Chapter 2
Chastity found Nana innocently occupied in the kitchen.
“The meal will be ready shortly, dear,” said her old nurse. “Are you going to let him free, or will I have to spoon-feed him?”
Though Nana’s tone was mild, Chastity heard the disapproval in it. “We can’t trust him, Nana, and we all have too much to do to be watching him every moment. He could escape and lead the magistrates straight here.”
Nana looked up from the pan. “You should perhaps have thought of that before you brought him here.”
Chastity raised her chin. “I needed a coachman.”
“Ah.” The old woman took plates off the dresser and began to lay the table. Chastity noted that she was laying four places, and at two months old, Verity’s baby was not yet ready for table meals. “I think you can trust him, Lady Chastity,” said Nana.
Chastity sighed. “Remember, my name is Charles.”
She went off to confer with her sister. She passed through the front room without acknowledging her prisoner except to place his pistol on a box there, then ran lightly up the steep stairs. Verity was dressing her baby after a change, talking nonsense to him and tickling him.
Chastity snapped, “I don’t know how you can act like that when you think of his father.”
“I don’t think of his father,” said Verity simply. She tied the last lace on the sleeping gown, picked up the babe, and placed him in her sister’s arms. “Look at him. He has nothing to do with Sir William Vernham.”
Chastity settled the soft burden in her arms, unwillingly captivated by the magic of a baby. “He is Sir William Vernham,” she pointed out as she made the faces the child seemed to like.
Verity stopped clearing away the soiled clothes. “I know. But he’s a different one.” She added fiercely, “He won’t be the same kind of man. I’ll make sure of that. And now that Sir William’s dead it will be a great deal easier.”
Chastity looked up sharply. “Be careful not to say so in front of anyone but me, Verity, or your brother-in-law will think to raise a cry of murder.”
Verity blanched. “How could he do that? William died when his heart gave out in the arms of his mistress.”
“True, but men are capable of anything in pursuit of their ends, especially Vernham. The magistrates would probably credit you with a poison too subtle for human detection.”
“Not all men are cruel,” said Verity gently. “Nathaniel is a good man.”
“I suppose so, but if the world was just, you’d have been permitted to marry him.”
“Oh, Chastity . . .”
“Father knew you loved Nathaniel, and yet he forced you to marry Sir William—a fat old squire with more money than taste.” She put the baby up to her shoulder and patted his back.
Verity bit her lip. “It is a daughter’s duty to marry where her father wills.”
“So ’tis said, but it would be pleasant to at least see the purpose in the sacrifice. Father not only married you to Sir William but also tried to make me marry his brother. What could he gain from such an alliance?”
Verity put soiled cloths in a bucket. “I don’t know,” she confessed.
“One thing is clear,” said Chastity. “You have done your duty. You are not even to consider obliging Father again. You are to marry Nathaniel.”
Verity nodded. “I am determined on it, though my conscience plagues me. I wish I had your resolution.”
“Faith,” said Chastity with a shudder, “it was seeing your marriage that gave me the strength to resist Father over mine. Sir William was a vile man and his brother, though smoother on the outside, is cut from the same cloth. I can certainly believe he would plot to murder an infant.”
“But I don’t know how you found the courage to stand up to Father. Look at me now. The only way I can try to thwart him is by running away.”
Chastity stood and placed the sleepy baby gently in his bed and covered him with a blanket.
Then she wandered over to the tiny gable window to look blindly out at the garden, illuminated only by the square of light from the kitchen window.
“I honestly don’t know if I would have been brave enough, Verity, if I’d known .
. . I never imagined he would go so far.
But once I’d started to resist I somehow could not stop . . .”
Verity gathered her sister into her arms and the two young women clung to one another.
“Only two years ago,” said Verity, “we were happy and full of hope. What happened?” But then she pulled herself together.
“We must go down to supper.” She picked up the bucket and glanced at her sister.
“Don’t you think you should change into a gown, dearest, with a man here? ”
Chastity wiped away her tears and stiffened her spine. “Assuredly not. It wouldn’t be wise to let him know he’s dealing with three females.”
“Oh, Chastity,” Verity protested. “He’s a gentleman.”
