Page 30 of Rogue’s Holiday

Vowing not to think about his nighttime pursuits, Chastity forced herself to focus on the beautiful music of Handel. After all, what did she care of his lady partners? Instead, she became enthralled with the large painted scenes of Chinese costumes in red and gold arrayed about the room and held up by flying dragons. It was something she would expect to see in the palace of a Chinese lord.

Sir Robert leaned in to whisper, “I do love the music, don’t you?” His lips touched her ear, causing her to shiver. Then came his warm breath against her delicate skin. As he withdrew, she turned to see him smile. Surely he had meant to do it.

“I do,” she said, turning back, trying to still her racing heart. He had deliberately teased her with his sensuous lips, the scoundrel. Dismissing his bold gesture, she sat back and returned her attention to the music.

Not long after, Aunt Agatha claimed the chair reserved for her.

At twelve o’clock, the music stopped and sandwiches, wine and water were handed around. Muted conversations filled the great room.

Sir Robert and his uncle nibbled on sandwiches but, by then, the heat had risen to such an extent that Chastity asked only for water.

“The king always keeps the Pavilion’s rooms overwarm,” said Aunt Agatha. “It makes one thirsty, but one can hardly tell the king to snuff the fires.”

Shortly after, the king got to his feet, bowed and wished his guests a good night as he escorted Lady Conyngham from the room.

“May we see you ladies to your home?” Sir Robert asked.

“That would be most kind of you,” replied Aunt Agatha. “We are not so far as to justify a carriage unless it is raining.”

Chastity was delighted when Monsieur Donet offered her great-aunt one of his arms and Rose the other. She had hoped her friend could get to know the vicomte better. Of course, when Sir Robert offered his arm to her, she could not refuse it.

Despite her intention not to enjoy his company, Chastity soon found she was laughing at some witty remark Sir Robert made.

“So you can laugh,” he said. “I should have thought you preferred to scowl.”

“It might surprise you to know that I laugh often, Sir Robert, just not with you.”

Chastity couldn’t be certain in the dim light of the street, but she thought his jaw tightened. If so, he quickly recovered. “Before the summer is over, I should hope to see more of your mirth, Miss Reynolds.”

“We shall see.” A smile spread across her face as she realized his walking her home delayed him from Countess Lieven’s bed. Perhaps the woman would be asleep by the time he arrived, her door locked.

“Well, what do you know…?” Robbie muttered, reading the invitation that arrived days later as he and Jack returned from their morning ride.

“What?” asked Jack from where he stood in front of Robbie’s mirror admiring his cravat.

“We are invited to a reception at Lady Sanborn’s. She has added a note promising to introduce us to some of the most eligible young ladies of her acquaintance in Brighton.”

“I shall look forward to that,” Jack said, facing Robbie. “Does this mean I shall finally meet the demon cat?”

“I daresay you will.”

Tiller came through the door to help Robbie change. “Do ye dress for town, Cap’n?”

“I think so,” said Robbie. “We’ve a few taverns to visit, a game of brag, and Sir John Lade, who we encountered on our ride, wants to show us a horse.”

Tiller busied himself setting out Robbie’s clothes. “Once I see to ye, Cap’n, I’ll attend the vicomte.”

“I do appreciate your service, mon ami,” said Jack.

“’Tis nothing, M’sieur. As ye’re companion to my master, ’tis my pleasure.” The old salt puffed out his chest with pride. “’Sides, when we’re at sea, I have more to do than seeing to just two gentlemen. And that don’t even go into the Cap’n’s many costumes.”

“Costumes?” asked Jack with a puzzled look. Then to Robbie, “Is there something you’re not telling me, Nephew?”

Robbie shot Tiller a look that said, “Say no more” and began to dress. “A gentleman has a need for many kinds of attire, does he not, Tiller?”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Tiller said, dropping his gaze. “He surely does.”

As Robbie pulled on his polished Hessians, he remembered the note he’d received the night he’d dined with the king. There had been no others since but, whenever he and Jack went into town, he could feel eyes on his back. Someone was monitoring his movements. He’d made sure he was carrying one of his smaller pistols at all times, and Jack always had a knife or two hidden on his person, though none of that would save Robbie from a bullet in the back.