The woman’s eyes were kind and her manner sincere, so Chastity decided to disregard the warning she’d been given. If he never knew, then he would not harm Sir Robert because of her. Tears flowing from her eyes, she said, “Please do not tell him I have told you this, for he threatened to kill a friend of mine if I did. I know he would do it, too.”
The woman nodded.
“It was horrible. I was at a costume ball in Brighton where he and his hired brutes abducted me. I had gone to the gardens for a bit of cool air and three of them came out of the trees, grabbed me and stuffed me into a carriage.”
“Poor dear, you must have been terribly frightened.”
“I believed they would rape me. Then I feared they would kill me, but it seems they only meant to shame and ruin me. I tried to escape and, for that, I was beaten.”
“I see the bruises on your face. We can tend them. Meanwhile, did they—”
“No…no, I was spared rape, thank God.” Chastity’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment at having to discuss such a possibility.
“I see,” said Miss Abby, her eyes full of pity. “As you might imagine, I have heard such tales before. Not every young woman brought to me arrives unscathed, I am sad to say. Was the man who abducted you the man who brought you here?”
“Yes.”
Miss Abby went to the sideboard and poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. “A few sips will do you good.”
Chastity sipped the rich red wine. It calmed her frayed nerves. Now that it seemed she was safe, she could not stop shivering.
“Have you eaten?”
She shook her head.
The woman went to a tasseled bell pull and summoned a footman. “See that some food is brought for our young guest, Raymond. Some cheese, bread and fruit and tea. And ask Emma to bring the basket of salves.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the footman before retreating.
“Now then,” said Miss Abby. “Let us sit and you can tell me what happened.”
Finally experiencing relief, Chastity drew Sir Robert’s cloak around her and began to recount all that had befallen her since her arrival in London.
The woman’s face took on a look of grave concern. “For your sake, I will tell the man who brought you that you did not object to entering my house and that I have decided to accept you. He will think you are joining my ladies, but it will not be so.”
“Oh, thank you,” Chastity said, tears of relief cascading down her bruised cheeks.
The woman handed her a handkerchief. “Here, dry your eyes.”
Chastity gratefully accepted it.
“Perhaps it would help you to know that I did not seek to become the madam of a bordello and I take my responsibility to the young women here seriously. A distant uncle bequeathed Willow House to me when my position as governess to two young women ended. I always had a tender for girls in trouble and my reputation for showing them kindness drew to me young beauties who wanted a safe place away from the bawdy houses of Covent Garden or worse. Any girl who comes to me wishing for a different life is helped on her way, some to domestic service, and those who are educated to more. Only the most beautiful, well-spoken and gracious are allowed to join those who live and work at Willow House, if that is their desire and there is an opening. Some of those eventually find a relationship with a particular man.”
Chastity felt safe for the first time since she’d been taken. “Thank God that horrible man brought me to you.”
Miss Abby patted her hand. “He is not aware of my reputation. He knows only that Willow House is the most elegant brothel in London, which it is. Members of the ton and their wealthy friends are our only clientele.”
The food arrived and Miss Abby urged her to eat, which she did, surprisingly hungry all of a sudden. The maid, Emma, entered with a basket and came to apply salve to her face. “Poor thing and ye have such beautiful skin, too.”
The kind madam poured tea. “While you are eating, I will dispense with the man.” She handed Chastity a cup of tea.
“What will you tell him?”
Miss Abby gave her a knowing smile. “Why, that you are beautiful and intelligent and will fit in perfectly with the ladies of Willow House.” She looked at Chastity’s bare feet. “Emma, find Miss Reynolds a decent gown and some shoes.”
Robbie was growing desperate and exhausted. His eyes burned for lack of sleep but he had no intention of stopping. As a spy he had, at times, forced himself to go on little or no sleep. He would do so now to find Chastity.