“How the devil can you think that a recommendation? Sir William was a gentleman. Henry Vernham and Father are supposedly gentlemen. And besides being a gentleman, our prisoner is a Malloren. They’re handsome men, and have a fascinating air, but they’d all cut your throat before they’d step aside on the road.
Don’t be taken in by Cyn Malloren’s lovely lashes. ”
Verity chuckled. “Amazing, aren’t they? I really can’t fear a man who looks like that.”
Chastity’s tone was curt. “I’m sure a lot of people have made the same mistake. A fatal one.”
“Really, Chastity. You can’t think him deadly. Shooting pheasant is probably the closest he’s come to bloodshed in his life.”
Chastity shook her head. “He’s dangerous, Verity. I can sense it. Please try to call me Charles at all times, or at least Chas. And don’t reveal our full names. Rothgar and Father have been at daggers drawn for years. Let Cyn Malloren know we are Wares and all hell will break loose.”
Verity shook her head at this but made no objection. She checked William, then blew out the candle and led the way toward the stairs. She hesitated at the top of the steep flight. “Chas, what if he tries to marry you off again?”
“Father?” Chastity laughed harshly. “That’s the only blessing. My defiance pushed him into ruining me with absolute thoroughness. No man is ever going to want to marry the Notorious Chastity Ware.”
Cyn watched her stride through the room and go upstairs. She had found the pistol, and so he assumed she was convinced of his good intentions. She didn’t appear particularly mellowed.
He wanted to see her smile. He wanted her to talk to him, to tell him her problems so he could shoulder her burdens. He was surprised to find that on very brief acquaintance he had developed a warm appreciation for his captor’s spirit, and for her unconventional appearance.
That sleek, otter-fur hairstyle was extremely strange, but it showed off a beautifully shaped skull. Why had he never realized the potential beauty in a skull? He relished the notion of stroking that sleek head as much as he would anticipate running his hands through a mass of silken curls.
That hair also pulled into focus the clear strong lines of her face—the smooth, high forehead, the straight chiseled nose, the firm jaw.
Even those ordinary blue-gray eyes, when properly framed, were unforgettable.
She was decidedly not in the common style of women, but then, he had never favored the common.
She carried herself with the fluent pride of a male—shoulders straight, stride purposeful. He found it surprisingly erotic, and regretted that the male attire had presumably only been put on for the robbery. He wondered how she would appear in a gown.
He wasn’t to find out. She still wore breeches when she came down the stairs.
As the two sisters passed through the room to go to the kitchen, he said, “Are you convinced I will do you no harm, Charles?”
She turned and looked at him. “As long as you’re tied to the bed, my lord, I’m entirely convinced.”
“Afraid to deal with me at liberty, are you?”
She set her hands on her hips. “Not at all. But why should I bother to try?”
She was wonderful. “Fair play,” he said amiably. “I have done nothing dishonorable.”
She smiled. “Helping highwaymen is not precisely honorable, my lord.”
He smiled with equal insincerity. “My apologies. I didn’t realize you wanted your neck stretched. I’ll see to it at the first opportunity.”
“I know. That’s why you’re spread-eagled.”
He bit back a laugh. Fencing with her was the best fun he’d had in months. What a woman. Which gave him a new weapon. “Strange way to tie a man, this,” he said. “You the sort who likes to ogle other men’s bodies, young Charles?”
Prodded by his words, she looked him over and her color flared, ripping through her disguise. She looked totally female, and an innocent, flustered female at that. The situation was giving him an erection.
“Stop it, both of you,” said Verity, coming at him with a carving knife. She took in the bulge in his breeches with a mere quirk of her eyebrows. “I think the man’s quite right,” she said to her sister. “He’s done nothing to warrant such treatment. He can come and eat with us.”
“Verity, stop that!” snapped Charles. But Verity had already cut the strips of cloth tying Cyn to the bed, and he gratefully swung up into the vertical, working the numbness out of his wrists.
“My dear sir,” he said, delighted to be able to fence from a position of equality, “I appreciate your sister’s kindness, but if you are the master of this house, shouldn’t you be able to control your womenfolk a little better?”
Her eyes flashed. “With a whip, perhaps?”
Cyn winked at Verity. “Is your sister so unruly?”
“Oh, do stop it, my lord,” said Verity, though she was struggling not to laugh. “You’re taunting just to strike sparks. If you carry on this way, I’ll tie you up again.”