Chastity, on the other hand, had gone to great lengths to be sure
she would not be recognized. A rose silk domino and a pearl half-mask
were moderately concealing, but in addition she’d powdered her wig
heavily with silver-gray.
When she’d looked in the mirror in her room, she’d been sure even
Cyn would never recognize her. She remembered his words. Would the eyes
of love penetrate even this disguise?
As she observed the scene, watching mainly for the appearance of her
father, Chastity absorbed the chatter of the local people. They talked
of children and crops and—with amusement rather than passion—the latest
fashion. Her lips began to quiver, and she realized how much she wanted
this for herself. An ordinary life, wrapped up in matters of
extraordinary importance.
These people took an interest in politics, but would not kill for
power; an interest in fashion, but would not beggar themselves over it.
She heard two portly gentlemen grumbling about Lord Bute and the
influx of greedy Scots into England, but even that topic didn’t stir
great heat. Whitehall could go hang as long as the squires were left to
care for their land.
Then she realized that the topic had been raised by the presence of
the man himself. Lord Bute’s slender mask could not conceal—was not
intended to conceal— one of the handsomest men in England. He was
accompanied by a woman in full-face mask and red domino. Another
Society lady out adventuring?
He smilingly accepted the attention of the small court about him,
and of the local people inclined to brush against the great. Chastity
shook her head. He was handsome, amiable, and quite well-intentioned,
but not of the caliber to lead England to greatness. She could quite
see how his holding power had driven her father to extremes.
She began to search the arriving guests for her father. Surely she
would know him. Would he even bother with a mask? It was not in his
style.
She was distracted by a gentleman bowing before her. “Sweet rose, will you walk with me?”
The voice and the blue velvet tickled at her memory. “Perhaps I am waiting for someone, sir,” she said.
“Then wait no longer, my charming bud. He is here.”
Now she had it. It was Lord Heatherington! What was he doing here?
She tapped him gently on the wrist with her fan. “Wretched deceiver. He
has not your height.”
“Then you do not want him. Will you not allow me an opportunity to persuade you of my charms?”
He was not an unattractive man, but knowing what she did, Chastity
would not go apart with this man for the Crown of England. “I fear not,
sir,” she said. “You must find another blossom.”
He took her rejection gracefully, bowed, and moved away.
That interruption meant that a number of people had arrived without
her scrutinizing them. A gentleman in gold silk and a mask passed by,
stopped, turned, and eyed her. He came forward. “My pretty chameleon,”
Cyn murmured. “I see the worry has turned you gray.”
“How did you know me?”
“How could I not? Come,” he said, holding out a hand, “I have to find Rothgar.”
“Why?” asked Chastity, suddenly nervous.
“Merely to tell him Brand has persuaded Vernham to join the throng.”
Chastity could not resist. She placed her hand in his and they wove
through the growing crowd in search of the marquess. “How on earth did
Brand manage that?”
“Told him it was the only way he’d get any food and drink. Extremely
fond of his drink, is Vernham. Been calling for brandy ever since he
came around.”
“Has Rothgar told you his plans?”
“No. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything, or anyone, hurt you.” It was as if he knew she was filled with fear.
Rothgar was not in the hall, and so they moved toward the first
reception room. A sudden crush near the door made Chastity aware that
Cyn was wearing a sword. “Will it come to violence then?” she whispered
anxiously.
He smiled, all Malloren. “I hope so.”
The cheerful uproar of happy people, without a care in their heads
beyond crops and children, became almost macabre to Chastity as she
contemplated the coming horrors.
They found Rothgar in the room arranged for gaming, settling Bute at
a table. He was being particularly attentive to Bute’s masked partner.
Chastity realized that she had to be Augusta, Princess of Wales, the
mother of King George.
Her throat seized up. Was this just chance, or was Rothgar playing
for incredibly high stakes? Was the fact that Princess Augusta and the
Earl of Walgrave were vicious enemies part of the web he was weaving?
Augusta had always been jealous of the closeness between Walgrave and
her husband, the Prince of Wales. When Prince Frederick died, she had
turned her son—the present king—against the earl.
