Chapter 20 #4
He drew back to smile at her and she could see the passion that marked him. “Because I desire you to the point of insanity.”
“But . . .”
“But I have a vow, and one I intend to keep. I hope,” he said, resting his head against hers, “not for much longer.”
“Oh, Cyn . . .” She stroked his hair gently. “I did not need that. Not really.”
“But I did.” He moved back and grinned. “Do you think me a noble martyr? Sweet Chastity, there is only one pleasure in the world greater than making you dissolve in ecstasy.”
She had to believe him honest. “I had no idea . . .” And the halting phrase expressed a world of ignorance.
“We will explore it together, along with a new land. Will you, beloved?”
She searched his masked features. “You really want to give up soldiering?”
“Yes.”
She surrendered to the dream. “And what would I do?”
“Explore with me . . . in and out of bed.” He began to deftly reorder her clothing. “We could have a home, perhaps in Montreal. Or there is a promising town being built called Halifax. It’s in Acadia on the east coast. You could stay there when you had to, and travel with me when you could.”
She captured his head and kissed him. “It sounds wonderful. Do you know, I have never much relished a life lived in drawing rooms.” She was wondering what would happen if she tested his vow.
“I do indeed know. I recognized a kindred spirit when we first met.” He removed himself from her hold. “A bold piece of goods.”
“It was probably the pistols that gave you the hint,” she murmured, moving toward him again.
He shook his head. “Doubtless. Give me your left hand, stealer of hearts.”
Chastity halted and held out her hand. He slipped a ring onto her finger, a gold fede ring made up of two clasped hands. She stared at it. “Oh, Cyn—”
He slid another ring on top, a hoop of diamonds. “It’s called a keeper ring,” he said. “King George has just set the fashion by giving one to his new bride. It sits on top, to guard the ring and the relationship from all harm. Do you know a diamond is the hardest stone?”
Chastity touched the beautiful rings and tears escaped the mask to roll down her cheeks. “Oh, Cyn, I’m so afraid. I’m afraid to hope. I’m still the Notorious Chastity Ware.”
He kissed the tears away. “Come and dance, my Lady Notorious. It’ll chase away care.”
Chastity lost herself in the dancing—the first time she had danced with Cyn—until she saw Nerissa Trelyn in her set.
This was Nerissa Trelyn the leader of Society, and she had done little to disguise herself. Her beautiful blonde hair was unpowdered, and a small feather mask did not disguise her features. Instead of a domino, she wore a flowing sacque gown of pristine white silk.
Chastity thought bitterly that she would look positively virginal if it weren’t for the wide, low neckline which made the most of her magnificent figure. If her identity was in the smallest doubt, she wore the magnificent Trelyn diamonds, given by her doting husband.
She partnered her husband with almost regal dignity, the Queen of Society. Lord Trelyn was not an old man—he must be about Rothgar’s age—but he acted as if he were sixty, while at the same time preening himself on the possession of this glorious creature.
Chastity felt some sympathy for Nerissa, until she remembered that this marriage had been the lady’s own choice, and that she had apparently jilted Bryght Malloren in the process, and was now the mistress of Lord Heatherington.
Chastity began again to scan the guests for her father, but in the dim atmosphere of the Chinese ballroom it was impossible to see far. There were even spices burning—incense or some such—and the silvery smoke from them and the candles fogged the air.
When the dance ended, she moved with Cyn into the refreshment room and drank some wine. “It is a magnificent affair, especially for one prepared in such a hurry.”
“The household is accustomed, and can do this at the drop of a hat.”
“And with a great deal of work,” Chastity pointed out.
“Of course. Rothgar is immensely rich. He considers it his duty to employ people.”
“My father is even richer, I believe. He counts the candles and checks the meals served in the servants’ hall.”
“Well, have some sympathy,” said Cyn with a twinkle of amusement. “He’s had to support the greedy Vernhams all these years.”
That was bringing matters to mind with a vengeance. Chastity shivered. “When are things to happen?”
“When the time is right. Why don’t we go and watch the gaming?”
“I thought you didn’t like gambling.”
He guided her out of the room. “I said I don’t like to gamble for money. It is very relaxing to see fools who can afford it throwing money away.”
They watched as Bute calmly lost thousands, then won some of it back; as Princess Augusta almost lost a bracelet worth a great deal more.
Chastity was not surprised to see old Lady Fanshaw hunched over her cards like a vulture.
She had doubtless been invited, but if not she would have turned up anyway, drawn by the rumor of play like a carrion-eater lured by the smell of a rotting corpse.
A footman presented a note to Cyn. He read it, then slipped it into his pocket. “The Garden Room,” he said.
Chastity’s heart started pounding as he led her from the room. “Father?” she whispered.
“It doesn’t say.” He stopped in a quiet corner to kiss her. “Be brave, Charles. This time, you are not alone.”