Chapter 16
Chastity entered Walgrave House with the usual shiver of distaste.
It would always remind her of her hated father; of the scandal, the whippings, and the horrible feeling of having the hair shaved off her head.
This time last year, it had reached halfway down her back in a thick mass of golden-brown curls.
When she’d met Cyn, it had been little more than a stubble. Even now it only brushed her shoulders.
None of that disaster had really been Fort’s fault, though.
He’d been with the group who had caught her with Vernham in her bed.
Why should he or anyone suspect it to be a contrivance to force her into an unwanted marriage, a contrivance abetted by her own father?
During her suffering, when her father used his rights as an outraged parent to try to break her spirit, she had never imagined that Fort would ride to her rescue.
They had all learned in the nursery never to cross the will of the mighty Incorruptible.
Fort felt guilty about it, though, and she didn’t know whether that was good or bad. It certainly complicated his attitude toward the Mallorens.
Mutual support lay at the root of the code that Rothgar had instilled into his half-siblings. Even Fort’s brief stay at Rothgar Abbey must have shown him that, making stark the contrast with the Ware family life.
All this lay in the past, though, and brooding over it could do no good. If only she could convince her brother of that.
At Fort’s bedroom door, she knocked and was admitted by his valet, the rather strange Dingwall. She had no idea why Fort kept him on. At least the man slithered away, leaving her alone with her bed-bound brother and another visitor.
“Jack Travers,” Fort said, quite strongly, though he still looked feverish. “Jack, do you know my sister Chastity? Lady Cynric Malloren.”
Chastity didn’t miss the momentary startled pause before Travers kissed her outstretched hand.
Though an explanation had been spread through society, and the queen and king had received her at St. James a number of times, there were still some who remembered Chastity Ware as the most flaming scandal of the decade.
“Lady Raymore, actually,” she said with a grin. “The king gave Cyn a title for—” She bit her lip, remembering that the attempt on the king’s life was to be kept as secret as possible.
“Oh, don’t worry, chatterbox,” said Fort. “Jack already has a good part of the story. It’s whirling through town like wildfire. It won’t appear in the news sheets, of course, and will grow stranger with every telling. So, what’s this about a title?”
She ignored the bitter edge tingeing his voice, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “The king gave Cyn a viscountcy for saving his life. I didn’t tell you earlier for fear of sending you into a relapse.”
He pulled a face at her words, but only said, “I might have known Rothgar would turn everything to his advantage.”
“Then he should have gained himself a dukedom, don’t you think? And he had nothing to do with it.”
“Rothgar?” Fort laughed sharply. “He never does an unpremeditated act. He sent Cyn on that mission. He could have released me, and sent me.”
“Heavens above! Never say you pine for a dukedom!”
He flushed. “Of course I don’t. I’m merely pointing out that everyone knows what happens to people who bring the monarch good news.”
“I would hardly call news that he was standing by a lethal object good. And isn’t there also a saying about bearers of bad news?”
Fort leaned back into his pillows. “We’re squabbling, sister dear. Very bad form before a guest.”
Travers bowed. “In fact, I must leave, Fort, so you can squabble in peace. Know how it is. I have sisters, too. My lady.”
With that, he left the room.
Chastity didn’t mention Travers’s obvious uneasiness in her presence, but Fort said, “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t start that again,” she said briskly, taking a chair by his bed. “None of what happened was your fault, and if you’d tried to interfere, Father would have destroyed you. After all, you weren’t his only hope of dynastic succession. There’s Victor.”
“I should have done something.”
“What? And looking back, I’m not sure I would want any of it changed. If Vernham hadn’t slipped into my bed, I would never have met Cyn.”
“The fount of all blessings.”
Chastity stared at her tight-jawed brother. “You can’t be jealous of Cyn!”
“Jealous? That would suggest tastes both illegal and immoral. But I wish I had rescued and supported you.”
Chastity took his hand, wishing she knew a way to straighten all this out. In the end, it seemed, Fort was the only one left suffering. “Once you realized the truth, you did help me.”
“As I remember, I tried to throttle you when I found you were Malloren’s lover.”
“An understandable reaction to shock. Now, how are you feeling?”
He accepted the change of subject. “Better than yesterday. Which isn’t saying much. My leg feels twice its size, and under that damned cage, I can’t see a thing.” A huge wicker cage covered his lower body, keeping the bed covers off the wound.
