Chapter 17 #3
The tickling little fear came back to her. What if she were pregnant? But she wouldn’t let that sway her. She must find a way to cut Cyn free. She would handle other problems when she had to.
When she returned to the bedroom, Lady Elfled smiled at her. “Do dress. I can’t wait to see that gown on you. I’m sure it will be perfect.”
Chantal assisted Chastity into the hoop frame which would hold the light skirts out without the bulk of heavy petticoats. The white silk petticoat that went on top hardly weighed a thing. The brocade stomacher felt comfortingly secure around her torso and over her breasts.
Chastity watched in the mirror as the layers performed a magical alchemy upon her appearance. Her spirits lifted. It was like armor—a fragile, gossamer armor, but armor all the same. Within it she felt all woman, and empowered.
“You have a lovely figure,” said Elf frankly. “Your waist is trimmer than mine. To achieve that effect, I’d have to be gasping.”
When Chantal had tied the stomacher laces, she held up the gown and Chastity slid her arms into the sleeves. The maid fastened it at the front and, with a slither of silk on silk, the outfit was complete.
“Parfait,” breathed Chantal.
“Indeed,” said Elf. “That certainly is your color.”
Chastity smiled at the image in the mirror. The deep pink brought out roses in her cheeks and lips; the beautiful cut of the stomacher pushed up the swell of her breasts without the slightest hint of indecency; the opaque silk of the chemise covered that swell in a soft, tantalizing cloud.
She moved, feeling the light silken skirts sway and dance, held out to a six-foot span by the hoops. She twirled and sank into a court-curtsy, laughing for the delight of being a woman.
Elf took her hands to raise her. “Oh,” she said, “I wish I had what you have!”
“What is that?” asked Chastity.
“A power over men.”
Chastity felt her face burn. “I don’t . . . If I do, it has served me ill.”
“Has it?” asked Elf, rather sadly. “But you have Cyn ready to fight dragons for you.”
Chastity didn’t understand the wistfulness in the other woman’s eyes. Surely Lady Elfled Malloren, with her rank, her dowry, her looks, and her sweet nature, had attracted the attention of many men. “I’m sure any man would be willing to fight dragons for you too, Elf.”
“Perhaps,” said Elf, but with a sigh. Then, “Come,” she said briskly, before Chastity could comment, “let Chantal apply a little maquillage to conceal that bruise, and we will see what my august brother has planned.”
Chastity sat obediently for the maid to work. “I don’t care for heavy paint,” she told the girl.
“Bien s?r que non,” said the maid. “This is for country wear, after all, milady. Just a cream over the meurtrissure, and a little rouge on the cheeks and lips . . .”
When the skillful maid finished, the bruise was scarcely noticeable, and Chastity’s looks were subtly enhanced. Chastity smiled. “You are a genius, Chantal.”
“Bien entendu,” said the maid complacently. “I will select other garments for you, milady.” She twinkled a mischievous, three-pointed smile. “Be assured that they are ones Milady Elf should never wear.”
“Horrid monster,” said Elf, without rancor. “She has the right of it, though. You’ll be doing a kindness by removing temptation. Chantal, dispose of those old clothes.”
The maid gathered Chastity’s garments, then gave a little cry of annoyance. “I have pricked myself!”
Before Chastity could say anything, she had pulled out the pearl pin. “Is this yours, milady?”
Chastity thought of denying it, but she could see a wide-eyed Elf had already recognized it. “Yes,” she said, and took it, weary of deceptions and deceit. She fixed it in the front of her stomacher, then looked at Elf, who had become very pale. “Rothgar’s not my lover,” she said.
“Oh,” Elf murmured. “Good. Really, I don’t know what would happen if two of my brothers fought over the same lady . . . Are you ready to go down?”
Chastity looked in the mirror again, and despite her appearance, trembled at the thought of facing Rothgar. She needed a weapon. “I think . . . I really think I need a fan.”
In a moment she had one, a painted cream parchment. She flipped it open, then let it riffle shut. She took a deep breath. “Now,” she said, “I am ready.”
They found Rothgar in the Tapestry Room. He was staring thoughtfully into the fire, but turned at their entrance. Chastity saw genuine admiration flicker over his features, and he gave her a deep bow.
“Lady Chastity, I am reminded why my brother is ensorcelé.”
