“Of course,” she said, finishing off her champagne and handing her empty glass to a passing footman. “With so many things to entertain you in Brighton, it is kind of you to attend my great-aunt’s soirée.” What she didn’t say was that she was surprised her great-aunt had invited him. Well, perhaps it was due to his association with her countess friend. Then, too, the vicomte made for an unusual guest. “Have you met many of Aunt Agatha’s friends?”
The vicomte cast a look around the crowded parlor. “Not all. But, from those I have met, this appears to be a gathering of some of the most interesting members of Brighton’s society.”
“I expect it is,” said Chastity. “At least the ones who summer here. My great-aunt seems to know everyone.”
Sir Robert glanced toward Rose. “Who is the man conversing with your friend?”
“Oh, that’s Mr. Cairo, whom I only just met. A fascinating fellow. With them is my aunt’s good friend, Mrs. Fitzherbert. Have you perchance met her?”
“Is Mrs. Fitzherbert the one associated with the king?” asked the vicomte.
Chastity thought “associated” an interesting choice of words. “Yes, in his distant past. She is a wonderful woman.” Another controversial woman, thought Chastity, one she was proud to call friend.
“I shall look forward to meeting her,” said M’sieur Donet. His accent was a soothing balm to her senses disturbed by the presence of Sir Robert standing so close. She detected a subtle smile forming on The Rogue’s face as if he were aware of her discomfiture and found it amusing.
“I’m sure my great-aunt would be pleased to introduce you to the young women here. I scarce know any of them or I would do so myself.” In truth, she didn’t want to introduce the vicomte to any lady who might draw his interest from Rose. She would feel herself successful if, after tonight, Rose had many suitors in Brighton competing for her hand, one of whom was the vicomte.
“What of your cat, Miss Reynolds?” asked M’sieur Donet. “I have heard so much about him.”
She glanced at Sir Robert, a twinkle in his eye. “I daresay you have.”
“Is the feline about?” inquired M’sieur Donet.
“Crispin doesn’t favor crowds. I expect he is lounging on my bed at this very moment.”
“What an appealing thought,” said Sir Robert with a wry smile that made her suspect he was not speaking of the cat, but her bed.
Turning to M’sieur Donet, he said, “The cat and I are now friends, Jack. I shall introduce you myself should the feline condescend to make an appearance.”
The vicomte chuckled.
Chastity probably should have remarked on Sir Robert’s rescue of her cat but his smug look drove that thought from her mind. Fighting a huff, she wished them a good evening and went in search of another glass of champagne.
Sometime later, Lady Sanborn stopped to chat with Robbie, asking him if he and Jack were enjoying themselves. The grand feather adorning her many-colored turban wafted in the breeze coming through the door to the parlor.
“We are,” Robbie offered. Seeing Chastity Reynolds glide past them with her friend and Mr. Cairo, he added, “Your great-niece seems to be delighted with your many friends.”
Lady Sanborn watched her great-niece for a moment and then turned back to him. “Yes, and they appear to adore her. Why, Lord Alvanley has been seeking her attention all evening but she has yet to pause long enough for him to catch up with her.”
“The music is quite nice,” observed Jack, darting a glance at the small group of musicians.
The older lady sighed as she let her gaze drift around the room. “One cannot very well have a soirée without music, but the musical group does take up space. Alas, I could have wished for a larger parlor, but I do believe the press of all my guests has not diminished their pleasure.”
Having been curious about some of the men he’d observed, Robbie asked, “My lady, do you know all of those here tonight?”
“Goodness no, not all,” she said, shaking her head, causing the feather to flicker above her. “Some have come with those I invited. I never mind such additions. They are often the most interesting people.” She turned toward her guests. “Have you met Mr. Cairo?”
“I have not had the pleasure,” said Robbie.
“A splendid fellow. He came with Sir Bellingham.” Leaning in to be heard, she said in a lower voice, “I believe the young ladies find him very attractive, as they do the two of you.”
“You are most kind to say so. Where is Cairo from? With a name like that, one thinks of Egypt.”
