Rogue’s Holiday

by Walker, Regan

  “Tomorrow, then,” said the king to Mr. Cairo. Turning his attention to the vicomte, the king said, “Monsieur Donet, did you travel from France to holiday with Sir Robert?”

  “My family has vineyards in France, Your Majesty,” he added with a smile. “There we make fine cognac. But my home is on Guernsey. I frequently travel between the isle and England as my uncle is the Earl of Torrington and his estate is in West Sussex.”

  At his statement, Rose’s eyes widened and she cast a glance at Chastity, who nodded briefly, pleased. Her friend’s father could hardly object to a suitor who was the nephew of an English earl.

  “I know Richard well,” replied the king. “He and I have weathered together many battles in Parliament.” The king stared at his wine glass as he rotated it in his hand. “The earl was a great friend of Prime Minister Pitt before he died. Pitt was a devoted Tory who gave to England the years God gave him.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Lord Alvanley. “Well said.”

  Chastity remembered her father saying that Pitt and his friend, the king, as well as Alvanley, were all Tories.

  Cold sliced lamb followed the fish course. Chastity, already feeling full, took very small bites and sipped her wine sparingly. She observed her great-aunt, across the table, did the same.

  The king lifted his wine to his lips and inquired of Aunt Agatha if her great-niece and her friend were enjoying themselves.

  “Oh, Lord yes. You were kind enough to invite them to the Pavilion, which they thoroughly enjoyed and, since then, they have indulged in riding, shopping and sea bathing.”

  Across the table, Sir Robert’s dark brows rose in question. Did he wonder if she bathed without clothes? She indulged in a small smile. Let him wonder.

  “Did you enjoy the seawaters?” the king asked Chastity.

  “I did, Your Majesty. Very…ah, stimulating.” Though Chastity could tell Rose was less enthusiastic, she managed a nod in the king’s direction.

  “Sea bathing in only one’s skin can be diverting,” remarked Letty, from where she sat on the captain’s right. This caused Lord Alvanley to sputter into his wine and Sir John to chuckle.

  “I would expect nothing less of you, dear Letty,” said the king.

  “I prefer to wait until warmer weather to sea bathe,” said Marchioness Conyngham. Chastity gave the king’s mistress a sideways glance, admiring her necklace of emeralds and diamonds, sparkling in the lantern’s light. The necklace was dazzling. But at what price? What means honor when a king can take another man’s wife to his bed with impunity. Prinny had done so more than once, but what husband would defy the king?

  Under her lashes, Chastity sneaked a glance at The Rogue. She had never learned the outcome of his flirting that night at the Pavilion with the married Countess Lieven but he expressed no disapproval of the open invitation in the countess’ seductive eyes conveyed over her fan at the concert. The king and his subject, she reminded herself, were much alike.

  Lady Graham on the other side of the vicomte, availed herself of a pause in the conversation to ask the captain if he and the king’s yacht would be in Brighton for some time.

  “I serve at the king’s pleasure,” said Captain Berry, nodding in the king’s direction. “But were I to guess, I would say unless the king is called back to London, we’ll be here for the summer.”

  That seemed to please the guests near enough to hear the comment.

  Sweetmeats followed dinner. The king and the men indulged in several glasses of port, the king reminding all it had been the favored drink of William Pitt.

  Lord Alvanley made a toast in his honor. “To a man who served his country well!”

  As they rose from the table, Sir Robert came to her side. “Do you have a hankering to sail?”

  “Indeed, I do. Being on a yacht, especially a large one such as this, while in the harbor is grand, but to feel the wind on my face and the billowing sails above me would be grander still.” Chastity had no fear of seasickness, and doubted Rose had any as they had ridden together in a closed carriage from Northampton to London over rocks and through mud with no ill effect.

  His hazel eyes sparkled. “I shall keep that in mind should my ship’s course divert to Brighton.”

  Chapter 11

  The king wasted no time in bringing the social whirl back to Brighton. It was as if all of London realized the place to be was the seaside town and, wishing to be seen among fashionable company, flocked there in great numbers. This made Robbie’s job of discovering the hiding place of the conspirators’ friends more difficult. Several attempts had produced no results.