Chastity curtsied deeply. She flicked open her fan and regarded him from behind its protection. “Your brother, Lord Rothgar, has never seen me like this.”
He raised her. “Then I rejoice for him even more.” He saw the pearl pin. His lack of surprise told her he’d known she was the half-dressed woman he had met on the stairs of Rood House. But since when had he known?
Elf looked between them anxiously, but Rothgar smiled at his sister, a smile of genuine warmth which said much about his feelings for his family. “If that gown was in your wardrobe, my dear, I am deeply grateful to Lady Chastity for coming among us to relieve you of it.”
“Horrid man. Some redheads can wear pink.”
“Some, yes. But not you, and not that shade, I fear.” He settled both ladies in chairs.
“I think we should assume that Cyn can deliver the license to Long Knotwell today. I believe an hour and a half in the coach should take us there. Perhaps we should leave in one hour. If it is necessary to stay the night, there will, no doubt, be somewhere to accommodate us.”
“I am to come too?” asked Elf.
“Assuredly. I must go, to escort Chastity. You must come with us as chaperone.”
Elf’s eyes flickered to the pin. Rothgar sighed. “What a low cast of mind you have to be sure, my dear. Lady Chastity did nothing unseemly for that bauble.” His eyes were satirical as he added to Chastity, “You may want to consider, however, whether you wish to explain it to Cyn.”
“I have done with subterfuge,” she said coolly.
“Excellent.” Chastity heard a wealth of meaning in that.
“Elf, my dear, perhaps you could arrange for some items for Lady Chastity to take with her in case we need to stay the night. If Chastity’s sister is also poorly clad, she would surely appreciate more sacrifices from your wardrobe, especially an outfit suitable for her wedding. ”
Generous Elf rose immediately. “Of course.” At the door she hesitated and raised her brows. “I thought I was to be chaperone, brother dear.”
Rothgar smiled at her. “I assure you, I never ravish my brothers’ promised brides.”
“None of your brothers has ever had a promised bride before,” she pointed out.
“Even so.”
With a shake of her head, Elf left.
Chastity pulled out the pin and offered it to Rothgar. “Here, my lord. You had best have it back. Not because of Cyn, but because I do not want it.”
He made no move to take it. “But it looks very well there, and you earned it.”
When he refused to take it, she let it fall to the carpet.
He ignored the valuable pin and considered Chastity. “When we kissed in London, I found you intriguing,” he said, startling her into unfurling her fan again. “I see my instincts were sound, as always.”
Chastity’s heart began to flutter. Dear Lord, not more complexities. She fanned in the rapid way that warned a gentleman that the topic was not to her taste. “Are you claiming to love me?”
“Oh, no,” he said calmly, watching her with those cool gray eyes. “If I loved you, none of this would have happened, would it? But you interested me . . .”
Chastity felt as if she were fencing with him, and suspected she was outclassed. She flipped the fan shut and tried a crude, slashing move. “I was with Cyn at Rood House.”
“But of course,” he parried lazily.
She threw another wild blow. “I intend to marry him.”
“But of course,” he said again, a master swordsman toying with a novice.
“Why ‘of course’?” she demanded.
“Because if you didn’t,” he remarked, “you’d be just the whore you are painted.”
It was a thrust at the heart. She looked down at the fan in her hands. “Perhaps I am,” she whispered.
“But I couldn’t possibly permit my brother to marry such a woman.”
Chastity felt hope leave her, hope of something she had determined to deny herself, and yet had clung to all the same. She raised her chin to face him. “You might not be able to stop him.”
She expected him to sneer at such a challenge, but instead he abandoned the contest and stared pensively into the fire. “You are quite correct. And I would not dare try to balk Cyn again.”
It appeared, incredibly enough, an admission of defeat. Chastity found that she was, quite unconsciously, drawing her open fan across her eyes in a message of sympathy. “Why not?” she asked.
“I have a somewhat autocratic tendency,” he said levelly.
As well say a wolf has sharp teeth, thought Chastity.
“When Cyn wanted to go soldiering, it seemed inappropriate. He was not even eighteen and looked younger. If a serious thought had ever crossed his mind, I had been unaware of it. On the other hand, I had extricated him from any number of scrapes, the consequences of which could have been serious. The army has a harsh way of dealing with mischief, even from its officers . . .”
He looked directly at her, and her fan was no protection at all. “You would not, of course, have ever seen a flogging.”
