Chastity stiffened. “What, pray, does he have to do with it?”
“Don’t deny there’s something between you. I can sense it. It’s
doubtless confusing him since he thinks you male, but as soon as he
discovers you are female I think he will be interested. It’s a shame
nothing can ever come of it.”
“There’s nothing for anything to come of,” said Chastity firmly.
“And I have no intention of him ever knowing I am female. I think your
wits
are
wandering, Verity.”
It was nearly five o’clock and dark when they passed through the
north pike into the ancient city of Winchester. The road was quiet
since most travelers had already arrived at their destination, but
there were still plenty of people about on foot.
Both Verity and Chastity kept out of sight. Cyn raised the hatch and
called down, “We’re avoiding the fashionable inns and going to the
Three Balls. Hoskins assures me that even if Vernham or your father are
here, they’d never stay at such a small place, but it’s decent enough.
Don’t grow complacent, though. Remember your parts, and see if you can
conceal the baby in the bag.”
Chastity held open the portmanteau. Verity put a folded blanket over
the unspun wool, then slipped the sleeping babe onto it. He sighed,
then settled.
They laid a thin cotton cloth over him and partly closed the bag.
The coach swung sharply. Greetings were called. They peeped out to
see they were in the lantern-lit yard of a small inn. It was an ancient
place, with a shortage of right angles, and low-hanging eaves. It was
charming, but definitely not the kind of establishment to attract the
patronage of the high aristocracy.
The coach door swung open and Cyn indicated that they should climb
down. Chastity saw that it would be wise to show themselves, to fix the
illusion in the minds of the postilions. They left the portmanteau on
the floor of the carriage and stepped down. Cyn courteously assisted
Verity and ignored Chastity entirely. Chastity wondered wryly if she
should go and help with the horses, but feared she’d expose the
deception if she tried.
As the postilions unhitched their horses, the plump innkeeper
bustled out to attend his patrons. While Cyn chatted to the man, Verity
kept her head demurely lowered and stood quietly by his side. Cyn
occasionally addressed a remark to her, calling her ‘dear,’ and
touching her with gentle familiarity. Leaning against a wheel, hat down
over her eyes, Chastity thought bleakly that they made a lovely couple.
She saw a bored-looked young man pop his head out of the inn door
and come to the same conclusion. Did her father have a watcher at every
inn in the south? Why? Concern for a missing daughter was one thing,
but this was extraordinary. She prayed the baby would not wake.
Cyn paid off the postilions and the men clattered off. Then he
arranged to store his carriage for a few days at the inn and to hire a
riding horse so he could explore the area. He gave it out that he was
in search of a house to lease. He took rooms for himself and his
coachman, letting it drop that his wife would be staying with a friend.
It all went off without a hitch.
In no time they were strolling out of the inn yard, Cyn carrying the valise in which the baby still slept soundly.
“All clear. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with Mary Garnet,”
said Cyn cheerfully. “She’s always been a game one. Never wanted to
leave the Canadas, but when the second child came, Roger insisted she
return to England. She and the children are living with her father, a
scholarly sort. We’ll have to hope he puts up no objection.”
It turned out as Cyn had predicted. When they reached the pleasant
brick house on a quiet lane, Mary Garnet professed herself only too
delighted to have a female guest, and her father seemed equally
hospitable. Soon they were all in a snug parlour taking tea.
Mary was a sturdy young woman with apple cheeks and a ready smile.
Her two children—an equally sturdy girl of five, and an elfin boy still
in skirts—hovered shyly for a while. But then the girl was drawn toward
the baby, and the boy toward Cyn’s uniform.
“Da’s a soldier,” he gravely told Cyn.
“I know. I know your father very well. We have great fun together trouncing the king’s enemies.”
“With swords?”
“Swords and guns. Lots of lovely, noisy things.”
The child leaned against his knee, wide-eyed. “You have a big horse?”
“I do indeed.” Cyn smiled down. “Do you want to play horsy?”
The boy nodded, and so Cyn hoisted him onto his knees and began the chant.