He and Jack had spent all day searching only to find Chastity was not in any of the bordellos they had visited, unless the madams had lied which, all things considered, might be a possibility. A young woman of Chastity’s quality would be a prize they would not easily surrender.
He glanced at Jack, recognizing the lines of fatigue but knowing he would never complain so great was their mission. Robbie had decided to stop at The Guardsman public house for food before going on. As they entered, he smelled the familiar scent of ale and smoke. The light from several large paned windows fell across a dozen scattered wooden tables, half of them occupied with customers.
“I’ve never been here,” said Jack. “A recent favorite?”
“Until last year, my twin brother and I were frequent customers. It was once home to the First Regiment of Foot Guards and only in recent years has become a public house. Were he not in Brighton, you might glimpse the Duke of Wellington raising a pint with the fellows at the bar.”
Robbie and Jack claimed a corner table where they could talk undisturbed. It was still late afternoon so many tables were yet to be filled. The air smelled of the fare one found in a tavern. They ordered coffee and mutton stew, which arrived with bread and cheese.
“I’m famished,” said Jack, breaking off a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese and stuffing them into his mouth.
Robbie lifted a mouthful of stew to his lips as Sam, the rotund proprietor in his fifties, came to their table. He waited until Robbie swallowed. “’Tis good, isn’t it?”
Robbie nodded. “Very good.”
“My Amy’s been makin’ it fresh each day. Can I get ye anythin’ else, Powell?” As an aside, he added, “I won’t be askin’ which one ye are as I could never tell ye and yer brother apart.”
“It’s Robbie.” He was about to tell the man they were fine with what they had when he thought to ask, “Sam, can you think of a high-class brothel in London where one can find exceptional women?”
“Oh, ho! Are ye askin’ for yerself or yer friend?”
“Neither, however, it’s an urgent matter of great importance.”
Sam nodded. “I don’t look for other women with my Amy to come home to, but I do recall ye once speakin’ in glowin’ terms about a place named after a tree.”
Robbie screwed up his face in concentration, his weary mind grasping for what he had missed. “A tree?”
“Aye. I can’t remember the name.”
“Willow House!” Robbie exclaimed, the name suddenly coming into his mind.
“That’s the one.”
“Bless you, Sam. Based upon what we were looking for, that name had quite slipped my mind. But ’tis a possibility.”
Jack dove into his stew.
Sam walked away and Robbie’s mood picked up. “I can’t imagine they would be foolish enough to take Chastity to Willow House. Abigail Darkin has a reputation as a kind-hearted madam who helps girls in distress. She would see through a ruse in a trice. But she might be able to help us. She’ll know where they may have taken Chastity.”
Robbie had lost his appetite for anything but finding the woman he loved. “Finish up; we must be off to Willow House.”
Chastity stood before the fireplace in the bedchamber Miss Abby had given her, looking into the flames burning cheerfully. She was finally warm after being chilled for so long. Light from the paned windows flowed into the room. The furnishings, like the parlor, were tasteful in shades of green, the bed hangings silk. Above the mantel was a
painting of a great lady of an earlier century.
A thousand things ran through her mind as she waited for the gown the maid, Emma, had gone to retrieve. As much as she had once loved her costume, Chastity had gladly shed it when she’d been given a hot bath and a robe. She had not allowed them to take Sir Robert’s cloak but had laid it carefully across the chair.
She had narrowly escaped a terrible fate and thanked God it was to Willow House she’d been taken. But what about Sir Robert? He, too, was in danger. Was he, even now, searching for her? The man who had abducted her said he intended to deal with him. She could not bear for her rogue to be hurt, or worse.
Emma burst into the bedchamber. “Here you are, Miss. This is one of the new gowns Miss Abby just received from the dressmaker. She said you might have it. And there are slippers to match!”
“That is so very kind of her,” said Chastity, taking the gown from the maid and holding it up to her. “She has been my savior.” Chastity did not doubt her reputation was in tatters as word would spread throughout Brighton she was missing, if not kidnapped. But at least her innocence and her life had been preserved. It could have been so much worse.
