He professed unswerving allegiance to James III, citing a meeting with the ‘king’ during his Grand Tour in 1717.
“Could that meeting have really taken place?” Chastity asked. “I can
perhaps imagine that Father allowed his ambition to control him, and
took this step, thinking that the Stuarts were about to triumph. But
back in his youth, and so soon after the rebellion in 1715?”
Rothgar answered. “In fact, it is the least incriminating item. A
young man can be misguided, or ill-advised. Back in those days, I
understand, there was a certain fashionable bravado in making contact
with the Stuarts during a Grand Tour. The rest, however, is enough to
make your father’s position very dangerous indeed. It will certainly
shatter forever his image as the Incorruptible.”
Verity looked at Rothgar. “Fort must be told. He must have a say in this.”
“Of course.” Rothgar sent for Lord Thornhill.
Fort entered the room suspiciously, withdrawn physically and
mentally from these unwelcome allies. He sent a burning glare at Cyn.
Rothgar handed him the letter.
Fort read it and collapsed into a chair. “I never would have believed… He must have been mad!”
“Those were strange days,” said Rothgar. “You were in the nursery,
and doubtless remember little. I was a young man, too young to be truly
torn by it, but I remember that there were a few days when it seemed as
if the impossible might become true. All was rumor and disorder. The
Hanoverian royalty were packed and ready to run back to their little
German electorate. Many believed that hidden Jacobite sympathizers were
about to crawl out of the wainscoting… Your father lost his nerve.”
“But a Jacobite! I’d have sworn oaths he has never had Jacobite
sympathies. Plague take it! In spiritual matters he’s more of a Puritan
than a Papist. That’s why we ended up with these names.”
“But more ambitious than anything else. In 1745 he was in the prime
of life, remember. He was the same age, I believe, as his friend
Frederick, Prince of Wales, and so would have been thirty-eight. Two
ambitious men waiting in the wings, impatient for power. The great
Walpole had fallen a few years before, leaving no firm hand to steer
England. Everything was ready, if only the king would die.” Rothgar
smiled derisively. “Neither of them could have dreamed old King George
II would live until 1760, and outlive his greedy son… The ironies of
fate.
“But before that turn of the wheel came this other foul blow of
destiny. With Walgrave poised to take control of England as soon as
Frederick became king, was he going to let the
Jacobites
wrest it from him? He struggled against them, but when it seemed they
might in truth prevail, he faltered, unable to see his dream turn to
dross. Perhaps they approached him, tempted him… Frederick, you know,
was not an inspiring figure upon which to build a great new order. He
was a drunkard and a libertine…”
He suddenly shrugged. “Forgive my speculations. Perhaps the noble earl will enlighten us when he comes.”
“When he comes?” asked Fort numbly.
“Didn’t Chastity tell you? I have invited him to the ball.”
Fort stood, the letter still in his hands. “I could throw this in the fire.”
“Perhaps,” said Rothgar.
“You have the whip hand at last, don’t you, Rothgar?” sneered Fort. “How you must be loving this. What are you going to do?”
“I?” said Rothgar mildly. “I am going to ensure that my brother can
comfortably marry your sister. It is my sole interest in this matter.
That letter plays a very small part, and only to twist your father’s
arm a little. For anything more, I leave it up to you, but I would not
let him know you have it without safeguards.”
The room was silent as Fort considered the fact that his father
would kill him to gain the document. He thrust the letter back into
Rothgar’s hands. “Keep it. I’ll let you know when I decide what to do.”
He stalked out of the room.
Verity said something softly to Nathaniel and rose to her feet. She
looked at Chastity. Chastity went with her sister in pursuit of their
brother.
They tracked him down in his room where he was attacking a bottle of
brandy. Moving in unison, they relieved him of it. “Not now, Fort,”
said Verity.
“This is all your fault!” he snarled.
“Well, really!” declared Chastity. “If ever I’ve heard a piece of
injustice, it is that! Verity and I have suffered terribly, and have
brought none of it on ourselves.”
He turned on her. “If you hadn’t debauched yourself with a damned
Malloren, bloody Rothgar wouldn’t have our family over a barrel!”
Chastity planted her fists on her hips and leaned forward. “If
Father hadn’t committed treason, none of this would have happened! Or
have you forgotten that?”