“Oh no, not so far away. I believe his family originated from Italy, but he lives in Coventry, near where my great-niece and her friend reside in Northampton. How fortuitous is that?”
“Fortuitous, indeed,” said Robbie. He would have to be more attentive to Miss Reynolds, lest she become infatuated with some man of whom The Grand Countess would not approve.
Examining the other men in attendance, Robbie wondered if any of them could be among the ones who had been following him. Such a man could have slipped into the reception as supposed friends of the invited guests. After all, Arthur Thistlewood had been a gentleman and he led the conspirators.
Chastity was engaged in conversation with Sir John and his wife Letty as the guests began to depart and Sir Robert and his uncle took their leave. Surprised to feel a sense of loss at The Rogue’s departure, she turned back to her new friends, knowing she should have been relieved he was gone.
The man had gotten under her skin with his sparkling hazel eyes and handsome face. He had even charmed her cat! Still, his constant amusement at her expense was tiresome. Without speaking a word, he could tease her unmercifully, no doubt in an attempt to remind her of their first encounter. She was not immune.
Sir John and his wife had indulged in several glasses of champagne yet they were hardly affected by the wine. Letty towered over all of the women in the parlor and half the men. Even at her age, she stood erect with the same elegant air with which she sat a horse.
Chastity inquired if Letty might like to ride again with her.
“Hell, yes. Another race if you’re up for it. Damn good jaunt the last time.” At Chastity’s happy nod, Letty said, “I can’t ride tomorrow, but perhaps the day after?”
“Indeed, yes!” She would allow Letty and a high-spirited ride to divert her thoughts from Sir Robert.
Chapter 9
The next morning, Robbie strode past the king’s stables to the green lawn in front of the dense stand of trees on the Pavilion’s grounds where he was told he might find his uncle. Narrowing his eyes, he glimpsed the sun flickering off a silver blade as it flew from Jack’s hand to lodge in a knot in the broad trunk of an old oak with a “thwack”! Another joined it seconds later. Then another. The distance was far and the accuracy deadly.
Jack never missed.
Robbie crossed the lawn to join him. “Tiller gave me your message. Why did you ask me to join you with my pistols loaded?”
“I thought we might practice.” Jack said over his shoulder as he strode to the tree and pulled the knives free.
Robbie came alongside him. “Here on the king’s grounds? Not likely.” He gestured to the large domed building some distance away crowned with a cupola. “The stables, Jack. Think of the horses. Why, Zeus and Apollo would be shrieking in their stalls were I to send off shots within their hearing. And why now? It’s not as if we need to polish our skills.” Robbie had hoped the two of them might take his curricle for a jaunt around Brighton to exercise the grays before breakfast. With the sky portending rain, he was anxious to leave.
“It occurred to me a worthy display of skill might serve to warn any who would be watching us that we are armed.”
Robbie let his gaze travel over the grove of elm trees at the edge of the lawn, so dense he could not see through the branches. If there were eyes staring back, he neither saw nor sensed them. “I suspect anyone who would plot against the king’s ministers cares not that we can d
efend ourselves. Cowards rarely face a man head on. They act with stealth, always at one’s back, waiting for the moment to strike.”
“Très bien,” said Jack, sliding his knives back to their hiding places, the last fitting neatly into his boot. “Is it your wish to ride before breakfast?”
“I thought perhaps we might exercise the grays. I asked Tiller to have a groom ready my curricle.”
“I like that idea.”
The stables were only a short walk away. When they arrived, a groom awaited Robbie alongside his curricle. The grays snorted, impatient to be off. He stroked their necks, whispering soothing words to remind them he was their master and knew well their preferences. A gentle touch helped to quiet the spirited horses but did not rob them of their eagerness to run.
Climbing into the vehicle, he slid his pistols into the compartment beneath his feet he had designed for his weapons.
“A clever hiding place,” remarked Jack as he climbed in beside Robbie.
“One never knows when a scurrilous thief will attempt a robbery. I have an extra set in my chamber.”