“This is the way the ladies ride, Nimble, nimble, nimble;
This is the way the gentlemen ride, A gallop, a trot, a gallop,
a trot; This is the way the farmers ride, Jiggety jog, jiggety jog;
And when they come to a hedge… They jump over!“
He lifted the squealing lad into the air.
“
And when they come to a slippery place
…” The little boy held tight, brimming with expectation. “…
tumble down Dick
!” Cyn opened his legs and dropped the shrieking child almost to the floor.
Again! Again!“
Cyn obligingly began the performance all over again.
Chastity watched, an ache in her heart. He liked children as well as
babies. He really would make a wonderful father—firm when necessary,
but tremendous fun.
Stop it, Chastity.
She saw the little girl, Caroline, eyeing the horseplay enviously,
clearly torn between the attractions of the baby in Verity’s arms, and
the sheer excitement of the game. When Cyn called a pause to catch his
breath—more likely to let the little boy calm down before he fizzed
over like shaken champagne—Caroline demanded his attention. “We’re to
have a new baby here too,” she said.
Cyn’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Mary Garnet. “I do hope that means Roger’s had furlough.”
The woman shook her head at him. “Of course it does, you rogue. He brought you home, as you well know.”
“Brought me home?” asked Cyn blankly.
“Do you not remember? He wondered, though at times you were perfectly coherent, he said.”
Cyn shook his head. “I hardly remember the voyage. I have him to thank for saving my life, then.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, but he’ll be pleased when I write that
you are fully recovered. He wanted to visit before he sailed, but was
told you were not up to it.”
All good humor disappeared from Cyn’s face. “The devil you say! I
wonder how many other friends my solicitous brother barred the door to.”
“Come now, Cyn,” Mary said. “You were very ill. Roger said they’d lost hope until Rothgar appeared to take over.”
Cyn frowned. “Appeared where? You make him sound like a damn apparition!”
Chastity couldn’t believe how curtly he spoke to the wife of the man
who had saved his life, but Mary took it in her stride. “Don’t you
remember that either? That shows how ill you must have been. He
appeared at the dock when you arrived. Roger said it was positively
eerie him standing there, as if he’d had prior notice.”
Cyn’s lips twisted slightly, but if it was a smile it lacked humor.
“I assure you my brother does not use a crystal ball. Doubtless just
accurate and speedy information. So he turned up and pulled me back
from the jaws of death, did he? I suppose I should be grovelingly
grateful to him. I must remember when next we meet.”
Then he flashed a smile, like someone putting spark to tinder, and
began to play with the little boy again. In a moment Caroline moved to
his side. “It’s my turn next,” she said firmly.
Cyn finished a round with the boy and looked at the girl. “Are you sure this is suitable for a young lady?”
She nodded. “Papa plays it with me.”
Cyn set the boy on his feet. “Perhaps, then. If we leave out ‘Tumble down Dick.’ ”
Caroline frowned. “But that’s the best bit, sir! Why should the boys have all the fun?”
Cyn flashed a querying look at Mary, but before she could comment,
Caroline said, “It won’t be naughty, sir. Look!” and hoisted her muslin
skirts to show frilly drawers.
Mary groaned with horror, but Cyn laughed. He scooped up the girl to
begin the game, executing it with even more verve than he had used with
her little brother. Soon her pretty beribboned underwear was revealed
in all its glory.
Eventually he set the rosy girl on her feet. “There, love. That’s
all for now. I have business to take care of. But we’ll stop by again
soon, and you can ride again. I certainly don’t see why the boys should
have all the fun.”
He was leaving. This was the end. Suddenly, Chastity could not bear
it. Her noble resolve protested that she must let him go. Her love
hungered for every minute they could have together. She’d maintained
her disguise thus far. Surely it would be secure for a few more days?
He was heading for the door. Chastity followed him into the hall. “I think I should come with you.”
He looked at her strangely. “Why?”
“I can’t stay here. This house is too small. I might be recognized.
You might need help finding Nathaniel. After all, you don’t know him.
Besides, you need someone with you. I don’t think you realize how
ruthless Father can be.”
Chastity knew with despair that this was mainly a farrago of
nonsense, but the last point was valid. She didn’t think Cyn took The
Earl of Walgrave seriously enough.
