Free Shady Lady by Elizabeth Thornton

telling me, again, precisely what happened last night in Barnet. He lost her. How can that be? And how does Waldo Bowman come into it?”
    Bates spoke soothingly. “That was unfortunate. It appeared that the ladies had retired for the night, so Taggart decided to keep an eye on Mr. Bowman. He was curious to find out what the connection was there. It seemed suspicious to him that Bowman would turn up just when Mrs. Chesney made the move we’ve been waiting for.”
    “But there’s nothing suspicious about their meeting?”
    “Apparently not. According to Taggart, they met by accident. Words were exchanged, not a quarrel exactly, but close to it. Mr. Bowman insisted on driving Mrs. Chesney back to her hotel. Taggart could not follow because he was on foot, so he waited for Mr. Bowman to return to his friends. At some point, he overheard Mr. Bowman tell his companion, Mr. Ruggles, that they were to call for Mrs. Chesney in the morning and escort her to town.”
    The viscount’s tone was dry. “So Taggart went to bed and, while he was sleeping, our quarry slipped away.”
    “I’m afraid so. Bowman didn’t fare any better. When he called at the Red Lion this morning, he seemed genuinely surprised to learn that Mrs. Chesney and her companion had decided to push on to town last night.” He hastened to add, “It’s only a matter of time before he finds her, unless she has gone into hiding.”
    The viscount frowned. “Did she spot Taggart? Does she know she was followed?”
    “No. Taggart thinks it’s Mr. Bowman whom Mrs. Chesney is trying to avoid.”
    “I see.” After a moment’s reflection, the viscount went on, “Well, I hope we have someone keeping an eye on Lady Webberley’s house. Mrs. Chesney is bound to turn up there sooner or later.”
    Bates allowed himself a faint smile. “That’s already taken care of, m’lord. One of the gardeners is Taggart’s man.”
    “It would be better if he were one of the inside servants.”
    “There are no footmen in Lady Webberley’s employ, but she relies on the gardeners to help the maids with the heavy work.”
    “Just make sure he knows what Mrs. Chesney gets up to.”
    The viscount sipped his brandy and drew on his cheroot as he silently reflected on the course of action he had followed to protect his position in society and everything that mattered to him. He’d told Bates that Lady Webberley had threatened to ruin him. In fact, it had not gone that far. But he had no doubt that it would have if he had not stopped her before she could act. He knew she was Lady Tellall and wrote for the
Journal
. She would not have hesitated to publish what she knew in her column. Even if she could not prove anything, he could not afford the scandal that would arise, not when he was on the point of marrying the Marquess of Kintyre’s daughter. Chloë was no longer a problem, but until he got his hands on her diary and destroyed it he would never feel secure.
    To be fair to Taggart, he’d been thorough. They might not know where Chloë’s diary was, but they knew where it was not. It was not in Chloë’s house, nor in Mrs. Chesney’s house, nor at the
Journal
’s offices. Jo Chesney was his last chance to tie up loose ends. If she could not lead him to the diary, no one could. He doubted that she would understand the threat to him. Even Chloë had not understood until that last evening of the house party.
    If he’d been thinking straight, he would never have taken up with her. She was older than he, more sophisticated. And he’d been besotted. But besotted or not, the thought of marriage never once crossed his mind. He knew what he owed his family. His bride’s reputation must be spotless. Chloë was a woman of the world. It was too bad she could not keep her nose out of what did not concern her.
    He poured himself another brandy. Sipping slowly, he focused his mind on Taggart’s report. As the thoughts occurred to him, he said, “Who is this boy, Eric Foley? She went