  Meanwhile, horse racing had begun in earnest. Robbie and Jack attended each afternoon, wagering with Alvanley, Sir Bellingham and Sir John. On occasion, the king joined in, adding to the atmosphere of celebration. Sir Bellingham’s guest, Henry Cairo, made several appearances. That is, when he wasn’t pursuing Lady Sanborn’s great-niece and her friend. His calling on the two young women had become a frequent event.

  One afternoon, Robbie had glimpsed the clockmaker strolling down the Steyne with Miss Reynolds and her friend. A wave of jealousy had swept over him. It was an entirely new experience, one he did not enjoy.

  Each Monday, the Castle and Old Ship Inns hosted balls. He and Jack attended a few and, each time, encountered a bevy of young women looking for husbands; however, Miss Reynolds had not been in attendance. Robbie thought the evenings greatly diminished by her absence. The brilliant spark she added to any gathering was missing.

  “Perhaps it is time we paid Snow White and Rose Red a visit,” he said to Jack at breakfast as he pushed his eggs about his plate with his fork, thinking of some excuse to look in on his “Ward for the Brighton Season”, as Lady Claremont had called her.

  Jack paused, holding his coffee between his hands. “I am not opposed to the idea. What did you have in mind?”

  “I am certain Lady Sanborn would insist the two young women attend church on Sunday. Though I’m not sure which one is her preference, the closest to Lady Sanborn’s residence is the Chapel Royal. We might offer to escort them to the service.”

  Jack grinned mischievously. “You devil.”

  Undaunted, Robbie sent an invitation to Lady Sanborn offering to accompany the three ladies to the Chapel Royal that Sunday. Robbie’s mother, Claire Donet, had been raised a Catholic in France but, after her marriage to Simon Powell, she had become a devout Methodist. Thus, she had insisted her sons attend church. Even on their ships, a service of sorts was held on Sundays, officiated by the captain, which, in some instances, had been Robbie. He smiled to himself, trying to imagine what Miss Reynolds would think of that.

  As he returned to his chamber to dress for dinner, Tiller approached with a sealed message. “This just arrived, Cap’n.”

  Robbie thanked him and broke the familiar seal. With more anticipation than he might have expected, he unfolded the single sheet. Lady Sanborn’s script elegantly conveyed her short reply. “We’d be delighted. You may call for us a quarter hour before ten o’clock.”

  “A rogue in church?” Chastity asked her great-aunt, intrigued. “Whatever for? Penance?” She poured Aunt Agatha and Rose more tea, then subsided onto the sofa, lifting her cup to her lips.

  “Perhaps that is the best place for a rogue,” said Aunt Agatha, leaning forward to take a biscuit from the silver tray. “If indeed Sir Robert is a rogue.” With a pensive expression, she added, “As I recall, the king used to attend the Chapel Royal until several years ago when the curate preached a sermon titled, ‘Thou art the man’. You can well imagine Prinny’s reaction.”

  “I know that story from the Bible,” said Rose, a small bite of pastry lifted on her fork. “Wasn’t that the one where the prophet confronted King David for taking another man’s wife?”

  “Indeed, it was,” said Aunt Agatha. “Though David did worse than that. He ordered the husband into the front line of battle to be killed. Of course, he eventually repented of the deed and God forgave him. But
there were consequences.”

  “I don’t think King George has repented,” said Chastity. “He’s still taking other men’s wives to his bed. But there is the consequence that he is left without a legitimate heir.”

  Her great-aunt’s eyes took on a sad look. “The death of his only child, Princess Charlotte, was a tragedy, for her husband, who loved her, and for England. Had she lived, one day she would have been queen.”

  “So one rogue has forsaken Sunday services while another takes his place. How fitting it should be Sir Robert.” Chastity tried to imagine sitting with The Rogue in church and failed.

  “I think you are too harsh on Sir Robert,” her great-aunt gently chided. “He has been nothing but a gentleman as far as I have seen.”

  Chastity didn’t want to stoop to gossip, even if it was based on her own observations, nor would she tell Aunt Agatha about their first encounter, so she did what any proper lady would do. She took a sip of her tea and conceded politely her great-aunt might have a point.

