Chapter 3 #2
Cyn turned to Verity. “So where will he think you’ve gone?”
She shrugged. “I hope he doesn’t have the slightest idea. He clearly thought I would come here. He might think I’d go to London. He can know nothing of my life before I married his brother.”
“What of your family?” asked Cyn. “Can they not help?”
Another revealing look passed between the sisters. Charles answered. “What would I be doing here in this cottage if we had a useful family?”
“In disgrace?” Cyn suggested. “Sent down from school perhaps?”
That hit a mark, though she concealed it well. “You have it, my lord. We do not want to seek help from our family because they would not allow Verity to marry Nathaniel.”
Cyn had a rule of survival which had served him well: act as if the worst was true.
He rose and paced the small room. “The child’s guardian has the law on his side.
He’ll doubtless have left word, even posters, at tollbooths and major inns.
Even if he doesn’t know about Maidenhead, the toll roads will be closely watched. You wouldn’t get far on the stage.”
Charles said, “We had planned on a disguise.”
“Of what kind?”
Another uncomfortable glance between the sisters. “Verity is going to dress as a nursemaid,” said Charles. “We’re also going to darken her hair.”
“And you?”
“I don’t need a disguise.”
Cyn leaned forward on the table. “Horrible Henry is going to come back here to check again. When he finds you gone, he’ll know to look for you.”
She met his eyes. “We’ll be in Maidenhead by then.”
Now that Cyn could escort Verity, the obvious solution was for Charles to stay behind, but apart from the fact that the chit wouldn’t agree, Cyn didn’t want that. He had a lot of exploring of his damsel yet to do.
He paced again as he weighed the options. “So Horrible Henry is looking for a fair-haired lady with a child. As soon as he checks here, he’ll know he’s looking for said lady plus youthful escort.” He waited for the correction that never came.
He considered Charles. “What a shame you can’t act the part of a lady . . .” He ignored Verity’s twitching lips and a strangled sound from Nana, and pretended to study the girl. “No, I don’t think you could pull it off. I can’t see you simpering.”
Color flushed her face. “Thank the stars for that!”
“Well then, could you play the groom?”
With a spark of interest, Charles nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I know how to care for horses. Will you be the coachman, then?”
“No. I’ll ride into Shaftesbury and hope Hoskins is still at the Crown. He can drive us.”
“He’ll ask a lot of questions.”
“He certainly will,” said Cyn. “Especially when I tell him I’ll be in petticoats.” He gazed benignly at the three thunderstruck faces. “We’ll outfox any pursuers for sure, for I’m going to be the baby’s mother.”
“You’re going to play the woman?” Charles said in disbelief.
“Unless you insist on the honor.” Cyn fluttered his lush lashes. “But I think it wiser this way. I’m prettier than you, and I know how to simper.”
He loved the battle which raged across her features. A very natural pique at having her looks disparaged was chased by a flash of malicious amusement—doubtless at the thought of seeing him in a stomacher and petticoats.
In that he was quite correct. Chastity was bemused and frustrated by this damn male who had invaded her life, and seemed well on the way to taking over. She hoped he hated the lacing, and looked ridiculous in a gown.
As for being plain and unable to play the part of a lady, devil a bit he knew about it.
Both the Earl of Walgrave’s daughters had been drilled and disciplined into perfect ladies, mistresses of all the feminine arts.
How else could their father hope to strengthen his political web through their marriages?
Lord Cyn, she told herself crossly, was not prettier. Chastity had been declared a belle during her time in London. She’d had half the Town at her feet, including—in his cool way—Cyn’s brother, the Marquess of Rothgar, the matrimonial prize of the decade.
Abruptly the humor of the situation hit her, and she bit her lip against laughter. She as the handsome boy. He as the pretty lady. She wished she were alone with Verity and could let the laughter out. It was far too long since she’d laughed.
Cyn saw the tremble of her lips and the twinkle in her eyes. He wished she would express her amusement. He suspected she would be beautiful when she laughed.
He set to persuading his kidnappers to allow him to ride into Shaftesbury to deal with his servants and buy some women’s clothing. Charles grudgingly went to obtain a mount—presumably from the nearby big house which was these ladies’ rightful home.
When she returned she brought two riding horses.
“You are accompanying me?” Cyn asked. “Do you think that wise?”
“I think it wise to keep an eye on you, my lord.”
“You surely will be recognized so close to home.”
She looked amused. “Why do you think that would be a problem? I am not the fugitive. Verity is.”