The maid helped her to don the gown of pale blue silk, pulling the laces taut. The slippers were a little large but fit well enough. “Thank you, Emma. Should I go down?”
“Oh, no, Miss. The young ladies will soon be gathering in the parlor and the gentlemen will arrive after that. You wouldn’t want to let them see you. I will bring up a tray and some wine for you. Tomorrow, Miss Abby will find a way to return you to Brighton.”
Aunt Agatha would be frantic with worry. Rose, too, would be frightened, thinking the worst. “I do appreciate your lady’s help,” she told the maid.
“Miss Abby likes to help. You might find some books on those shelves to enjoy,” Emma said, pointing to a bookcase on the far side of the chamber. “I will return soon.”
Chastity went to the shelf of books, novels every one, and took a likely one from the selection. “Sense and Sensibility sounds like a book I should read,” she said, chiding herself for the predicament she was in. It was all those hours she had spent with Sir Robert that had made her a target of a madman’s vengeance. And, in the Pavilion’s gardens, she had succumbed to his kiss. Perhaps if she’d had more sense, none of this would have happened.
Robbie leapt up the short set of stairs to the front door he had stood before at other times when pleasure had been his only purpose. He was vaguely aware of Jack following at a slower pace. It seemed as if years had passed since he’d last been here, so much had changed. He had changed. Now, he wanted only to be assured the woman he had asked to be his wife was safe. He dared to hope the outlaws had brought Chastity to Willow House and not some less worthy place, else she would already be on her back serving the brothel’s clientele. He could not bear to think of it. But Abigail Darkin would recognize an innocent in an instant.
The butler, who was familiar with his face, took his hat and allowed him entry. “Mr. Powell, you were not expected this evening.” Jack followed him in and the butler shut the door. Inside the entry hall, the doorman, a blond giant stood like a sentry, his only purpose to deter any unruly guest, of which there were few.
Robbie handed the butler his new card. “Wilson, I come not as a customer but my uncle and I are here on an urgent matter. I would see Miss Abby in her office at once. A young woman’s life may depend upon it.”
“Very well, Sir Robert, follow me.”
“I’ll wait here for you,” said Jack.
“There is a small waiting room just through that door,” said Wilson, pointing to a door off the entry hall, “where there is brandy and wine.”
“You will find me there,” Jack assured Robbie.
Abigail Darkin insisted on formalities, so Robbie waited outside her office for Wilson to present his card and explain the urgent nature of his mission.
A moment later, the butler opened the door and beckoned him enter.
Miss Abby stood behind her polished cherry wood desk, her head bent over his card. Behind her, a fire crackled in the stone fireplace. She smiled as she looked up. “Sir Robert is it now?” Her sharp eyes fixed him with a steady gaze. “You must have done some worthy deed for His Majesty, yes?”
He averted his gaze. “A favor, no more.”
“May I offer you a brandy? ’Tis French.”
“That is kind of you, but no. I come on an urgent matter.”
“Yes, Wilson mentioned that. What is it that brings you here?”
With hope in his heart and scrambling for words, he said, “Do you…have a young woman?”
She smiled. “We have many, as well you know.”
“Not one of the girls who live here. Another. Hair the color of pale honey with skin like the purest cream and striking blue eyes like a sea on a distant isle. When she smiles, she lights up the room.”
“Does this paragon have a name?”
“Chastity,” he choked out. “Miss Chastity Reynolds.” Distraught, he added, “It may be that a man brought her here asking you to take her into your house. I pray it was so for any other place does not bear considering.”
Abby fixed him with an intense look, one that he had seen before on her wise face.
“I have combed all of London, calling at every brothel to which he might have taken her. I cannot allow myself to think how desperate her situation might be, how scared she must be.” Robbie pleaded, “Tell me you have her or I shall be a man most miserable.”
