden, Bryston McPherson, and their men would follow the scunner, apprehend him en route to meet his contact, and relieve him of the incriminating evidence His Majesty sought.

There were far too many things that could go wrong with that plan. Nonetheless, Etherington had indeed arrived almost an hour ago, and as was his wont, had scarcely spoken to anyone, let alone danced. He was, quite obviously, as uncomfortable and out of place as a strumpet in a convent.

Bethea’s attention flickered to Monteith for an instant, and genuine fear shadowed her refined features.

The earl terrified her, Camden realized with an unpleasant start that ignited a spark of fury.

If Montieth had said or done anything…

Nae, he swiftly reassured himself.

Keane was most protective of his wards. Montieth wouldn’t dare go beyond the bounds of propriety, or he’d risk Keane’s wrath. Montieth might be a powerful earl, but Keane was the Duke of Roxdale. A near legend in Scotland, and only an imbecile dismissed him offhandedly.

And yet, Montieth openly leered at her.

Well, that wasn’t precisely true.

Camden brushed a hand over his jaw as he eyed the earl, still avidly peering down the corridor.

The earl had let his guard down when he wasn’t aware others observed him, and with his back to the guests, only Bethea and her sister could see his face. Branwen appeared to be in some distress, and leaning heavily on Bethea, kept her gaze trained upon the floor.

Branwen murmured something, and pulling her gaze from Camden, Bethea bent her sable head near her sister’s slightly darker head as she guided the taller girl into the room. The door shut firmly behind them.

From what Camden’s informant had briefly told him about the house’s layout, that chamber was the retiring room, and Monteith wouldn’t dare intrude upon the ladies’ hallowed ground.

Or would he?

What did Camden know of Montieth, other than he was wealthy, powerful, and a sycophant always toadying for the king’s attention? Oh, and he had an eye for young ladies and a penchant for whoring. In all likelihood, the man probably had the clap.

Time to ponder and investigate that later, and by God, Camden would.