“Still,” said Cyn, “it might be best if no one realizes there is any connection between you and me. Let’s begin your metamorphosis to groom. Do you have any less elegant clothes?”
“No,” she said unhelpfully.
“Then let’s see what the coach has to offer.” He set off for the orchard at a brisk pace. At sight of the mutilated doors, he stopped. “Was that really necessary?”
“I thought there would be a hunt for it.” Chastity hated the tremor of nervousness in her voice.
He looked at her coolly. “You are a hellion, aren’t you?
Was this supposed to be a hit at me? This is my brother’s coach, not mine.
You won’t sit for a week if Rothgar finds out.
” He considered the vehicle. “We’ll buy some paint, and you can cover the damage.
A plain coach will cause no comment; a brutalized one will. ”
Without waiting for her response, he climbed up and reached into the box under the seat.
He pulled out a bundle and dropped it down.
“Harry’s,” he said as he returned to earth.
“The real groom. He’s a mite taller than you, but not much.
” He undid the bundle and produced a rough shirt, a pair of patched breeches, and a neckerchief.
“All quite clean too,” he remarked as he tossed them to her.
“How fortunate. You’ll have to keep your own coat, hat, and boots.
If you’re wise, you’ll rough ’em up a bit. ”
“That will be a pleasure.” Chastity turned. “I’ll go back to Nana’s and change.”
Cyn leaned against the coach, arms folded. “Are you just naturally modest,” he asked, “or do you harbor nasty suspicions? I assure you, Charles, that my taste in bed-partners is . . . conventional.”
Chastity felt her color rise again and damned it. “I never thought otherwise,” she said, beating a retreat. “As you say, I’m just modest.”
His voice floated after her. “Are you sure you’ve been to school?”
Chastity marched into the cottage and slammed the door. “I wish I’d left that man by the roadside!”
Verity looked up from the box she was packing, a distinct twinkle in her eye. “I think he’s going to be an asset. No one will be looking for a brown-haired older lady, with her baby and wetnurse.”
“I could have played the mother.”
“You wouldn’t look old enough not to be me, and your hair is a problem. Wigs are so chancy. Many men still shave their heads and wear one, but not ladies.”
Chastity’s hand went to the silky fuzz where so recently there had been lustrous curls.
“Oh, Chastity,” said Verity, rising to come to her. “I’m sorry for mentioning it. And it will grow, dearest.”
“It’s already growing,” said Chastity, “but I can’t forget how it felt when Father shaved it off.
And the things he said . . .” She shuddered, then shook off the memories.
“But see. Father’s done me a favor. I look ridiculous as a woman, but I make a fine boy and no one suspects.
Who would think a woman would cut her hair this short? ”
“Father will come around—”
“No,” said Chastity sharply. “Don’t mention his name. He’s as good as cast me off, and I have renounced him.”
Verity sighed. “I’m sure he meant it for the best.”
“I’m not. I’m sure he wanted his own way, as always.”
“But he is our father, dearest . . .”
“Then why haven’t you rushed into his loving arms?”
Verity picked up a pair of stockings and rolled them. “I confess, I cannot feel as I should toward him after the way he treated you.”
Chastity hugged her, knowing how hard this unfilial behavior was for conventional Verity. It had taken a great deal for her own trust in the mighty Earl of Walgrave to be destroyed. “You are doing the right thing. Believe me, Father is not infallible, nor is he the Incorruptible he is called.”
Verity surprised her. “I fear you may be right. I have been thinking about what you said yesterday. My marriage to Sir William does make little sense, and when matched with Father’s attempt to marry you to Henry, the absurdity is made clear.
Do you think perhaps he is becoming feeble-witted with age? ”
Chastity cracked a laugh. “ ’Struth, I do not! Father is as shrewd as ever, and doubtless had his reasons—as always, linked to his thirst for power. You know how obsessed he’s been since Prince Frederick died ten years back.”
She smiled grimly at the thought. The Earl of Walgrave had been of an age with Frederick, Prince of Wales, and his close friend.
He had pinned all his ambitions to him, just waiting for the old king to die and Frederick to assume the throne.
However, Frederick had inconsiderately died before his father, leaving his young son the heir.
That young son, now King George III, was firmly under the influence of his mother, the Princess Augusta, and the handsome Scot, Lord Bute.
The Earl of Walgrave was out of power.
“Poor Father,” said Chastity with spurious sympathy. “He really should have paid more attention to Augusta, shouldn’t he?”