He groaned and sank his head into his hands. “If this comes out, we’ll all be destroyed.”
Chastity and Verity sat, one on either side of him. “Fort, you heard Rothgar. It won’t come out.”
He looked up. “You trust
Rothgar
?”
“Yes,” said Chastity. “Don’t you?”
“He hates the Wares.”
“Why is that, Fort?”
“It mainly hinges on a man named Russell, an adherent of the Pitts,
whom Father detests. I see now—I think I see—that Father detests anyone
and everyone who gets between him and power. Russell was Commissary
General of the Army. He was tried and ruined for corruption, but
Rothgar stood by his friend throughout. There was talk that he had
shared in the spoils, of course. Father has boasted of having a part in
bringing Russell to justice, of putting an end to the scandals that had
our brave soldiers fighting in tawdry uniforms and using unreliable
weapons…” He sank his head in his hands once more. “Now, I don’t know
what to think.”
Verity said, “Now you think Rothgar might want revenge?”
“He’s not a man to let sleeping wrongs lie.”
Chastity said quietly but firmly, “I don’t believe it.”
When Fort looked at her, she added, “I know you think I’m besotted
with love, or lust, but Rothgar’s devotion to his family outweighs any
other impulses he might have. To expose Father would only make my
situation worse, and he won’t do that to Cyn.”
Fort’s frown lightened a little. “I pray you are right. But when
this is over, he’ll still have that document, or at least the
knowledge… I don’t trust him.”
Chastity laid a hand over her brother’s. “I’ll have Rothgar’s
promise to return the document, and to keep silent. He’ll be true to
his word.”
Fort shrugged her hand off. “I’ll not have you groveling to a
Malloren for favors. I wonder,” he sneered, “what price he’ll ask.”
Verity’s shocked “Fort!” clashed with Chastity’s “Fool!”‘
Chastity stood and faced him. “For your information, the marquess is
like a brother to me, and has been a better brother these past days
than my real one has ever been!” She turned on her heels and slammed
the door behind her.
Fort cursed. “That girl is out of hand. I’d like to beat her.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Verity said firmly.
He sighed. “I feel as if I’m in the maelstrom. Chastity’s letting
these Mallorens twist her inside out. She believes everything they tell
her.” He looked at Verity. “I’m glad you’re married to Frazer, but it’s
another scandal in the making, especially when Vernham takes you both
to court. And now there’s Father.”
“And you, I suppose, are pure as snow.”
“No.” he admitted ruefully, “but I’m beginning to look like it, the company I’m keeping.”
Verity smiled at him. “I trust Rothgar too. And so does Nathaniel.”
“You’re all mad,” said Fort.
“You’re all mad,” said Fort, looking around the Tapestry Room later
that afternoon. Only the non-Mallorens appeared to agree with him.
“I don’t think so,” said Rothgar. “There is an amount of rancor that
needs to be vented. Cyn wants to kill you for the abandonment of your
sister. You want to kill him to protect your sister. A duel is in
order.”
“But I don’t want either of them killed!” Chastity protested.
“You are a woman.” said Rothgar dismissively, “and know nothing of
these matters.” But she saw the teasing amusement behind it. which
reassured her, except that Rothgar’s amusements were rarely harmless.
“Then you should not raise these matters before such ignorant woman, should you?” she asked pertly.
“Alas,” he said with a small bow. “I was maladroit, but would it not excite you,
mignon
, to know you are to be fought over?”
“No,” said Chastity, but something inside told her she was lying.
“Tell me, Lord Thornhill,” said Rothgar, “how good are you with a sword?”
“Very good,” snapped Fort. “But I don’t intend to kill Lord Cynric. I doubt it would endear me to my family.”
“It would endear you to your father,” Rothgar pointed out amiably. “But if you are very good, I think you and Cyn could fight
an naturel
with little chance of permanent damage.”
“With naked swords!” exclaimed Nathaniel in deep shock. “I will have no part of it.”
But Cyn was on his feet, a glint in his eyes. “I think it a
wonderful idea. It is time Lord Thornhill bore some wounds of his own.”
Chastity leaped to her feet too. “He’s still bruised from defending me, Cyn. You’re not being fair.”