Robbie took great pleasure in the taut reins of his matched pair as they moved with alacrity down the Steyne and turned left onto the Marine Parade. Once there, he let the horses have their heads on the deserted stretches. The breeze from the sea smelled of salt and fish. He never tired of it, for the sea had been the smell of home for many years.
Few people were out walking this early, for those coming to Brighton from London generally kept city hours, rising late. It was rare, however, that Robbie slept to midday. His years at sea had given him the habit of greeting the sun as it rose in the sky.
Moving along at a good clip, Robbie inquired, “Did you enjoy your jaunt in my curricle with the lovely Rose Crockett?”
“Indeed, I did. She was quiet at first, but when I took off at some speed, she held on to her bonnet and laughed, her dark eyes sparkling with delight. Beneath her quiet demeanor lies a woman who dearly loves to have fun.”
“She is lovely,” said Robbie, noting the pensive look on his uncle’s face.
“I have been thinking your mother may have the right of it in urging us to find wives. My father would urge the same of me. You don’t have the need to produce an heir as I do; still, knowing how you adore your nephews, I think you will find yourself married one day. As for me, since my mother is English, a bride from England would be well accepted into the Donet family.”
“You are thinking of Miss Crockett?” asked Robbie, not realizing his uncle had been so taken with the girl.
“Let me just say that I find her reserve attractive, especially when she sets it aside. She is thoughtful and does not engage in idle chatter, and she is a great observer of people. Her remarks are often astute.”
Inclining his head to better view his uncle, he noted a wistful look in the man’s eyes. Perhaps he was smitten with the country lass. “You could do worse than a gentle country girl.”
As he turned the horses back toward the Steyne, Robbie saw folks gathering on the beach some way down the Parade. “’Tis the fish market,” he remarked. “Here’s where the early risers go.” Robbie slowed the grays as he recognized Chastity Reynolds and her friend just stepping onto the beach. “Look, Jack, ’tis Snow White and Rose Red. Shall we greet them?”
“By all means,” said Jack.
Robbie slowed the curricle to a stop.
Jack hopped down, a broad grin on his face.
Robbie tied the reins to a nearby post and took in the scene on the beach where the denizens of Brighton who had managed to rise early had flocked to buy fish. Beyond the wives of the fishermen who sat beside large baskets hawking their fish, the boats had been pulled up on shore, their nets hoisted to dry. Tiller had told Robbie that on any given day a hundred ships might return to Brighton bringing fish to the local market and beyond. From what Robbie could see, less than half that number was arrayed on the shore today.
As they approached the two women, Robbie tipped his hat, asking if he and Jack might join them.
Miss Crockett spoke with excitement. “Please do. We were just about to venture into the mass of shoppers.” Her eyes scanned the beach. “Have you ever seen so many fish?”
“On the Isle of Guernsey, certainly,” said Jack, “though mostly oyster boats and cod fishermen.”
Seeing the basket Chastity held over her arm, Robbie inquired, “Have you come to buy fish?”
“Indeed, we have.” She turned her bonneted head toward the women selling fish. “We are shopping for Lady Sanborn’s cook.”
Cries went up as the women sitting by their baskets yelled out the fish they had for sale.
Miss Crockett smiled up at him. “It seems that mackerel have come into season, Sir Robert, and the fishermen’s wives want to be certain we know of it. And just there,” she said pointing, “I see turbot.”
“Shall I help you select some good fish?” Jack asked Miss Crockett. “I think I see prawns over there.” He pointed farther down the beach.
“I would welcome your assistance,” said Chastity’s friend, “Cook said to bring back prawns if there were any to be had.”
Jack offered the girl his arm and the two strolled off toward that part of the beach. Robbie turned to Miss Reynolds with a bemused smile, wondering if she would deign to allow him to accompany her. “Is there some fish you favor?” The sky was overcast but her pale golden hair glistened beneath her straw bonnet and her bright blue eyes shone like the sky on a clear day. The peach-colored spencer jacket she wore over her morning gown brought a blush to her cheeks. Altogether, she presented an alluring sight.
