Pleased with their purchases, Chastity allowed Sir Robert to escort her back to the Steyne. Behind them, absorbed in conversation, walked Rose and the vicomte.
Chastity’s own conversation with Sir Robert was sparse. Again he appeared distracted, studying every person on the street, or was it just the men? That she had become so attuned to his moods she would notice such a small change annoyed her. Why should I care what concerns him? But the truth was, she did care. She wanted to know what lurked beneath his ever-charming exterior. She sensed a depth she had missed in their first encounters. She might not trust him but he intrigued her.
At her door, he bowed slightly. “A most enjoyable meeting, Miss Reynolds. I will send word tomorrow with the time we must depart for the yacht.”
Since the walk to the shore from Lady Sanborn’s house was not long, Robbie intended he and Jack would escort the ladies on foot to the place where a boat would be waiting to transport them to the king’s yacht.
As the two of them ventured forth from the Pavilion, Robbie gazed up at the summer sky, which would not see sunset for many hours. Clouds drifted lazily in a field of blue, changing shapes with the wind. “At least the weather is with us and the onshore breeze mild.”
“The ladies will be happy that dinner should see no glasses rolling on the deck.”
“Except for Lady Sanborn, I doubt the other two have sailed before,” said Robbie. “It will be a good introduction to ships for them to be on a vessel of that size.”
“The largest yacht ever built to date,” said Jack. “At least according to our breakfast waiter.”
Robbie tried to imagine the deck of the yacht he’d seen only from a distance. Its length made it the size of some of his family’s schooners.
“I’ve heard the yacht described as élégant,” said Jack.
Robbie fought a chuckle. “Prinny never does anything by half when he is decorating. I expect his yacht will be exceptional.”
They arrived at Lady Sanborn’s to find the ladies ready and excited for the dinner that lay ahead. “What a glorious evening,” said Lady Sanborn, looking very much like a flower in a brilliant orange and yellow silk gown and a feathered turban of the same colors. “The king will be so pleased.”
Ever since he’d known Chastity Reynolds, he began noticing people’s shoes. On the countess’ feet were slippers that featured a sunflower.
“I am thrilled to be going,” said Miss Crockett. “I’ve never been on a royal yacht, or any ship for that matter.”
“Très bien,” said Jack, “tonight that will change, Mademoiselle.”
Miss Crockett smiled at Jack, her brown eyes sparkling.
Robbie had to admit they made a handsome pair but what might come of it, he had no idea. Like himself, Jack was a mixture of French and English, but Jack had a poetic, romantic side Robbie lacked. And Jack had another side that insisted on the utmost propriety. Robbie seldom gave lip-service to propriety unless it was for the benefit of others.
Chastity Reynolds, in her frothy sea green gown reminded him of a decoration on a marchpane-covered cake. Delectable enough to make him want to taste her.
As they made to depart, the red-haired butler held out her shawl. Robbie took it from him and draped it over her shoulders, brushing his fingers over her warm skin as he did so. A slight shiver accompanied his touch. Good. He liked to keep her off balance. She had the strength of character to easily dominate a man, but she’d not be happy if he allowed her to rule him.
The huge black cat that had previously been his enemy ambled down the stairs and rubbed its body against Robbie’s boots, meowing loudly.
“Is that your cat, Miss Reynolds?” said Jack. “I have yet to meet him.”
“Yes,” she said, watching the cat with a frown, “though you might not know it to observe his lavish display of affection for Sir Robert.” She tightened her paisley shawl around her shoulders and looked down at the cat. “Traitor!”
A chuckle escaped Lady Sanborn. “It seems the knight has tamed the dragon, dear.”
Jack laughed and reached down to scratch the cat behind its ears. “Hardly a menace, Nephew.”
“To my great relief,” said Robbie, “Crispin has become a devoted follower.” Robbie couldn’t decide if the cat’s new affection for him was a good thing when there was a distinct possibility the animal might soon be licking his boots, the same boots Tiller had spent hours cleaning and polishing.
Robbie consulted his pocket watch. “It’s time we were off.”