“I do.”
His brows lifted, hardly believing his ears. “You do?”
She studied him with careful assessment. “Who are you to Miss Reynolds and what is she to you?”
“I am sometimes in great disfavor with her but the truth is I…I love her and would make her my wife. She was abducted because of me and my work for the Crown.”
“I see.” Given her clientele, Abby likely did see all too well. His older brother, Martin, had once patronized Willow House and he, too, had been a government spy.
Robbie leaned forward over her desk. “You haven’t—”
“No, I have kept her apart.”
He let out a deep sigh. “May I see her? I wouldn’t want her to stay any longer.”
“I will have to ask if she would welcome your visit. Chastity has had a great shock, a scare that her upbringing did not prepare her for. Had the wicked man not brought her here, I can well imagine what might have befallen her. She has imagined it, too, I daresay.”
“I cannot thank you enough for taking care of her.”
“Wait here. I will ask her.”
Chapter 14
The door opened and Chastity looked up from her book. Miss Abby stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “Did you get a nap? You appear more rested.”
Chastity nodded. “I did nod off for a few minutes but, mostly, I think it’s feeling safe at last. Thank you for the gown. It is lovely.”
“That blue quite becomes you.” She came closer. “I have come to tell you there is a man downstairs who wants to see you.”
A cold chill ran up Chastity’s spine as the fear returned that had been her constant companion since her abduction. “Who is he?”
“His name is Sir Robert Powell.”
She leapt from her chair, the book falling to the side. “Sir Robert is here?”
“From the look on your face, I can see that is good news.”
“Oh, yes. I have been praying he would find me.”
“He has been searching all of London for you.”
“How did he know to look here?”
“He didn’t. But he has visited Willow House before.”
“It would not surprise me. He is a rogue and doubtless would find your ladies attractive.”
“My ladies are effusive in their praise of his kisses,” Miss Abby said with a subtle smile.
“I can well imagine that,” she said, her cheeks flaming at the memory of his last kiss.
&nbs
p; “Chastity, he says his intentions are honorable. You can be sure I asked. He told me seeks your hand in marriage.”
She frowned recalling their last conversation. “He has not asked me to marry him, more like informed me.”
Miss Abby chuckled. “Yes, I can see him doing that. Sir Robert is a bold one, but a gentleman for all that and, in this instance, quite sincere, I believe.”
Lifting her chin, Chastity said, “I have not consented.”
“Are you willing to see him?”
“I would not turn him away. Besides, I must warn him. His life is in danger.”
Robbie bounded up the stairs and brought himself to a halt in front of the door. He wanted to burst in, so eager was he to be assured she was safe, but in deference to her modesty, he knocked softly.
She wrenched open the door and fell into his arms. “Oh, you came!”
He kissed the top of her head and held her tightly to his chest, relieved she was safe. “Darling, I will always come. I only wish I’d found you sooner but I did not know where he’d taken you.” He kissed her then, long and hard, assuring himself she was real and unharmed, assuring her he was her defender.
She pulled back and, for the first time, she appeared vulnerable, a beautiful woman in need of a protector. “That horrible man who held me captive told me you are the reason I was abducted. He said you are a traitor to good Englishmen. How is that possible?”
“Come, let us sit, and I will explain.”
They sat on a settee. He held her hands in his, getting a good look at her face for the first time. “You are hurt!” He gently touched her bruised cheek with the back of his hand.
“The man named Augie hit me when I tried to escape.”
Robbie frowned. “He will die for that.”
“I’m all right now,” she said, squeezing his hand.
Making a note to dispense with the man who had hit her, he described his role in the capture of the Cato Street conspirators and his service to the Crown in the past few years. He hoped she did not see his missions as less than honorable. Disguise—and he had donned many—implied deceit. He needed her to believe him worthy.
Rogue’s Holiday Page 20
