Benjamin paced around the room.

"Where would you go?" he said to no one, the room was empty, just him and Clara's belongings.

"If she is dressed as a man, she did not go to her family."

He fought the icy chill that tried to take hold. "No time for fear. Think! Damn you! Think!"

This was not her first time attempting this, which was most likely why she had the confidence her plan would succeed. Benjamin remembered the first time he caught her dressing in clothing belonging to his gender.

It was the first time they had met. She was a young, inexperienced sixteen. He had been in the middle of a card came with Beau and a few other gentlemen, when a young boy caught his eye.

Benjamin watched as the boy hung back in the shadows. At first Benjamin thought the boy must be a servant to one of gentleman in the club. However, he seemed to be wandering around rather aimlessly. The boy's eyes darted about the room as if looking for something or someone.

What was he looking for? Benjamin wondered.

Beau complained about his lack of attention as it was now his turn. Benjamin looked back to his cards but then looked up again seeking out the boy only he had disappeared. This immediately brought out the guard in him. He folded his hand and excused himself from the table.

Benjamin walked through Boodle's until he found the boy again. Hanging outside a doorway where a few of the more prominent members of the club were enjoying the company of some female companions. Boodle's was an all male club, but unlike White's where women are never allowed, here some entered as guests.

He snuck up easily on the boy who was engrossed, jotting way furiously, whatever notes he was taking. He grabbed his arm and spun him around. The note pad and graphite dropping to the floor, with a rather loud clatter.

Benjamin took a moment to be certain no one was disturbed. As no one was, he glowered down at the now anxious looking boy, with beautiful eyes. Wait... where did that thought...

The boy, stomped on his foot, causing a stream of obscenities to cross his lips, capitalized on his moment's hesitation, but his escape did not last long as Benjamin was a well-trained member of the Dragoon's and again he had the boy in his grasp.

"You will pay for that whelp!"

Again the boy threw caution to the wind and took a wild swing.

His movements are sloppy for a spy, Benjamin thought, easily ducking the blow.

He grabbed the boy by the shoulders and shook him hard. The boy's cap had fallen and with it a cascade of near ebony hair.

Whoever she was, she was stunning and took the breath right from his lungs.

This time she easily broke free, taking only a brief pause to snatch up her hat and ran for the door. Benjamin shook his head to clear the daze and pursued but as he hit the street she somehow managed to disappear, completely. She must have had her escape route well planned.

He reentered the club. Limping slightly as his foot still ached. He picked up the discarded note pad and graphite. He couldn't make much sense of the notes. He tucked both items into his vest pocket, and rejoined the others in the game room.

"You feeling well?" Beau asked looking up at Benjamin, who just nodded yes. He chose not to rejoin the game however. He felt beyond puzzled.

Who was she?

What was she doing here?

Was she a spy for the Whig Party?

It hardly seemed likely but still what the devil would cause a woman as beautiful as that to dress in men's clothes and sneak into a men's club? It baffled him exceedingly.

"I know just the thing to brighten you up?" said Mr. Cornelius Banks,  "There is a dinner party this evening. Lady Cantrell is presenting her niece, before her debut at court. Tale tells she is a remarkable beauty. Care to come with me?"

"Why would I? I have not been invited. I would most likely only appear as an imposition on the hostess throwing her table completely out of joint," replied Benjamin.

He could not believe Cornelius would think such an evening would appeal to him. What did he care for who the beauty of the hour maybe? He was currently the eyes and ears Major-general Wellesley left behind to keep him informed while he fought in India. The man had a well-established network of spies, most likely what kept him alive.

Major-general Wellesley and his brother had recently petitioned to come home and Benjamin knew they had political ambitions.

"I will beg if need be...I hate these things and fear of death by boredom," Banks had pleaded.

"Then why the deuce did you accept?" Benjamin asked.

"Did you not hear the part about a remarkable beauty?"

"So you are out to corrupt another young woman? Why do so on my watch?"

"Because I know with you I have no need to compete. Let's face it man, you are beyond confirmed. I believe you've the King's seal on your bachelorhood."

Benjamin laughed heartily at this. "Fine, I will go but promise me when we discover she has warts and gimpy leg, we bow out early and go find some real entertainment for the evening, as these rumor seldom prove true."