“He was slow to his duty.” He eyed Fort challengingly. “Weren’t you?”
“And you were rather precipitate to yours,” sneered Fort. “Weren’t you?”
They were already out the door.
Chastity turned on Rothgar. “If either of them is hurt, I’ll blame you.”
“I tremble,” he replied, and chucked her under the chin. “I thought
of putting them to fisticuffs, but then they would end up bruised and
bloody. They are both harboring resentments, my dear, and I want them
clearheaded tomorrow when the fun begins.”
“What fun?” demanded Chastity, but he was already following his brother out of the room.
Chastity hissed between her teeth as she followed him.
She found the duel was to take place in the hall. Cyn and Fort were
stripped to stocking-feet and shirts, testing light dueling rapiers.
The weapons seemed almost fragile and had an eerie beauty, but they
were deadly without anything to blunt the tips.
Chairs were being set out for the spectators, but Chastity went over
to Rothgar. “Please, don’t do this! Accidents are possible…”
He looked down at her. “Was your brother boasting when he said he was very good?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Cyn is also very good, or possibly better. It will be a freak
accident indeed that sends a blade where the user does not intend it to
go. Accidents can happen anywhere, any time. Only clods avoid adventure
for fear of them.”
Chastity muttered about men in general, and Mallorens in particular,
and flounced off to sit by Elf. “Your whole family is mad,” she told
her.
“So is yours,” said Elf, bright-eyed with excitement.
“Aren’t you the tiniest bit nervous?” Chastity demanded.
Elf looked at her in surprise. “Of course not. Cyn is really very
good. I don’t think he’s ever been beaten, not even by Rothgar. Rothgar
claims he’s hampered by old age, and could have bested him in his
youth, but I don’t think he means it.”
Chastity looked at Cyn again, surprised. Why was she constantly
surprised by him? She’d seen him fence when he’d rescued her in
Maidenhead, seen him in effect play with his opponent. She’d known then
he was good. But very good?
As soon as the bout started, she knew it to be true. She’d witnessed
fencing before, and knew some of the science of it, some of the art.
She could appreciate the light spring in the men’s legs, the suppleness
of their bodies, the strength in their agile wrists.
She saw more here. Fort fenced well, always balanced, and very
strong. Being some inches taller than Cyn, he had a reach advantage. It
didn’t do him much good.
Cyn’s quicksilver blade tapped and slid against Fort’s with an ease
that seemed effortless. No matter what thrust Fort tried, Cyn’s blade
met it smoothly, making the engagement appear to be a dance, sweetly
choreographed for harmony, rather than a perilous contest.
Chastity saw from the growing frown of concentration on Fort’s face
that the dance was not of his making. He broke the pattern and moved in
a sharper, less graceful, but much more threatening way—straight for
Cyn’s heart. Chastity gasped, but Cyn parried and controlled exactly as
he had before.
Fort grinned and stepped back, dropping his sword. “Damme, but you’re good.”
Cyn lowered his sword too. “You are skilled too.”
Fort laughed derisively, but didn’t seem put out. “You could disarm me, couldn’t you?”
“Perhaps,” said Cyn, his lashes guarding his eyes.
“Show me.” Fort took up the stance.
Cyn hesitated.
“Show me,” said Fort, “and I’ll support your marriage to my sister.”
Cyn smiled, and raised his blade in salute.
They met again, with a slither of steel on steel. “You deserve a
wound,” said Cyn, and quite casually touched Fort on the jaw with his
tip, so a line of crimson beads sprang forth.
Fort cursed and faltered.
There was no immediate disarm. Cyn waited until Fort settled again,
then almost lazily, in three moves that Chastity saw Fort recognize and
try to circumvent, sent his opponent’s sword spinning neatly out of his
grasp.
“Sweet heaven,” said Fort. “Where did you learn?”
“Here and there,” said Cyn, “but mostly from Rothgar. He’s a sterner
master than most hired ones. He nicked me often to teach me to keep my
guard up, and I was only a boy then.”
“I have never had any intention,” said Rothgar with chilly
precision, “of losing a brother carelessly to a braggadocian sword.” He
shrugged out of his coat. “Little brother, I want to test my mettle.
Perhaps I can mark you again.”
He swooped up the fallen sword and faced Cyn.