“The doctor says it’s healing properly.”
“Damn sawbones.” He looked up at her. “Chas, can I ask you to look at the wound? I know it’s unpleasant . . .”
She could have cried with joy to be asked. They’d not been close before the scandal, and ever since, her place in the Malloren family had been a barrier.
“Don’t be silly.” She was already rising and stripping off her gloves. “Of course I will. Do you think it infected?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t trust them all. They never stop smiling. They say if I move too much I could start the bleeding again, but perhaps they just don’t want me to know—”
She gripped his shoulder. “I’ll look, and I’ll tell you the truth.”
She peeled the blankets off the cage, pushing him back down on his pillows when he tried to rise to see. “Trust me. I am your eyes.” Then she lifted the wicker cage from his heavily bandaged leg. “I’m not sure if I should disturb all these dressings, though.”
“Do it. We can always get someone back to dress it again.”
“Are you sure? I can tell there’s no sign of infection in the uncovered part of the leg.”
“Don’t bother then . . .”
But she could tell he was just trying to let her escape a task she didn’t want. He must be fretting himself to death.
“It’s no bother. I’ll have to move your leg a bit to unbandage it, though.”
“Just do it.” He had flung an arm over his eyes.
Resolving to stop at any sign of bleeding, she gently raised his leg and began to unwind the bandages. “It might be stuck. I’m not going to rip it off. Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
She suspected he was lying, but his need to know the truth seemed greater than any pain. She prayed silently that he was wrong, and that the wound was healing. What if he had to lose the leg?
The bandages were not stuck, and easily came off a final pad of cloth. “I don’t suppose these are the original dressings anyway.”
“Bryght Malloren bandaged me on the wharf. The doctors ripped those off.”
“Ouch.”
“Ouch, indeed. They were in a hurry to extract the ball. It was deep, they said, and came damned close to the bone. They’ve been under there twice since. So, how does it look?”
She carefully raised the pad to expose a jagged, stitched wound.
“You’ll have an interesting scar,” she said, but smiled at him. “Still red and puffy, but I see no sign of trouble.”
He leaned up. “Get a mirror and show me.”
Chastity straightened and looked at him. “Why do I feel you are not the ideal patient?” But she heaved an oval, gilt-edged mirror off the wall and held it so he could inspect his leg.
After a moment, his expression lightened. “It doesn’t look too bad, does it? It feels worse. As if it’s swollen to twice its size and oozing pus.” He smiled for her, almost the lighthearted open smile she remembered from before disaster. “Thank you.”
Chastity replaced the mirror, taking the chance to steady her lips. Fort deserved happiness, and she thought perhaps it lay within his grasp with Elf, and yet she knew the barriers between them might be too strong to be breached.
Steady smile in place, she returned to replace the bandages. “Do they think you will limp?”
“They say not, but I don’t trust their unctuous reassurances. I’ll be grateful, I suppose, to be alive and mobile. Perhaps I’ll even be grateful not to be a suitable candidate for a duel.”
Chastity was straightening the covers over the cage. “I would be very cross if you fought Cyn, you know.”
“Have done. A sickbed gives plenty of time to think and I’ve been thinking. If the whole mess was anyone’s fault, it was Father’s, and he’s beyond reach. I’m through with Mallorens. Instead, I’m going to use my energies and powers to put right what Father put wrong.”
Chastity listened approvingly to plans to improve conditions on the earldom’s land, and to support worthy causes in parliament.
All the time, however, her heart ached for Elf, who was surely included in that wholesale rejection of Mallorens.
It ached for Fort, too, who might never know the kind of love she had found.
If she could see any point, she might even try to delay their departure from England to help sort out the tangle, but she had little hope.
They moved on to chat of general subjects, but she noticed that he never mentioned Elf or showed any curiosity about her safety.
Perhaps he’d received a report.
Perhaps he really didn’t care.
Dingwall returned, a doctor in tow. A smiling, bowing sawbones whom she would suspect if she were the patient. But Fort’s treatment had clearly been effective, so she made no objection. She rose and took her brother’s hand to say good-bye.
It wasn’t until she opened the door that he broke.
“Lady Elfled,” he said, “I assume she is well?”
“Oh, perfectly,” said Chastity, and left with a grain of hope in her heart.