As they set off down the Steyne, Robbie’s spirits rose to think he would soon be standing on a ship’s deck. It might be anchored in the harbor but a ship that size was familiar territory.
The captain’s gig was waiting for them where the water met the shore. In the distance, he glimpsed the Royal George at anchor, its three masts rising high above the hundred-foot deck. Above the main mast flew the Royal Standard. Instead of gun ports, thirteen large windows marched along the side of the hull overlapping the ocher-colored strake.
Other guests of the king had already gathered, including Lord Alvanley, Sir Bellingham and his wife Harriet, Lady Graham, and Henry Cairo, the gentleman from Coventry who designed timepieces. Citizens of Brighton stopped to ogle the Royal George and the passengers waiting to be taken aboard.
“The marchioness and Sir John and Letty are already aboard,” Alvanley informed them. He turned and climbed into the gig after Sir Bellingham and his wife.
Robbie offered his hand first to Miss Reynolds to help her into the boat, but she declined. “Please assist my great-aunt first, if you will.”
“Of course.” As he was helping Lady Sanborn, Henry Cairo offered his hand to Chastity Reynolds and proceeded to assist her into the boat where he quickly claimed the seat beside her. Robbie’s brow furrowed with his displeasure.
He waited for Jack to help Miss Crockett over the gunwale and take a seat beside her on one of the forward benches. Seeing the other guests had claimed seats, Robbie climbed in and gave the bow oarsman a nod of polite acknowledgment as he joined him on the forward-most bench. The oarsman tugged his forelock in a gesture of respect.
Robbie sat with his back to the bow like the boat’s crew so he could watch the passengers, one in particular. Cairo leaned close to Miss Reynolds to whisper something in her ear that made her cheeks flame. Robbie pressed his lips together, resisting the temptation to throw him over the side.
The crew took to the oars and soon they were looking up at the yacht’s black hull. The crew shipped the oars and waited as a bos’n’s chair, rigged to the end of a spar, was lowered to the gig to allow the ladies and anyone else who wanted to use the chair to be hoisted onto the main deck. It was evident to Robbie that the crew had done this many times for the king and his friends, because they executed the maneuver with flawless efficiency.
He watched Chastity Reynolds, wondering what her reaction would be. He smiled to himself when she quite happily slipped into the chair and beamed her joy as she was sent aloft, like a child experiencing her first swing. Her friend, however, was a bit skittish until Jack convinced her it was safe and, though it swung about, would not dump her into the sea.
Except for Robbie and Jack, the men who had come with them also ascended to the deck via the chair. It was certainly the easier path, but where was the fun in that?
When the others were securely onboard, Robbie said to Jack, “Our turn,” and grabbed the knotted manrope hanging next to the steep boarding steps built into the side of the ship. Even as a boy, his father had expected him to scale the steps. Had he not learned quickly, his older brothers would have ridiculed him.
As he began climbing, he looked up to see Miss Reynolds peering down at him from the rail, her eyes wide and her brows uplifted. He smiled to himself. If this impressed her, he could show her more.
Like Robbie, Jack was accustomed to climbing the rigging, so he grabbed the manrope and followed Robbie up the steps and through the cutout in the gunwale to join him on
deck.
Letty, standing nearby, let out one of her famous oaths. “Hell and damnation, Powell. If only I had on breeches, I would have joined you.”
Robbie grinned. “I do believe you would.”
Letty turned on her heels and strode off toward her husband, grumbling about the restrictions of a lady’s attire.
The king, who, with his mistress, was in the process of welcoming his guests, left them to cross the deck to Robbie and Jack, a satisfied smile on his face. On his chest, the king wore the ribbon and Star of the Order of the Garter. “I might have known you two would come up the side. Well done!”