  Robbie gazed up at the tall, highly decorated pulpit as the singing ended and the reading from the Old Testament began. The five of them took up an entire pew in the spacious and lofty Chapel Royal at the corner of North Street and Prince’s Place. The church near the Pavilion had been designed to encourage royal attendees. It had thus far failed in that mission if the current king was any example.

  Robbie sat on the aisle with Miss Reynolds next to him. Lady Sanborn had placed herself between her charges and Jack was on the other side of Miss Crockett. Altogether, given the limited space, it was a cozy arrangement, one that Robbie favored. Chastity Reynolds’ faint scent of flowers drifted to his nostrils and her warmth burned into his sleeve and breeches where their bodies touched ever so slightly.

  “Our reading from the Old Testament today is from Proverbs 31,” intoned Reverend Wagner. As he began to read, Robbie turned to glance at the profile of The Girl Who Needed Watching. Indeed, she did. Inclined to adventure, even mischief. He imagined her bathing naked in the waters off Brighton, her golden hair wet and flowing behind her. He was certain, like Letty, Chastity Reynolds would have foregone any kind of bathing attire. Rather than the frigid waters off Brighton, he preferred to think of her swimming in a warm lagoon on some distant shore, far from the stuffy atmosphere of the ton. There, he would show her the ways of love.

  An elbow jabbed into his ribs and her whispered “Woolgathering?” jarred Robbie out of his reverie.

  “Who can find a virtuous woman?” the good reverend went on. “For her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.”

  Robbie pondered the advice of King Solomon. Such a woman was just the kind he wanted to begin the legacy he had in mind. He shifted his gaze to Miss Reynolds and allowed a subtle smile to cross his face. Ah, yes, a virtuous woman. Fair of face with an intelligent mind and an unusual creative talent. And she was kind, putting others before herself. In his experience, there was no other woman like her. Chastity Reynolds might not know it now, but, one day, she would be his. And once he had set upon a course of action, he saw it to the end.

  Augie left the chapel well ahead of the swell and returned to report to the others. “Ings returns tomorrow,” he said as he studied the alley from the window in their upper story lodgings. “He’ll want to hear about what I saw today.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought ye’d be steppin’ into a church,” said Pete, “not after the nights ye’ve been keepin’ with the tavern wenches. Didn’t ye fear bein’ struck dead?”

  Augie gave him a reproachful glance. “Are ye daft? No one questions a sinner’s right to attend services. ’Tis expected. My head might have been hurtin’ after last night’s ale, but I wanted to watch him with her in that place.”

  “And what did ye see?” inquired Duffy, running his fingers through his red hair. The man’s hair had always been a concern to Augie; it didn’t blend well with the rest of the guvnor’s men who could melt into a crowd in a moment. His concern had grown when Duffy returned one afternoon with a tale of being followed.

  “Powell and the chit were close as two peas in a pod, sneakin’ looks at each other while the parson was speakin’. She’s the one, all right.”

  Pete sneered, a nasty flicker in his dark eyes. “We’ll have to be watchin’ for a chance to nab her.” Augie stared at the man, who concerned him as much as Duffy. He didn’t trust Pete to follow orders. Somewhere he had a screw loose.

  “We’ll not touch her until Ings is here,” Augie said in a tone that brooked no dissent.

  “I see the two of you have received several invitations from gentlemen of good report with whom you might attend the king’s Fancy Ball,” Aunt Agatha said excitedly. “I shall act as chaperone, of course. So, who will be the fortunate men?”

  Chastity shuffled through the messages Featherstone had handed her on the salver. “Alvanley, Cairo, some gentleman I barely recall from the reception and then there is this one, Rose. An invitation for the two of us to attend with Sir Robert and M’sieur Donet.”

  “I, too, have a collection of gentlemen offering to escort me,” said Rose, looking up from the pile in her lap with a happy expression. “All are gentlemen I met at your reception, Lady Sanborn. While I would be please to attend with any of them, I would prefer to go with Chas.”

  “Then the decision is made, yes?” Aunt Agatha lifted her brows as she faced them.

  Chastity could not deny Rose a chance to spend the evening with a very fine suitor like the vicomte, especially when she herself had looked with favor on the invitation from Sir Robert. “Very well. I agree.”