Chastity shook her head.
“Men are flogged even for mislaying their equipment. Fifty lashes, perhaps. For more serious offenses, the total rises into the hundreds. Officers are generally immune to such punishment. They can, of course, be shot. You must remember the execution of Admiral Byng, whose crime was not applying himself sufficiently to the relief of Minorca. He was shot, as Monsieur Voltaire so succinctly put it, ‘pour encourager les autres.”’
Chastity let the fan fall closed.
“I misjudged Cyn, of course,” said Rothgar contemplatively.
“It was boredom that led him into mischief. He has ordered and supervised any number of floggings, and at least two hangings.” He looked at her.
“I am not saying that is as difficult as enduring the punishment, but I am a magistrate, and I know it is not easy.”
Chastity tried to imagine Cyn in such a situation and failed.
Her winsome, lighthearted lover was capable of such harshness?
Then she remembered the casual story of the shelter made of corpses.
It had been a warning, deliberately given.
Did she know him at all? How could she expect to from less than a week of mayhem?
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, and it was a plea that he stop.
“To answer your question. You asked why I wouldn’t try to balk Cyn again.
When I refused to arrange his orderly entrance into military life, he ran away and took the shilling.
I extricated him from that, of course, and brought him home, but it became clear nothing short of chains would stop him.
I had to give in, but the lingering consequences of my misguided objections have been severe. ”
“What do you mean? He seems happy with his life.”
“After a fashion. But I set up barriers between him and his family, and by my very interference I prevented him from taking the easy way. I have almost killed him.”
“No. His illness was not your fault.”
“Wasn’t it? He would not give in to it.” His lips twisted in a kind of self-derision. “I haven’t given up my meddling, and I know what he does. Another man would have acknowledged that he was sick, and sought help. Cyn, however, feels he must constantly prove his self-sufficiency.”
Chastity didn’t know what to say. She rather feared Rothgar was right. She also knew it had cost the mighty marquess a great deal to be so honest with her; she could be no less.
“I don’t intend to marry him,” she said.
“Don’t you? But I must insist.”
Chastity stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Quite apart from his wishes, which are important to me, I remember Rood House. If you do not marry him, you are no better than you have been painted. I refuse to believe my judgment to be so at fault.”
Chastity erupted to her feet. “Damn your judgment! Do my wishes count for nothing?”
She half expected a slap, as Fort had slapped her, but Rothgar merely raised a brow. “Are you saying you do not wish to marry him?”
“Yes.”
“That the passion you have shared was just base lust?”
Chastity felt her face flame. She wanted to say yes, and deny him his victory, but the words wouldn’t come. It was as good as a denial.
He grasped her shoulders. Chastity flinched, but he said, “Peace, my dear. My intentions for once are both honorable and benign. You can no more deny Cyn the right to wed you than I could deny his right to choose his way in life. If you try, you risk pushing him into disaster, as I nearly did.”
“There can be no greater disaster for him than marriage to me.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “There is bound to be, and I assure you he will find it.”
Defeated, Chastity leaned forward against his shoulder.
To her dismay she began to cry, weary tears of despair.
Apart from Cyn, who was as much problem as support, this was the first strong shoulder to be offered her since before Henry Vernham had sneaked into her bed.
Rothgar said nothing, but his arms were firm about her, and his very aloofness was a part of his reassuring power.
When she conquered her tears, he sat her on the chaise and gave her a handkerchief.
“Lord Rothgar,” Chastity said, blowing her nose, “it cannot be. Even if he is able to weather being married to me, do you think I want to be forced to move in circles where every back will be turned on me?”
“Of course not,” he said, as if they were discussing the weather. “We will just have to straighten out those unfortunate rumors.”
“Unfortunate rumors!” She wondered if he was mad. “I am thoroughly ruined, my lord. There’s not a wellborn lady in England will stay in the same room as me.”
“Elf didn’t flee. Are you questioning her birth?”
“Of course not. She accepted me out of love for her brother.”
“Then we will have to hope he is widely loved.”
“You are being ridiculous.” She wondered at her temerity but faced him all the same. “I have no doubt Cyn would be drummed out of his regiment for marrying me.”
He raised his elegant black brows. “Then I would buy him another one. He should be a colonel anyway.”
Chastity was lost for words.
He sat down opposite her and stretched out his long legs. “Now, tell me why you were in bed with Henry Vernham.”