Chastity felt the yacht shift with the incoming tide as she watched the king greet Sir Robert. By all appearances, they were on very familiar terms. Not for the first time, she wondered what The Rogue had done to earn the king’s favor and a baronetcy. The hereditary honor had sometimes been awarded to returning soldiers who had distinguished themselves in the war with France. He would have been in his mid-twenties then. Perhaps it was something to do with a battle on the sea that helped defeat England’s enemy. Jack had mentioned their fathers had been privateers. Yet neither of them was called “Sir”. The vicomte’s father had been the comte de Saintonge even before the French Revolution and Aunt Agatha had referred to Sir Robert’s father as Mr. Powell.
She and Rose stood next to the rail as Aunt Agatha crossed the immaculately clean deck toward them. “Come, dears. Lady Conyngham is asking the ladies to go below.” Then as a gleeful aside, “We’re to dine in His Majesty’s great cabin!”
Chastity followed her great-aunt and the other women, wondering what a “great cabin” looked like. Over her shoulder, she glimpsed the men, Sir Robert among them, lingering behind, talking with the king. Of what did they speak? Possibly something more interesting than the women would offer.
She paused at the companionway leading to the lower deck. The polished mahogany with its gilt moldings was something she would have expected in a fine townhouse in Mayfair. She thought it opulent for a seagoing vessel but then, this was Prinny’s own and, if the Pavilion was any example, the king never scrimped when spending the government’s money.
“Mind your head, Miss,” a sailor cautioned, as Chastity stepped onto the ladder leading down. “You will find the ladder is wider than the ordinary by the king’s orders.”
The angle of descent was still uncommonly steep to Chastity’s mind and, though there was another sailor at its base, she would have to transverse the length of it alone. As Rose was behind her, Chastity wanted to show courage, for her friend was already looking peaked. Turning to face the ladder, she braced herself with one hand on the side rail while lifting her gown with the other, and carefully made her way down.
It was the first time she had been on a large vessel of any kind. The small boats they used in the summer on the River Nene in Northampton for fishing and pleasure were half the size of the boat that had conveyed them to the yacht.
Relief flooded her as her feet touched the deck. She looked up and encouraged her friend, “’Tis not hard, Rose. Just go slowly.”
Rose had decided to descend with her back to the ladder. Halfway down, the sailor reached for Rose’s hand. “Here, Miss, let me assist you.”
Rose accepted with a grateful smile.
The great cabin where they were to dine occupied the entire stern from side to side. The panel work in the cabin was carved in a dark wood with gilt moldings.
The windows, both stern and side, were of plate glass, flooding the cabin with light. Through the clear glass, she glimpsed the water on three sides with the shore beyond. Above, a skylight shed more light, illuminating a Brussels carpet beneath Chastity’s feet.
A ship’s lantern hanging from the skylight added a glow to the long mahogany table that was set for fourteen. White china, banded in gold and imprinted with the royal arms, made a regal statement. Chastity had never seen a table setting so fine except for that in the Pavilion. Crystal glasses for water, wine and cordial were set at each place.
The chairs surrounding the table were covered in red velvet casing, in addition to which ottomans and sofas were placed about the large cabin.
On a sideboard, decanters of liquor filled a polished wooden box, the kind that could be secured when at sea.
Against one side of the great cabin, to her amazement, stood a pianoforte.
“My, but this is lovely,” Aunt Agatha remarked to the dark-haired Lady Conyngham bedecked with jewels for the evening. To Chastity’s chagrin, neither lady had experienced difficulty navigating the ladder. It gave her some comfort to realize her great-aunt was always up for an adventure and likely had sailed before, and the king’s mistress had doubtless descended those same steps many times.
The king and the gentlemen joined them shortly. The steward poured the king and each of the guests a drink of their preference. Chastity accepted a glass of sherry. A musician slid onto the bench at the pianoforte and began to play.
Brandy in hand, Sir Robert came to her side, very handsome in his dark green coat and ivory satin waistcoat over buff-colored breeches. When he had arrived at her door, she had been surprised at how glad she was to see him. “What do you think of the king’s yacht, Miss Reynolds?”
“It displays the same opulence as the Pavilion, yet I never would have imagined so elegant a dining room was down here.”
“His Majesty likes to travel in style. I can assure you, my family’s ships are not so magnificent belowdecks. More functional, I would say.”
