He had unwittingly made love to a young, unmarried lady, and even though he didn’t believe she had been a virgin, she knew Cyn Malloren would feel he had to marry her; a child would seal his fate. She couldn’t trap him with that cheap trick, trap him into a marriage that would ruin his career, and alienate him from his family forever.
She hastily cleared away all evidence of her masquerade. She stuffed the wig back in the portmanteau, then realized that would tell Cyn instantly who she had been. She pulled it out and flung it into the back of Heatherington’s armoire. She hoped Cyn would forget its very existence. She tossed the clothes and mask in with it.
She picked up the pearl pin and wondered what to do with it. She was tempted to leave it, and yet she sensed it was a gift honestly given. What had Rothgar meant by that last question, about the kisses she had received during the night? From another man it might have reflected pique that he didn’t please her, but not from Rothgar.
Again she had that frightening lack of understanding. She pushed the pin through the facing of her jacket. If the worse came to the worst, it might buy her a few meals one day.
She put her own tie-wig on her head and her slouch hat on top. Once more Charles looked out of the mirror. Her face of the night before, soft with passion, blurred over the real image. She could almost imagine Cyn behind her, his hands on her body . . .
She dragged herself out of this maundering and forced herself to hurry. She hunted through Cyn’s uniform pockets and found his money. She took half.
In a moment of weakness, she clung to his red coat and drank in the aroma there. Sweet heaven, how could she leave him?
Sweet heaven, how could she stay?
It would be impossible to maintain her masquerade after last night, and now more than ever she could not let him know. It would be to trap him by deceit.
Perhaps more than that; perhaps he had come to care for the mysterious woman he had made love to. She remembered the fierce intensity with which he’d demanded her secrets.
Perhaps today he would be looking for Chloe.
Well, both Chloe and Charles were going to disappear . . .
Chastity froze.
If they both disappeared, would he make the connection? Surely it would not take much to trigger a link in his mind. She covered her face with shaking hands.
Was it more dangerous for him if she stayed, or if she fled?
She paced the room, but suddenly she knew. She had to stay. For Cyn’s sake, she had to preserve the charade.
Chastity replaced the money. She studied herself again in the full-length mirror to be sure she’d removed all trace of Chloe. Her lips looked fuller and redder today, but that was all.
She put her hand to her crotch. The past night had shown her that maleness tended to be visible. She was lucky not to have been caught out before, though of course no one had suspected anything and the double layer of breeches helped. If Cyn developed any suspicions, they must be countered.
She went back to the portmanteau and took out the wool that had formed Cyn’s bosom. She rolled a tube of it, thinking of Cyn both limp and hard as she estimated size. Limp would do fine. She had no desire to have anyone think her aroused.
She found she was standing there, hands still, remembering . . . It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t there be a chance for them? She remembered the names she had gathered, and the letter. Perhaps there would be a way to use them. Perhaps she could find the woman who’d broken her hymen. Perhaps Henry Vernham would confess.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
They were all faint chances, and a good part of the world would never believe her honest, but she would try. She would fight.
She looked at the roll of gray wool and stuffed it down her breeches and added another ball at the juncture of her thighs. Then she studied herself in the mirror again and nodded. The illusion was subtle, but if anyone questioned her gender and looked, or even touched, they would lose their doubts. She hoped that applied to Cyn as well as the others.
She checked rigorously that no evidence remained of Chloe. Then she disordered the bed as if she had slept there, and sat down to wait.
Not long after, there was a tap at the door. Chastity opened it a crack and let Cyn in. Did he look at her intently, or was it just her tense nerves, and her desire to fling herself into his arms?
“I hope you had a peaceful night, young Charles.”
“Tolerable,” Chastity said primly. “You, I gather, did not.”
He looked at her from under lids made heavy by lovemaking and lack of sleep. “Why do you assume that?”
“From the fact that you did not return here. I can only assume you found another bed, but not to sleep.”
He began stripping off his suit and putting on his uniform. “Oh, I caught some sleep, but if I doze off on the road, I trust the virtuous half of our party can steer me to Maidenhead.”
The word Maidenhead made Chastity blush, which was a great piece of foolishness. She hid it by packing his suit into the bag. She felt a crackling in the pocket. Had the man not even found her note? What to do now? Rothgar worried her. He could hardly take them prisoner, but if they bumped into him, he would surely delay them.
“Do you want this paper?” she asked, holding it out.
He took it with surprise and read it. “ ’Struth.”
“What is it?”
He gave her a look. “Rothgar’s here.”
“That note’s from him?”
“Hardly. Someone thought to warn me. I wonder who.”
“Will he stop us?”
“No,” he said absolutely. “But the only reason he would be at an affair such as this would be in search of me. I fear we have him hot on our trail.”
“Why would he be pursuing you like this?”
“Simple, bloody interference.” He straightened his uniform, checked the room, and buckled the bag. Once again, any mention of his brother had his temper on edge. “Ready?”
Chastity was surprised at how easy it was to slip back into the Charles and Cyn roles. She even felt a twitch of jealously toward the wanton Chloe who had occupied his night. She shook her head at this folly and followed him out of the door.