  “Now that you have decided on your escorts, you must consider costumes. Having been to His Majesty’s Fancy Balls before, I can tell you all manner of beings will populate the Music Room, so you have many ideas to choose from. If gowns from an earlier age appeal, the attic holds many.”

  “What fun!” exclaimed Rose. “I love looking through clothes from the time when ladies dressed in elaborate fashion.”

  “Not me,” said Chastity with a grin. “I’ve an idea to wear a sheet.”

  “A bed-sheet?” inquired Rose, incredulous.

  “My dear great-niece, whatever is your intention?”

  “I would dress as a Grecian goddess.” Seeing their confused expressions, she explained, “Oh, I shall be fully clothed in a white gown, a toga, I think they are called.”

  “That was the dress of the Roman men, dear,” said Aunt Agatha.

  “Well, you know what I mean,” said Chastity, “and I’d add a golden shawl.”

  “You can adapt a toga-like gown to your purpose,” said Aunt Agatha. “And we can do better than a bed-sheet. Such a simple style can be made in a few days. We will go to my favorite dressmaker and see about it. And for you, Rose, a trip to the attic is in order. You will look lovely in a silk brocade gown I had made a score of years ago. It was the earl’s favorite and very lavish. I think it just may fit you as I was considerably more slender then.”

  That afternoon, after a visit to the dressmaker and an excursion to the attic with Aunt Agatha and Rose, Chastity sat down to write polite rejections to the invitations she had received, all except for the one from Sir Robert and M’sieur Donet.

  Sir Robert, Monsieur Donet,

  My dear friend, Miss Crockett, and my great-aunt, Lady Sanborn, and I are pleased to accept your kind invitation to accompany you to His Majesty’s Fancy Ball. In truth, we quite look forward to it and are planning our costumes!

  Sincerely yours,

  Chastity Reynolds

  Robbie smiled at the note and looked up to meet Jack’s inquisitive gaze. “I daresay we were lucky to be the ones they accepted. I know for a fact Alvanley was hoping to take Miss Reynolds. But since each of the two young women needs a chaperone and there is only Lady Sanborn, our invitation to them both had an advantage.”

  “Except fo
r Cairo, who must have sent them an invitation as well. Since he will most certainly be attending with Sir Bellingham and his wife, Lady Graham, there is a chaperone in that group.”

  “So there is. Yet still we prevailed. Obviously, Miss Reynolds is coming to see the wisdom of my suit.”

  “Is that what it is? I rather thought you and she were at odds most of the time.”

  “She resists my charm, ’tis true, but she is not indifferent to me. It’s just that she finds it easier to speak of my faults rather than to admit a growing fondness for one she believes to be a rake. Only consider her cat, who now welcomes me with contented purring. Miss Reynolds, too, will come to see she is fated to love me.”

  “Love?” Jack coughed a laugh. “I wish you well with that venture, Nephew, though I have my doubts. Meanwhile, what costume will you be wearing for the king’s ball?”

  “Whatever we choose, the costumes must allow for weapons. I am not at all sanguine that only the king’s guests will attend. Such an event is likely to attract the men who mean me harm. I thought of a pasha, complete with turban and bejeweled sword. I expect there is such a costume to be had in Brighton where masked balls occur fairly often, but it might prove cumbersome. Then another thought came to me…from the fairy tale I told you about. Why not a bear?”

  “If you do that, should I go as the mad dwarf who stole the prince’s gold?”

  With a smirk, Robbie said, “That would hardly win the heart of your lady, the fair Rose Red.”

  “I’d rather go as a chevalier, now that I think on it. Ladies like knights and such a costume would provide an excuse to take my long knives.”

  “On second thought,” said Robbie, shaking his head, “I’m afraid we cannot don either. With the chainmail and the helmet in the heat of the Pavilion, you’d roast. And I cannot go as a bear. There would be no good place to hide my pistols and ’twould be like wearing a rug. I would suffocate.”

  Jack sighed. “You are right. I could never endure a knight’s armor as hot as the king keeps the Pavilion. However, it might do for me to go as the pirate my father once was, dressed all in black with a sword at my side, all my knives tucked inside my clothing and one of your pistols secured at my belt. What say you to that?”