Chapter Ten: Hatching A Plan

The next morning, Catherine couldn't offer more than a timid, apologetic smile when her tall, slim guardian walked into the room.

"If you're here to scold me, please don't. My head is pounding!"

"Yes, I can imagine." Graceful as a jungle cat, Mr. Culpepper perched on the side of her mussed and rumpled bed. He pressed a tumbler of dark liquid into her trembling hand. "Here, drink this."

"But what is it? I don't . . . I'm not . . . oh, that was beastly!" Catherine quickly wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her bedgown. "What was it?"

"Nothing much." Culpepper caught the last drops at the corners of her lips with a few neat little dabs of his handkerchief. "Tomato juice, black pepper, ginger and some other spices, and of course the yolk of a raw egg. Just a little something to clear your head."

"I feel better now." In truth, Catherine's pulse was racing like mad thanks to the powerful concoction. The sight of her stern and commanding guardian looming over brought back all the most lurid images from last night's fitful, restless, dream-filled slumber.

"I'm glad." Culpepper drank in Catherine's agitation with unconcealed amusement. "You'll need a clear head for our discussion."

"What do we have to discuss?" Catherine wiggled upright and hastily threw a hand over her wildly pulsing throat. Even sitting up she felt dizzy, and quite out of breath. Thomas Culpepper had a way of sucking all the air out of her lungs.

"We need to decide what to do with you."

Catherine's red lips formed a dissatisfied pout. "Well, I thought . . . I thought that as my legal guardian, you got to decide everything."

"That was what I thought too . . . until last night."

"You were right about last night," Catherine said quickly. She pictured herself on her knees, vomiting into the rose bushes. "Drinking like that was stupid, and childish. I should never have gone into the garden with Milton. If you hadn't come along . . ."

"Milton wanted you," Culpepper said, in a husky voice. "But he's only a boy. I'm a man, Catherine. And I want you too."

"Oh!" Catherine's gasp of surprise was followed by a low moan of pleasure. Nothing had ever jolted her like Thomas Culpepper's sudden kiss. She drank in the smell of him, the taste of him, and the craving for his kisses grew even stronger. Thomas made her forget everything, even her hangover. The two of them were kissing on her mussed up bed and it was scandalous, because they were not married. But it felt so right . . . so very, very right . . .

"Good morning, children! Practicing a little ahead of time, are we?" A cheerful female voice sang out a greeting as the door flew open.

"Practicing?" Catherine was too dazed to think straight. All she could manage to do was to gape open-mouthed at the sophisticated older woman. Her red, swollen lips were still tingling.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, dearest. I thought Mr. Culpepper was going to explain everything." Lady Cleveland was fully dressed, looking sleek and trim in a set of sable furs and a black traveling dress. She shot Thomas Culpepper a quizzical look, her black eyes gleaming.

Thomas Culpepper cleared his throat. "Yesterday Lady Cleveland asked me to use my contacts and check some of the London pawn shops to see if I could find any trace of the ancient artefacts Paul Atherton stole from the church. But I came up empty-handed."

"Paul may have been working for some private collector," Lady Cleveland put in. "Someone with connections of his own, someone wealthy enough to cover up the poor boy's disappearance."

"Well, can't we check with the private collectors?" Catherine asked. She had her wits back in order, and she didn't understand why Thomas had to visit all the pawn shops without inviting her. Probably he thought it wasn't appropriate for a young lady like her!

"That's just the point," Thomas said. "All the pawnshops are owned by shady types, men with criminal backgrounds. I know how to deal with those fellows. I grew up with them. But the private collectors are mostly aristocrats, people with titles and vast estates."

"You need me to come with you!" Catherine brightened at once. "Let's pretend we're a couple, engaged to be married, and you're searching for the perfect gift!"

"Clever girl!" Lady Cleveland put her hand on Catherine's shoulder. "But we've already hatched a better plan. You and I will pay calls on the collectors first, offering to sell treasures from Henry Tudor's private estate. That's illegal since you're not yet of legal age. So whoever offers to buy them from you is dealing in stolen goods."

"But what about us?" Catherine looked at Thomas expectantly.

"We've been lovers for ages," Culpepper calmly explained. "But now you're fed up with me. And that is why you're going behind my back. But your wicked guardian still wants you, in fact he's obsessed with you. I'll catch up with you just as the stolen jewels are changing hands. And then we've got him!"

"Do I get a reward?" Catherine had plenty of money already. But she knew exactly what sort of reward she wanted most.