He headed for the main stairs, and she caught his sleeve, thinking of Rothgar. “There’s . . . There will be a secondary stair at the end of the building.”
He raised a brow. “We’re not fugitives. We’re here by invitation.”
“What about your brother?”
His jaw tightened. “I am not reduced to skulking down the servants’ stairs to avoid Rothgar.”
“Very well,” she snapped. “Go to hell your own way.”
He hesitated, then set off away from the main stairs. At the bottom of the smaller staircase, he took a passage which led them into the servants’ quarters.
The house seemed dead in the gray morning light. The kitchen was cold and deserted. Except, they discovered, for three weary servants who’d rolled up in blankets near the fire.
Cyn shook his head, but with a hint of a smile. “When Heather celebrates, the world has a headache. This event will go down in the history books.” He found the larder and helped himself to half a cold meat pie, a cottage loaf, a hunk of cheese, and some apples. He drew two tankards of ale from a keg and passed one to Chastity.
She drank it. “Will we not breakfast at the inn?”
“We’re not going to the inn. If Rothgar’s here, he doubtless knows we left the horses at the Angel. He’ll have it watched. We’ll see if we can borrow some of Heather’s horses without a fuss.”
Chastity couldn’t resist. “I thought you weren’t going to skulk around for fear of your brother.”
He flashed her a very unpleasant look. “I’ll simply avoid a confrontation if I can. Come on.”
Outside, the heavy drizzle seeped into them, chill and damp. Chastity shivered and pulled her cloak closer.
It took time for them to find the stables in this gray world, but at last they were inside, look
ing at the rows of horses. This place, however, was not completely unattended. An old man hobbled forward. “Need your horses, sir?” He peered at them with habitual suspicion. “Didn’t reckon there’d be any up this early today.”
“I don’t suppose there’ll be many others,” said Cyn easily. “I’m Lord Cynric Malloren, on government business. Lord Heatherington promised me the use of two horses.”
The man looked dubious, but was clearly unwilling to contest such crisp authority. He went to saddle two thoroughbreds. Cyn gave Chastity the portmanteau and helped.
As they mounted, Cyn posed a question in an offhand manner. “I think my brother is here. The Marquess of Rothgar. I don’t suppose he’s stirring yet?”
“None but you’s up yet, milord.”
“Ah well, if you should see him, tell him I’m sorry to have missed him.”
With that they urged the horses out of the yard and down the lane to the road.
Chastity edged up beside him. “Wouldn’t it have been wiser to bribe the man to silence?”
“Rothgar would just pay him more to speak.”
“So you leave what amounts to a challenge.”
His teeth flashed in a grin. “By the time he’s risen and breakfasted, we’ll be in Maidenhead, and he can catch us if he wants.”
He pushed ahead and Chastity muttered a few choice epithets at his back. His ill-feeling toward his brother could prove disastrous, but she couldn’t warn him that Rothgar was already up and on the prowl without revealing her secret.
They cantered along until they found a milestone giving some hint of where they were.
“The devil of it is,” said Cyn, “that I lost track of our location during that coach ride.”
“Distracted by the lovely songs, I’ve no doubt.”
“You know what, young Charles, you’re going to turn into a prosy bore if you don’t learn to enjoy yourself.”
“I assure you I can enjoy myself when the circumstances are right.”
“Can you? I live to see the day.”
Chastity hid a secret smile.
Cyn too hid a secret smile. Her spirit as was strong as ever.
He scanned the dense gray sky, which was brighter where the sun was struggling to make itself felt. “One thing’s sure, we need to go north. We’ll be bound to cross a London road at some point.”
They rode for an hour, and by that time the drizzle had ceased and some of the mist had faded. They stopped and shared the pie. Cyn yawned. Chastity had to fight not to yawn with him. How much sleep had they had last night? Three or four hours, no more.
“Tired, my lord?” she asked sweetly.
“A little. What of you? You seem a little stiff. Perhaps you’re not accustomed to so much . . . riding.”
Chastity kept her pink face lowered. He didn’t know the half of it. Her muscles were somewhat stiff from the riding yesterday, but it was the lovemaking that had left her so sensitive between her legs.
“Never mind,” he said with a hearty slap on the back. “We can have no more than six miles to go.”
They soon hit the Oxford road, and at a posting inn called the Five Rings they discovered Maidenhead lay but two miles east. They cantered along the busy road, passing carters, and drovers, and people on foot. Stage-coaches and private carriages bowled past.
Chastity suddenly gasped and reined in.
“What is it?” Cyn asked.
“My father’s carriage just passed.”
“Going which way?”
“East. Toward Maidenhead.”
“Hold up, then. We’ll let him get well ahead.” He laid a hand over hers briefly. “Don’t worry. We knew he’d be about. Henry Vernham too, no doubt, unless he’s still combing southward for Mrs. Inchcliff. They’re not looking for us, at least not for me.”
The sight of her father’s carriage had brought all Chastity’s terror of her father to the fore, but she knew what she must do. “Cyn,” she said.
“Yes?”
