Page 71 of Rogue’s Holiday

He chuckled. “Very well then, as long as you resist, I have an idea. The Countess of Claremont owes me a favor. Since they are such good friends, I believe I could persuade her to pay a visit to Lady Sanborn. Your return in her carriage would provide the perfect excuse for your absence.”

“Do you think she would do that for me?”

“There is only one way to find out.”

Later that evening, Chastity watched from the window as Sir Robert brought his curricle to a stop in front of Willow House. Her gaze lingered on his lithe form, his broad chest and his handsome face beneath his top hat. He had come to her rescue, winning her admiration, yet, for all that, he was a rogue, experienced and worldly. Could he ever be a man she could trust with her heart?

She had said goodbye to Miss Abby, who only let her go when she had learned of the plan to restore Chastity to Brighton, hopefully with her reputation intact. In deference to that reputation, Miss Abby had agreed with Sir Robert that she should not spend a night in Willow House. As a result, their departure had been from the rear of the house, Chastity covered in Sir Robert’s musketeer cloak.

While she had waited for him to call for her, she had reflected on her life. Living in the shadow of her beautiful mother and sisters, her expectations for love had been meager. In truth, she had not believed to ever find it after the young man she had wanted turned out to be unworthy of her trust. Still, when she thought of the women of Willow House, she had to be grateful. She had so much more to live for. One of them might become the mistress of a great man, treasured at first but then discarded, like the parade of women who amused the king. Few could look forward to a legitimate marriage and children. If she were willing to change her intention for the future to live alone, she could.

Emma had come to tell her Sir Robert awaited her. She thanked the maid and followed her down the servants’ stairs to see his warm smile. “Good evening!” he said, holding out his hand. He appeared tired and worn but happy.

“And to you.”

They walked to his curricle and he helped her to climb in. His touch gave her confidence to face Muriel, Countess of Claremont, a woman Miss Abby had told her was respected by all of London.

Above them, the twilight sky was cast in shades of dark gray. She wore the blue gown Miss Abby had given her and hoped it would not rain, as the curricle would afford them little protection from a downpour even with the hood up. She wanted to look like a lady when she met the countess. Emma had fixed her hair so that it was restored to good taste and, for that, she’d been grateful.

Sir Robert snapped the reins and the grays stretched out away from Willow House. He was attired as a gentleman in an olive-green velvet coat, gray waistcoat and breeches. The green of his coat brought out the green in his hazel eyes. His cravat was simply tied but impeccable, a shock of white against his tanned face. He had shaved and trimmed his side-whiskers. And his boots were polished to a high gloss. Was it for her or the countess he had taken such pains with his appearance?

When she asked about the vicomte, he told her his uncle had stayed behind to see about his collection of knives. “I’ll return to him later. He awaits me at Grillon’s Hotel.”

“Grillon’s?”

“I do not wish to stay at my family’s house. There would be too many questions.” With an amused expression, he added, “Besides, I have such fond memories of the place, you know, particularly the lobby.” He laughed then and she realized he was trying to take her mind off the past few days.

“Ah, yes, the lobby,” she said, lifting her eyes skyward.

Some minutes later, the curricle came to a stop in front of an imposing four-story house with tall columns and rows of windows on each floor. He handed her down from the curricle, and Chastity stood in awe, taking in the impressive edifice and the gardens she could just glimpse through the iron fence. Would the countess welcome her? Or, would she consider her a pale image of the woman she had imagined Sir Robert would meet in Brighton. The elderly countess might have preferred Rose.

“So this is Claremont House,” she said gazing up at the mansion.

“Indeed, it is,” said Sir Robert. “The home of the dowager countess or, as I call her, The Grand Countess. The two of you remind me of each other, you know. Both formidable women.”

She didn’t know what to make of that. She had never thought of herself as such. Willful and independent, yes, even impudent. But hardly formidable. Still, since she was certain he had meant it as a compliment, she returned him a smile. “To be compared to your Grand Countess is high praise, indeed.”

A waiting groom took the reins of Sir Robert’s grays and he opened the gate and escorted her to the front door. She was glad he was beside her; she wouldn’t want to meet the countess alone.

At the sound of the brass knocker, the door opened and an aged butler greeted them, taking Sir Robert’s hat. “Welcome. I delivered your message to Lady Claremont, Sir Robert. She is expecting you and Miss Reynolds.”

“Thank you, Cruthers.”

Chastity had only begun to look around the grand entry hall with its magnificent chandelier and gilded staircase winding to the second story, when the butler beckoned them to follow him.

The parlor they entered was fashionably decorated yet understated in pastel colors and ivory. The silk brocade drapes were a beautiful shade of pink and the Axminster carpet featured a geometric design with pink roses. The room was feminine yet somehow regal in effect.

From one of the ivory sofas, a silver-haired woman wearing a pearl-gray gown rose and smiled at them. Chastity kept her head enough to curtsey before one dubbed The Grand Countess.

“Good morning, Sir Robert. And this young lady must be Chastity Reynolds, great-niece of my dear friend.” The countess lifted the quizzing glass that hung around her neck and peered through it at Chastity.

She tried not to fidget and forced herself to remain calm. “Yes, my lady,” she said, inwardly quaking at the countess’ careful examination of her person. She had not cowered before the men who had taken her captive, but she felt like doing so now before this grand lady. She feared she would be judged and found wanting.

The countess gestured them to the sofas and asked the butler to see that tea was served. “I have heard much about you from Agatha, Miss Reynolds, which is why I asked Sir Robert to call upon you in Brighton. I am so glad he did.”

A knowing look passed between the countess and Sir Robert, which produced a smile on his face. “You remain wily as ever, Lady Claremont.”

“Now,” said the countess, ignoring Sir Robert’s comment, “why are you two together in London and to what do I owe this visit?”