A Fine Caprice - A Regency Romance by Kate Harper

with all that she could for the moment , she snuggled down beneath the blankets and finally allowed herself to fall wholeheartedly and completely into welcoming slumber.
    And if anybody did try to get through the door, she certainly did not hear anything for her dreams remained undisturbed.
     
    Merridew returned to his bedchamber – his damp , slightly smoky bedchamber , for of course the chimney could do with a clean – in a thoughtful frame of mind. Upon hearing the unmistakable sounds of an intruder downstairs, he had investigated with caution, half expecting… well, he was not sure what he had been expecting. Anthony Fenshaw’s suspicions had alerted him to the prospect of something occurring , but ju st what that might be was unclear. While he had initially dismissed the idea that his uncle had been mixed up in anything other than smuggling – all the family knew that he was involved in that – he was coming around to the idea that he was mistaken for instinct told hi m something was happening at Abbey Cross. Even so… he had been here for four days and apart from the arrival of Hadley and his exotic companion , had seen no one but the shopkeepers he had bought supplies off. If there were smugglers or spies about, they were keeping a very low profile while Fenshaw’s agents had not approached him .
    He aring a noise downstairs, his hopes had risen that something was finally happening. He had been surprised to discover a lad who, unless he was very much mistaken, was telling the truth about wandering in to the wrong place despite the fact that his arrival in the middle of the nigh t was decidedly odd . As unlikely as it might seem, there was an unmistakable ring of truth in what he’d said . The one thing that hadn’t sat so easily was the story of young Jem Morris’ antecedents, but who could say what the boy’s circumstances were? Certainly, a great many men got their servants pregnant; it was one of the more unpalatable facts of life so the probability that Jem’s father had been some lusty nobleman was high. But there was something, a note that had been a little off key. Not that it mattered. S tableboys did take up new positions and they probably got lost and arrived l ate upon occasion, more frequently than most people probably realized.
    Besides, t here had been something ingenuous about those clear green eyes that had convinced Cass that, whatever the reasons the boy had for wandering around in the middle of the night , malicious intent did not come into it. And while the French – and no do ubt the English as well, for he was no t naïve – might sometimes employ young lads as spi es, Jem Morris was not a cont ender. Not that the boy was unintelligent. He was certainly bright, t hat had been obvious from the moment he had opened his mouth. What had really convinced Cass that the lad’s story was true was his obvious confusion about finding himself where he had not expected to be. That confusion had been entirely genuine.
    Cass grinned, touching the small lu mp where plate had met skull . He couldn’t remember the last time somebody had broken crockery over his head but it had likely been back at Oxford when he and his friends were in their cups, a relatively frequent occurrence when they’d been up to no good . H e had to admire the boy’s spunk; he’d certainly decided to act first and ask questions later.
    Cass sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. His sud den decision to enlist Jem Morris’ aid had been an impulsive one but upon reflection, he could see no harm in it. It would be damned useful to have eyes in the back of his head at the moment and that was exactly wh at he intended to use the boy for. Since his arrival he had ach ieved practically nothing apart from a renewed distaste for spiders and an increasing dislike of useless clutter . He had never seen so much rubbish in one place. God along knows how his uncle had managed, an old man negotiating his way around the mountains of