Cyn gave Rothgar the message that Vernham had joined the party, and
Rothgar nodded. His hair was powdered white, and he wore a light
maquillage that emphasized a wickedness in him, but he was not
disguised except for a slender black mask. Anyone would know him, and
know him to be dangerous. Chastity had grown used to him as he was with
his family, relaxed in country clothes. Now, grand enough for court in
deep-blue satin and silver, she feared him once again.
Had Fort been right? Would Rothgar take this chance to destroy an enemy at any cost?
Perhaps he guessed her thoughts. He smiled, and captured a hand to kiss it. “Begin planning your wedding,
mignon
.”
“You can’t be sure…”
He raised his brows. “All is falling so beautifully into place.”
Chastity knew then that he was right. They were all moving at his
direction. She cast an alarmed look at the princess. “I am not going to
unmask,” she said firmly.
“You will do as you are told. Cyn, stay with her, and control her as a good husband should.”
“We’re not married yet,‘” said Cyn levelly, “and even if we were, I would not force her to unmask here.”
Rothgar did not seem particularly put out. “Then at least stay with her.”
“That accords with my wishes perfectly.” Cyn led Chastity away.
“I’m scared to death,” she whispered. “I’ve been so happy, and it’s all going to shatter.”
“To open the gateway to yet greater happiness. I’ve never known
Rothgar to be confident and fail.” He drew her into a quiet room and
faced her. “He has agreed that I am fit for service now. He will not
stand in my way.”
Chastity felt as if the world had become an empty husk. “When will you go?” she asked, trying to be brave.
“After we’re wed. Or perhaps not at all.” He trapped her gently against the wall. “I’m not sure you will like military life.”
Her feelings in turmoil, Chastity protested, “Cyn, you can’t give up your career for me!”
“But I can’t give up you for my career.” His fingers traced the
edges of her mask. “There are other things,” he reminded her, and her
body instantly responded.
“You love being a soldier.” Chastity was proud of the firmness in
her voice, especially when his body against hers was dissolving her
into pure need.
“I’ve been thinking about that, Chastity,” he said softly as his
hand wandered—seemingly uncontrollably—down her neck to loose the
fastening of her cloak and lay it open. “I’m not sure it’s true. I love
travel and adventure.” His fingers traveled to the swell of her breasts
beneath the silken shift.
“I love doing something significant,” he said, and the heel of his
hand found the significant spot beneath the stomacher where her nipples
swelled with sensitivity. He pressed just enough to steal her breath.
His lashes shadowed his cheeks as he thoughtfully studied her reactions.
“But there are other things,” he murmured. “If the war is ending,
soldiering will be dull, but there will be interesting work in the
Canadas—establishing government, mapping and exploring. What more could
any man want than to explore a place so beautiful and mysterious?” His
hand explored the dip between her breasts.
Chastity leaned her head helplessly against his shoulder. “You’re confusing me. You don’t really want that.”
His fingers slid behind the stomacher. “I delight in confusing you,
and there are no words in the language to express the depth of my
need.” He found her sensitive flesh and captured it.
“Ah!” The cry of desire escaped Chastity and Cyn caught it in his
mouth. He used his tongue fiercely to promise other delights, stroking
in and out as she shuddered and melted. Her flimsy hoops were pressed
flat and his thigh came between hers to both comfort and torment her.
Chastity’s legs ached to uselessness and she clung to him. Her heart
deafened her. Fiery heat engulfed her, dizzying her beyond a scrap of
reason.
His mouth released her and she gazed at him, dying with a need that he surely would not assuage.
Then his hand left her bodice and conquered her skirts to find the
heated ache and stroke her there, speeding her rampaging body to
impossible heights.
“Cyn!” she gasped, clutching him. “Dear God! Dear God!”
“Melt for me, Chastity,” he whispered. “Here, now.”
She had no choice. She clung to him as shudders racked her, and
muffled her own cries of release against his velvet shoulder. Then calm
settled.
Chastity was dizzy and sticky and her legs still felt like stuffed
rags. Even as her heart slowed, his mouth played a soothing message
against her neck.
