Chapter 18
Chastity shook her head. She didn’t want to go over it again, when he wouldn’t believe her, and could do nothing about it if he did.
“Don’t you want to resolve this?” he asked.
“It can’t be done.”
“Let us at least try.”
The sheer power of his will shattered hers. Haltingly, she told the story, even including her father’s part in it.
“Walgrave did this to force you into marriage with the likes of Vernham?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” They were back to fencing, but the fact that he was challenging her meant he took the matter seriously. It was more reassuring than daunting.
“Does it seem reasonable to you?” he asked. “What you would expect from your father?”
She looked away from those indomitable gray eyes. “Not at the time. Now, I don’t know. I think he’s mad.”
“Why do you say that? What has he done since?”
Chastity didn’t want to talk about it. “Lord Rothgar, this is pointless. There’s nothing to be done.”
“There’s always something to be done, but I need all the facts.” When she still hesitated, he said, “Don’t you want to take your rightful place in Society again, to marry Cyn without a cloud over your name, to be happy?”
Tears swelled in her eyes. “It’s impossible . . .”
“With a Malloren,” he repeated, “nothing is impossible. Well?”
Chastity sighed. “As you say, there’s the matter of Father trying to force me into marriage with Vernham, which made no sense. There’s also the desperation with which Father has been pursuing Verity. He claimed it was paternal concern, but there is something more. I don’t know what, though.”
“He claimed? When was this?”
Chastity fiddled with the fan. “He caught me in Maidenhead. I thought he’d be furious to find me there in men’s clothing . . .” She realized Rothgar wouldn’t know of her disguise, and faced him defiantly, “I’ve been dressing as a man for months.”
“That doubtless accounts for a certain refreshing briskness in your manner. Was there a reason?”
Chastity didn’t want to talk about that either, but after a moment she took off her wig.
“Ah,” he said softly. “Your father?”
She nodded and restored her appearance.
“A not-inappropriate punishment for an erring daughter, I suppose. Was that the sum of it?”
She told herself the whippings had been more to force her to the altar than to punish her. “Except for the clothes.” At his look she said, “They came from the local house of correction.”
“And you preferred something more suitable. I salute you, my dear. So, your father did not rage at your unseemly dress, but . . . what?”
“He believed I knew where Verity was, and he wanted her. His anger toward me seemed mainly because he thought I’d encouraged her to evade him. I know he regards his daughters as mere pawns for his playing, but his manner was not in keeping with the situation.”
Rothgar leaned his head back and contemplated the painted ceiling. “And Lady Verity fled . . . why?”
“She didn’t trust Henry Vernham. As soon as he turned up to take his position as guardian, she feared he would do little William some injury.”
Rothgar studied the ceiling with rapt attention. A clock chimed the quarter, dimly echoed elsewhere in the house. A coal rolled, sparking in the grate. At last he spoke. “Why did your father marry Lady Verity to Sir William? He too was a nonentity.”
Chastity couldn’t stand this. “I don’t know. Don’t you think we’ve struggled to understand it? Nothing makes any sense, but what’s done is done. If Verity ends up safe and happy, I’ll be content.”
He lowered his eyes. “But that will not solve Cyn’s problem, and I fear even your sister’s happiness may be in jeopardy. Unhindered, your father could make the new couple’s life extremely difficult.”
That was all too true. “But what can I do?”
“Help me discover what is behind all this. There is something, something we can use. I can smell it. Tell me everything. Every little thing.”
In her own cause, Chastity couldn’t have done it, but for Verity she would do anything.
She went over every confrontation with her father, recalling his words as best she could, detailing—eyes on the fan—his minor and major cruelties.
She could be particularly clear about her time in Maidenhead, as that had been so recent.
If her story affected the marquess, it did not show in his face or voice. “So your father asked particularly about why Verity had not run to him.”
“Yes, but he would be surprised. I think, despite all, he believes himself to be a good father.”
“What reason for her actions could frighten him?”
“Frighten him?” Chastity echoed in surprise.
“Oh, yes, Chastity. You have been telling me about a very frightened man. He must have thought Verity was avoiding him because she knew something to his detriment.”
“She knew he’d mistreated me.”
“Would that matter with him?”
Chastity had to shake her head.