“The important thing is to deliver the message to Major Frazer. If by any chance my father spots me, you must cut free and continue with our mission.”
He frowned slightly. “And leave you to face his anger for being on the loose?”
Chastity’s stomach knotted at the thought of her father’s anger if he caught her roaming the country dressed as a boy, but she summoned up a cocky tone. “I’ll get a jawing for leaving Nana’s, but that’s hardly a dire fate.”
“Yet Verity seems to fear your father. Why is she not willing to seek the earl’s help?”
“Only because he’ll stop her marrying Nathaniel.”
“But otherwise, she’d feel safe with him?”
Chastity knew he needed reassuring. “Yes. Why not?”
“I just wondered.”
“He is a stern man, and believes he has every right to direct his daughters’ lives. That’s all.”
“And his son’s,” he added pointedly.
Cyn the Protector. Chastity needed all his concentration on Verity’s problems. “I’m still a schoolboy,” she pointed out, “and should be doing as I’m told.”
“I think he’ll beat you.”
She shrugged. “Quite likely. I’ll not die of it.”
Cyn nodded and they rode on.
Chastity didn’t know what the earl would do if he caught her. She’d never been involved in anything so outrageous in her life. After all, her father knew she hadn’t really invited Vernham to her bed. The whippings then had been to force her to agree to the marriage, and the earl had obviously expected her to break under quite mild pain.
She had discovered him to be skilled at the terrifying application of quite mild pain.
There had rarely been any question of her father doing her permanent damage, or leaving scars—though on one occasion her defiance had driven him into an almost murderous rage. That had been when she’d begun to wonder about his sanity, and truly fear for her life. He had controlled himself, however, before doing his worst.
Her brother, Fort, had been the one more likely to break her neck. He had a scarce-manageable temper, and he’d believed she’d smirched the honor of the family. Now, however, she felt she could face Fort, even if he had his hands round her throat. The thought of facing her father turned her knees to jelly.
“We’re almost there,” said Cyn. “Keep your eyes peeled and your head down.”
“That sounds a trifle difficult.”
He quirked a smile. “I never said this would be easy.”
“Yes, you did.”
He laughed.
They arrived at the first cottages of Maidenhead as the church clock stuck eleven. They had seen no sign of the earl, but he would be lodged at one of the many inns. Maidenhead sat on the busy Bath road and boasted any number of posting inns. Stages and carriages crowded the busy high street, and people bustled in and out of shops.
Cyn swung off his horse and indicated that Chastity do the same. “You’ll be less noticeable down here. The thing is to find you a safe spot, then I can search out Frazer. There’s no barracks here, so he’s doubtless billeted on someone, but there must be a command post.”
Chastity wanted to stay with him, but knew it would be foolish. She was the hazard. “If only we knew which inn Father was at . . .”
Cyn halted before the Fleece Inn, where an ostler hovered, alert for approaching business. “Good day,” he said. “Would you know if the Earl of Walgrave is staying here?”
“Nay, Captain,” said the man. “He be up at the Bear.”
Cyn tossed him a penny and moved on. “So, we avoid the Bear. He’ll doubtless have all the inns watched, but he’s not looking for me or you.”
They stopped at the Saracen’s Head. Chastity tugged down the brim of her hat before leading her horse into the yard. Grooms came forward to take the mounts, and Cyn and Chastity were soon in the inn. Cyn bespoke a private bedroom and parlor, and engaged mine host in idle chat which encompassed the eminent people presently in Mai
denhead, the presence of the military, and the strange case of the lost Lady Vernham, whose poster seemed to be everywhere.
By the time they reached their rooms, they knew that the Earl of Walgrave had been back and forth along the Bath road in search of his daughter; that a company of infantry readying for departure to the Continent was billeted on the town under Major Nathaniel Frazer; that the major’s headquarters were at Cross House down by the river; and that the poor lady was feared dead. The word was out along the river to find her body, and that of her babe.
Cyn established Chastity in the rooms with everything she needed. “You are to stay here.”
“Very well.” She couldn’t resist the plea: “Try not to be gone too long.”
“It shouldn’t take long. You might give some thought to our course if Frazer won’t have anything to do with our plan. It could put his career on the line.”
Chastity raised her chin. “He won’t fail Verity. Are you saying you’d put your career before your true love?”
“Who says I have one? But no,” he admitted softly, “I wouldn’t. I have some income beyond my pay, however, and a powerful family to back me. What of Frazer?”
“He has a small estate; but his family are not the like of yours.”
“Well, we’ll see what he says.” He seemed reluctant to leave. “Stay here,” he repeated. “Don’t grow restless and wander off. And lock the door. There’s no reason for anyone to disturb you.”
“Fine,” she said impatiently. “I’m not a fool. Get on with it and it’ll be the sooner done.”
When he’d gone, she turned the key in the lock. The action was strangely reminiscent of last night, but this time she had no intention of sneaking out of the room in any guise. She took a seat by a window that gave onto the bustling high street. She watched the busy scene, but was largely involved in seeking paths for her future.
Jo Beverley - [Malloren 01] Page 20