She sucked in a breath. “Why?”
He drew back to smile at her and she could see the passion that marked him. “Because I desire you to the point of insanity.”
“But…”
“But I have a vow, and one I intend to keep. I hope,” he said, resting his head against hers, “not for much longer.”
“Oh, Cyn…” She stroked his hair gently. “I did not need that. Not really.”
“But I did.” He moved back and grinned. “Do you think me a noble
martyr? Sweet Chastity, there is only one pleasure in the world greater
than making you dissolve in ecstasy.”
She had to believe him honest. “I had no idea…” And the halting phrase expressed a world of ignorance.
“We will explore it together, along with a new land. Will you, beloved?”
She searched his masked features. “You really want to give up soldiering?”
“Yes.”
She surrendered to the dream. “And what would I do?”
“Explore with me… in and out of bed.” He began to deftly reorder her
clothing. “We could have a home, perhaps in Montreal. Or there is a
promising town being built called Halifax. It’s in Acadia on the east
coast. You could stay there when you had to, and travel with me when
you could.”
She captured his head and kissed him. “It sounds wonderful. Do you
know, I have never much relished a life lived in drawing rooms.” She
was wondering what would happen if she tested his vow.
“I do indeed know. I recognized a kindred spirit when we first met.” He removed himself from her hold. “A bold piece of goods.”
“It was probably the pistols that gave you the hint,” she murmured, moving toward him again.
He shook his head. “Doubtless. Give me your left hand, stealer of hearts.”
Chastity halted and held out her hand. He slipped a ring onto her finger, a gold
fede
ring made up of two clasped hands. She stared at it. “Oh, Cyn—”
He slid another ring on top, a hoop of diamonds. “It’s called a
keeper ring,” he said. “King George has just set the fashion by giving
one to his new bride. It sits on top, to guard the ring and the
relationship from all harm. Do you know a diamond is the hardest stone?”
Chastity touched the beautiful rings and tears escaped the mask to
roll down her cheeks. “Oh, Cyn, I’m so afraid. I’m afraid to hope. I’m
still the Notorious Chastity Ware.”
He kissed the tears away. “Come and dance, my Lady Notorious. It’ll chase away care.”
Chastity lost herself in the dancing—the first time she had danced with Cyn—until she saw Nerissa Trelyn in her set.
This was Nerissa Trelyn the leader of Society, and she had done
little to disguise herself. Her beautiful blonde hair was unpowdered,
and a small feather mask did not disguise her features. Instead of a
domino, she wore a flowing sacque gown of pristine white silk.
Chastity thought bitterly that she would look positively virginal if
it weren’t for the wide, low neckline which made the most of her
magnificent figure. If her identity was in the smallest doubt, she wore
the magnificent Trelyn diamonds, given by her doting husband.
She partnered her husband with almost regal dignity, the Queen of
Society. Lord Trelyn was not an old man— he must be about Rothgar’s
age—but he acted as if he were sixty, while at the same time preening
himself on the possession of this glorious creature.
Chastity felt some sympathy for Nerissa, until she remembered that
this marriage had been the lady’s own choice, and that she had
apparently jilted Bryght Malloren in the process, and was now the
mistress of Lord Heatherington.
Chastity began again to scan the guests for her father, but in the
dim atmosphere of the Chinese ballroom it was impossible to see far.
There were even spices burning—incense or some such—and the silvery
smoke from them and the candles fogged the air.
When the dance ended, she moved with Cyn into the refreshment room
and drank some wine. “It is a magnificent affair, especially for one
prepared in such a hurry.”
“The household is accustomed, and can do this at the drop of a hat.”
“And with a great deal of work,” Chastity pointed out.
“Of course. Rothgar is immensely rich. He considers it his duty to employ people.”
“My father is even richer, I believe. He counts the candles and checks the meals served in the servants’ hall.”
“Well, have some sympathy,” said Cyn with a twinkle of amusement. “He’s had to support the greedy Vernhams all these years.”
That was bringing matters to mind with a vengeance. Chastity shivered. “When are things to happen?”