“I admire the thoroughness of your father’s search,” he said. His
tone was pensively unreadable. “But are you sure coming with me would
be wise, young Charles?”
Chastity took a deep breath. “Yes.”
He nodded. “So be it. Tell Verity.”
Chastity gave Verity the same reasons for her to go off alone with
Cyn Malloren. Verity’s face clouded with concern and she too said, “Are
you sure this is wise, dearest?”
“No,” said Chastity faintly, “but I can’t let him go alone. He doesn’t know. He still takes it lightly.”
Verity sighed, but she pulled Chastity’s hat low down on her head
and kissed her. “Godspeed, dearest. Take care.” There were tears in her
eyes.
Chastity hugged her sister fiercely. “We’ll be back soon with Nathaniel, I promise.”
Within moments, Chastity was walking with Cyn down the dark street,
feeling that she had finally broken with her former life, and was
embarked upon a mysterious, and rather frightening, future. But the
mystery and fear were centered much more on the man at her side than on
their journey.
She glanced at him. “You like children, don’t you?”
“Don’t you?”
She’d forgotten again that he thought her male; lads weren’t
expected to be fond of children. One day she would destroy the illusion
with a silly mistake, and the terrible thing was that she wanted to.
She wanted to be able to face him honestly, woman to man, even if it
meant he would find out that she was Chastity Ware.
“I don’t know much about children,” she said, which was true enough.
She’d encountered few, and due to her disgrace, she’d not even met
Verity’s baby until this hectic visit.
“Nor do I,” he said. “I’m the youngest of my family. Perhaps if I
had a horde of them underfoot I wouldn’t like them so much, but I find
them refreshing.”‘
“Yes,” Chastity said thoughtfully. “Like a summer breeze, or a
fountain on a hot day. You must feel the lack of children on the fields
of war.”
“I wish I did. The place often seems to be overrun by half-starved
imps from hell. I feel sorry for them, but I confess I don’t often find
them refreshing. And yet they are no different in the essentials from
Mary’s darlings, or that boy there sweeping the crossing.”
Chastity looked at the urchin. He had a post by a flambeau. If
anyone approached, he nipped out to sweep the dust and droppings before
his customers crossed, then deftly caught the pennies they tossed. She
didn’t usually notice such children, hardly thought of them as children
at all. The boy was probably about eight— sturdy, grubby, but with a
quick, sly look in his eye.
“Is your heart torn?” Cyn asked dryly.
She saw the boy inspect a coin tossed by a prosperous cleric and
make a rude gesture at his back. “No. But I don’t much care for that
parson either.”
“The world’s full of children,” said Cyn, and led the way to cross where the boy worked.
“Doing well?” he asked the boy as they went by.
The urchin joined them at the roadside, waiting for his fee. “Fair to middlin‘, Captain.”
Cyn tossed him a coin. “That for knowing your insignia, or being a lucky guesser.”
The boy grinned at the sixpence. “God bless you, milord!”
Cyn laughed and threw him another. “Right on both counts.”
He and Chastity left the boy calling out ecstatic thanks.
“It’s so tempting to do that kind of thing,” Cyn said. “And so easy.
But is it noble generosity, or just an economical way of feeling like
God?”
Chastity shrugged. “I don’t suppose it matters to the child. He’ll eat well tonight.”
“He didn’t look particularly malnourished to me. He’ll likely spend it on gin.”
Chastity wondered if he jested, but feared he didn’t.
She thought they were going straight back to the inn, but he stopped
and knocked on a door. The sign said the establishment was Darby’s Bank.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Knocking,” he said, rapping again.
“It’s closed.”
“There are people within.” He knocked a third time.
Lud, thought Chastity, does he think the nobility can get away with anything?
An angry clerk swung open the door, and began to tell him to begone. Cyn merely said, “Lord Cynric Malloren. Is Darby about?”
In seconds they were inside, with everyone in sight groveling. An
eminent person, tall and silver-haired, came to bow and scrape Cyn into
an inner sanctum.
Doubtless Mr. Darby himself. Obviously the nobility
could
get away with anything, the male nobility at least.