“The difference between a merchant and a king?”
His white teeth flashed a smile. “Just so.”
The king spoke from where he stood at the head of the table. “Allow me to suggest a seating arrangement. My lady,” he said to his mistress, “here on my right, as always. Alvanley,” the king continued, “on my left, if you will, and Lady Sanborn next to you. At her side, let’s have Sir Robert and then Miss Crockett, Mr. Cairo and Lady Lade. Across from Lady Sanborn, next to my lady, I would suggest Sir Bellingham, Miss Reynolds, Monsieur Donet, Lady Graham and Sir John. At the end of the table opposite me will be our captain, Sir Edward Berry, who I have asked to join us. Along with Admiral Nelson, he is remembered as a ‘Hero of the Nile’. Welcome, Captain.”
Sir Edward, standing behind his chair, erect in his dark blue uniform with gold braid and brass buttons, white waistcoat and pantaloons, inclined his gray head to the king. “It is my honor, Your Majesty.”
Chastity judged him to be in his fifties. No longer at the side of Lord Nelson, who was long dead, the captain nevertheless appeared to have a lively interest in everything around him. His blue eyes shone with the pride of having served his king and country with distinction.
The king beckoned them to take their seats, and the gentlemen promptly assisted the ladies. On Chastity’s right, the vicomte pulled out her chair for her. Once seated, she found herself meeting the amused gaze of The Rogue directly across from her. He looked very pleased with himself, as if he’d arranged their seating with the king. It vexed her to think he could rattle her with only a look from those stunning hazel eyes.
The first course was a white soup, well seasoned and tasting of chicken in cream. Chastity did not lift her head as she bent to dip her spoon for she felt Sir Robert’s eyes still fixed on her. Seductive charm such as his should be kept under lock and key.
“How was your time in London?” Lord Alvanley asked the king.
Prinny huffed. “Clouded by the hanging of those ‘desperate fools’ as Lord Byron has called them, the ‘awkward butchers’ who would see my ministers dead.” He gave Sir Robert a knowing look. “Still, we can be glad justice is done and they are gone from this world, eh?” He raised his glass of champagne and proposed a toast to the demise of all those who plotted treason.
Chastity sipped her champagne, wondering what had passed between the king and his subject. It had to be some knowledge they shared about the Cato Street debacle she had only read about in the newspape
rs.
“It is good to have you back in Brighton, Sire,” said Aunt Agatha, gracefully changing the subject. “The town mourns your going and celebrates your return.”
The king smiled, his cheeks reddening. “How gracious of you to say so, my lady.”
“Will you open the Brighton races?” asked Sir Bellingham.
“Indeed, I will,” said the king. “And soon.”
The soup bowls were taken away and the fish course promptly served.
“My cook has prepared this dory fish a new way,” said the king. “With mussels, spinach and apples. Appears appetizing enough, don’t you agree? But do give me your good opinions.”
Chastity raised her eyes to catch a glimpse of Sir Robert, an expression of mirth on his face as he glanced at the fish just placed on his plate. She had eaten dory fish more than once since their morning at the fish market.
“The fish is excellent,” said Sir Bellingham. His wife, Lady Graham, nodded her agreement. In truth, Chastity liked mussels so she was quite happy to see them paired with the fish and its delicate flavor.
Henry Cairo was speaking with Rose when the king addressed him. “Mr. Cairo, I understand from Lady Sanborn you are a master of timepieces. What have you to say?”
“My family business in Coventry, Your Majesty, is making fine watches and clocks, some quite unusual with painted faces.”
“Painted faces, you say? You must come ’round to the Pavilion and show us some. We can always use more clocks to track the hours. Might you have some with a Chinese theme?”
Henry Cairo directed his comment to the king at the other end of the table. “I can paint anything on the face of a timepiece, Sire, including a scene from China, if that be your desire.”
“Ah! So, you are the artist?”
“I am.”
“Have him show you his pocket watch,” put in Aunt Agatha. “Truly extraordinary.”
Rogue’s Holiday Page 15