"Deal!" Banks agreed and they shook on it.

"Sir? Sir, may we come in?"

Benjamin was pulled back to the present hearing his butler knocking on the door.

"Enter."

A shy, rather scared young woman trailed behind Mr. Fenton. Rosalyn has been in his family employ for some time. Benjamin almost felt sorry for her as she obviously took what happened with Clara to heart.

"Rosalyn, come here."

She approached and stood before him. She was about to speak but Benjamin held up his hand. He did not want the flurry of apologizes to start. "I do not hold you responsible for anything that's happened here. What I need to know from you is information, anything you can tell me that may help me find her?"

Rosalyn reined herself in. She was expecting to be let go. She was expecting his temper. What she didn't expect was that he would want help. She nodded she understood, to relieved at the moment to speak.

"Has she told you anything in confidence?"

"No, sir. After you left she became more and more distant. She stopped conversing with the staff, and her comments to me were limited to instruction only."

Benjamin frowned it was worse then he thought.

"Sir?"

"Yes," Benjamin said, pulled from his thoughts yet again.

"She kept a journal. She wrote it nearly everyday. Perhaps there are some answers in it?" Rosalyn suggested.

"It is an excellent suggestion only it was one of the few belongings she had taken with her."

"And there was nothing in the letter?" Mr. Fenton asked.

The letter. He did not want to deal with it just yet, and he highly doubted she would disclose her whereabouts after taking such lengths to disappear.

"I need all the intell I can gather, Mr. Fenton. The letter is just one resource. What would she do during the day here?"

Rachel looked at Mr. Fenton. "She would stay to her room mostly. Occasionally taking a walk through the house or the garden. She no longer would go for her rides, she really did not write even, except in her journal."

This last statement surprised Benjamin. Clara's writing was her escape, her one true passion. The more he heard the more guilt threatened to bury him. He should have been here. She needed him. She needed his help. She's lost and now he may have lost her forever.

"Is there anything else?"

Then Mr. Fenton spoke up, "Sir, she would keep to her lessons. Fencing, pistols, languages, all expect for her riding. The stable hand had to exercise the horse you had purchased for her."

Rosalyn added, "She weighed next to nothing. She was as nearly all bones. She often refused to eat or just picked at her food."

Neither Mr. Fenton nor Rosalyn thought this information would be useful but it was all they could offer. Benjamin thanked them and then dismissed them.

He sat on her bed. Going over what he had learned thus far.

She took his clothes, lost weight obviously in the attempt to appear less womanly, she kept to herself giving her ample time to plan and prepare. She did not rush this decision, which was why she was not caught, but how far ahead would she look. She would need money. The pawned jewels would only get her so far.

Then he remembered she did not take her horse. She'd have to rent one or a carriage. He shoved the letter back into his pocket, packed a few belongings of his own and came down the stairs.

"Mr. Fenton I need my horse." 

His butler looked startled.

"But Sir? It's pouring and you've only just returned. Surely, it be best..."

It always amazed Fenton how Benjamin can level a man with a mere look. He did not use it often but with one glare you knew to cease and desist. That you were walking a fine line that you dare not cross. Still...

"Yes, Sir. But may I humbly suggest you use your carriage? You can house it at the next carriage inn. We will retrieve it for you. I will make certain your horse is one of the four. Sir, it will do you no good to catch your death searching for Miss Clara. She needs your strength."

Benjamin conceded. Fenton was right. He needed to think more with his head than his heart in this matter. His head is telling him to track her like he would anyone he was looking to get information from or about. His heart however raged against his head, telling him his tactics were torturously slowly, filling his mind with images of what could be happening to her. The panic and bile would rise in his throat.

This was getting him nowhere.

He got into the carriage. His staff really deserved a better master. They were well paid and fiercely loyal. He just wished he could live a simpler life. One where his greatest concern was tending to his lands and entertaining whomever his wife invited to dinner but that was not his lot.

He felt the paper in his vest pocket as if it were burning him. What did it contain? What would she have to tell him? What excuse could she possibly give for destroying him? For if he fails in finding her, that is what will happen.

It was too dark in the carriage to read, it would have to wait until the he reached the inn.

The lull of the ride, the fatigue of his journey, the stress of situation all took its toll on his body and he fell into a fitful sleep.