“I think,” said Rothgar, “this matter hinges on the death of Sir William Vernham.”
Chastity frowned. “But it can’t. He died of a seizure and anyway, it happened after my problems.”
“The same factors could be behind both. What connection existed between Sir William and your father, before Verity’s marriage?”
“None.”
“Think,” he said sharply.
Chastity snapped back, “None, I tell you. Sir William was a nobody, a lowly squire, with more money than breeding.”
“He was rich?”
“Not by your standards, or Father’s, but richer than most of his sort. Fort said he made his money as a Special Investigator after the ’45, stealing valuables or taking bribes to overlook evidence of treason. Loathsome man.”
“Yet when this loathsome man asked for Verity’s hand, he was given it,” Rothgar mused. “He must have had a hold over your father. Can you imagine what?”
“No. Father is the Incorruptible, remember. He doesn’t gamble, he is moderate in drink, I have never heard even a rumor of women . . .”
“What about treason?” The words dropped like a stone.
“What?”
“Would your father sacrifice his daughter, both his daughters, to save his head?”
“Treason! Father!”
He leaped to his feet and began to prowl, reminding Chastity of nothing so much as a hunting beast. “Treason,” he repeated.
“It smells. It smells right. The one thing that is certain about the Earl of Walgrave is his ambition. What if he lost his nerve back in the ’45 and thought Bonnie Prince Charlie might be victorious? ”
“But he’s always been strong against the Jacobites!”
“Words cost little. His friendship with Prince Frederick tied him to Hanover, but with the Royal Family packing their bags as the Jacobites approached London, he might have seen everything slipping away. There is still a memory in the land of the way things were when the Stuarts returned in 1660, and Charles II rewarded his faithful friends. Little chance then for a servant of the Commonwealth, no matter how worthy. Not too surprising if your father made discreet contact with the Jacobites.”
Chastity was numb with shock.
The marquess continued, almost lovingly, “And what if some evidence fell into the hands of Special Investigator Sir William Vernham, and the man had wits enough to conceal it in such a way that merely killing him would do the earl no good? You know, those investigators did not generally make a great deal of money out of their unpleasant work. Few of the guilty had much to offer, and few situations here in the south of England were ripe for that kind of plucking. But the Earl of Walgrave . . .” He smiled.
“Vernham must have received his income from the earl for over fifteen years.”
“And Verity?” Chastity asked.
“Perhaps Sir William wanted to tighten his hold on the earl. Possibly he genuinely desired your sister. There would be her dowry to consider as well. Perhaps it was simply an abuse of power, the taunting of a chained lion. A very dangerous thing to do. I wonder if that was not the blow that broke your father’s mind.
Money to men like us is of little account, but to be forced to link his blood with such a cur .
. .” Rothgar’s voice was almost a snarl at the thought.
“And it was demanded again with me . . . But then why did he try to force me to it so cruelly?”
“Because Sir William still had the whip hand.” Rothgar stared at nothing. “Perhaps still has it, even in death.”
“What do you mean?”
“If there is evidence, where is it? Your father must be desperate, no longer knowing from whom to expect attack.”
“What of Henry Vernham?”
“I doubt he would have been seeking the child if he’d had a greater source of treasure in his hands.”
Chastity sucked in a breath. “Unless he is seeking that source . . .”
Rothgar turned sharply to her.
“Perhaps he hasn’t been seeking the child to murder him, but seeking what his brother had.
He must think Verity holds the key . . .
Lord Rothgar!” Chastity exclaimed. “Verity has been carrying around this document. Sir William impressed upon her that if he died, she must take it to the Lord Chief Justice in London. She supposed it affected the inheritance, so she took it when she fled . . .”
His eyes were bright. “Where is the document now?”
“She has it with her. But Lord Rothgar,” Chastity said urgently, “even if your speculations are correct, we can’t use it! It would not only destroy Father, but all of us. The property would be seized by the Crown . . . Fort . . .”
“It won’t come to that,” he assured her. “But if it is an incriminating document, it is a powerful weapon. It will certainly gain the earl’s acceptance of your and Verity’s marriages.”
“And will prevent him from destroying Verity’s Nathaniel. But then someone else will be Father’s enemy. I fear it will be you.”