“My great-aunt’s cook mentioned dories. I would be obliged if you might direct me to those. The River Nene in Northampton is not home to that fish.”
“I’m sure we can find some here as they are among the breakfast selections at the Royal Pavilion. Come,” he said, offering his arm, “let us hunt for them together.”
With what he recognized as reluctance, she took his arm. Whatever the cause, at least for this morning, she had called a truce and he was glad of it. Curling her fingers over his arm, he held them in place with his hand. The feel of her delicate hand, even through the gloves she wore, brought to mind how soft she had been when pressed against his chest the first night he’d encountered her at Grillon’s Hotel.
They passed the various impromptu stalls and wove their way around large baskets of fish set on the shingles. She gazed into each one, clearly captivated by so much on display. “I love how the vendors cry the names of the fish they have for sale. It makes the market quite lively, don’t you think?”
“’Tis one benefit of being on the coast,” he replied. “It’s the same in the South Pacific on the islands where fish and turtles are caught in great abundance.”
“Have you often sailed to the South Pacific?”
“Aye, with my father and brothers, though these days they sail mostly to the east for tea and spices.”
“It sounds exotic, like the Pavilion.”
“It can be a worthy adventure, especially for young lads as we were when my brothers and I first went to sea. On a balmy day when the sun is setting into the horizon and dolphins are leaping under the bow racing with the ship, there is no more magnificent sight. But there are other times when pounding waves crash over the deck and the weather calls for a man’s courage. My eldest brother once had to fight his way out of a hurricane in the Atlantic.”
Her frown cast her beautiful eyes in shadow. “I wouldn’t want to be on a ship then. Still, travel holds much interest for me.”
She gazed up at him with an innocence he was certain was not feigned. Her blue eyes sparkled and, for a moment, held his gaze. Then he shifted his attention to her perfectly shaped lips. Lips, he reminded himself he had once sampled. Jack’s assessment had been correct. Miss Chastity Reynolds had no idea of her effect on a man and Robbie was only beginning to realize how devastating was her effect on him.
She turned away
, her bonnet hiding her face but the peach-colored ribbons lifted in the breeze, making him want to turn her toward him to look again into her eyes. He was certain she would not welcome the gesture.
Robbie scanned the beach, spotting baskets full of dories in the distance and, taking her elbow, he guided her toward the odd-looking fish.
Suddenly, she lost her footing on the shingles and began to fall. He reached his arm around her waist, steadying her. His hands on her soft flesh caused a desire for more to sweep through him. She was slender beneath her gown and more delicate than her personality would suggest.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, righting herself. “Thank you,” she said with a flush of embarrassment.
An overwhelming need to protect her from anything that might cause her to fall surged through him. Such feelings for a woman were new to him. He tried to make light of it, returning her a wry smile while slowly letting go of her waist. “Anytime.”
“You are a scoundrel, Sir Robert. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you arranged that stumble.”
“I would never be so obvious.” But he couldn’t hide his pleasure at having had her so close. He would have more if he could.
They arrived in front of a sun-bronzed woman who sat on a stool surrounded by baskets of dory fish. On her head was a faded blue plaid scarf and around the waist of her plain gown was tied an apron, spangled with fish scales glittering like sequins.
Robbie focused on the unusual fish, flat and nearly round in shape, but with striking markings. “These are fresh caught,” he told Chastity. “You can tell by their brilliant stripes, nearly orange. In time, the color will fade.”
She pointed to the fish the woman held out for inspection. “What is that black spot in the center?” She was a child full of wonder at nature’s oddities, curious and innocent. So unlike the young women of London, who were either empty of ideas or full of simpering affectations to gain a man’s interest. He watched her, captivated.
Unwilling to let her see how enamored he was, he adopted a formal yet teasing tone. “Why, Miss Reynolds, I’ll have you know that is God’s protection against predators who mistake the spot for the fish’s eye, giving the dory time to escape.”
Rogue’s Holiday Page 12
