My Lady Notorious (41 page)

“Fort, stop this!”

He stopped, but only to stare at her. “Cyn Malloren! I knew I
remembered that name. He was at—” He broke off and then said, “At a
certain place.”

He was talking about Rood House.

“Have you breakfasted, Fort?” Chastity asked quickly.

“I heard Cyn Malloren was fighting over a wench,” he sneered. “How
do you like that, sister dear? But three nights since, your honorable
seducer was squabbling over a whore.”

Then he started counting nights. She could see it in his eyes.

“That was the night you spent on the road with him on your way to
Maidenhead…” His puzzled frown turned to an expression of horror. “Dear
Lord in heaven…” Chastity retreated strategically behind a sofa,
wondering what her chances were of reaching the door.

“I thought that teasing Chloe was familiar!” His voice swelled to a roar. “You filthy little trollop!”

“You were at Rood House too!” she screamed at him.

He charged at her, and the sofa suddenly seemed no barrier at all.
Chastity looked for a weapon and grabbed a large Chinese vase, the best
defense to hand.

Fort stopped.

He stopped because a glittering rapier was at his throat, wielded by Rothgar, who had appeared as if by magic.

“Ah,” said Fort. “Another Malloren. Is she whore to the whole family, then?”

“My dear Thornhill,” said Rothgar softly, “she is to all intents and
purposes one of the family. If you offend against her, I will be forced
to take it personally…”

Even Fort appeared to be sobered by the concentrated malice in the marquess’ voice.

“She doesn’t deny that your brother ruined her,” Fort said. “I’ll have satisfaction of him.”

“That is between you and him. But it is your father who has ruined
her. Whose side are you on?” The unwavering sword at his neck carried a
lethal promise.

Fort ignored it and looked steadily at Chastity. She sent him a silent appeal. He sighed. “Hers.”

Rothgar lowered the sword. Chastity only then realized that Brand and Elf were in the room too.

“Then we are all on the same side,” said Rothgar smoothly, as if
that violence had never been. “Let me tell you about your father…”

Time hung heavy at the Abbey as everyone waited for Rothgar’s plans
to bring results. No one was entirely sure what wheels Rothgar had set
in motion except the marquess himself, and the only clear sign he gave
was to casually order preparations for a grand masqued ball in five
days.

“Five days,” said Elf calmly. “And who is to attend?”

“Everyone I have invited,” he said enigmatically.

It became clear that Rothgar had invited all the local gentry and a good part of the aristocracy.

“Won’t they think it strange to be invited to a grand ball at such short notice?” Chastity asked.

“Oh, no,” said Elf. “He always does things this way. A whim takes him and he holds an event. They are accustomed.”

“Well, I suppose they are accustomed to a scrambling kind of affair
then. It took weeks of planning for my father to hold a ball this
spring.”

“Scrambling,” said Elf with Malloren hauteur. “Of course not.”

Chastity found herself swept up into a whirlwind of efficient
organization. Large numbers of extra staff were summoned from London.
Messages went to Rothgar’s other estates demanding provisions. Both
staff and provisions, of course, all came by the fastest means,
regardless of cost. A dozen crates of geese came by post chaise.

Fort stayed on at the Abbey. He appeared to accept the likelihood of
his father’s guilt, but he was not particularly mellowed toward the
Mallorens. He kept to himself as they awaited Cyn’s return. Cyn, who
would bring the document that could ruin the whole Ware family. Cyn,
who was his sister’s seducer.

Fort looked like a man who lusted for someone to kill.

“What a horrible brother,” said Elf as she directed the rearrangement of furniture. “He doesn’t seem to care for you at all.”

“Perhaps he cares too much,” said Chastity. “What would Rothgar do if he found you in bed with a man?”

Elf went wide-eyed at the thought, but said, “He wouldn’t turn against me.”

Chastity didn’t argue, but she thought Elf overoptimistic. She hoped her new friend’s illusions were never shattered.

In the evening of the next day, Bryght returned from Maidenhead with
the letter. Chastity and Elf were with Rothgar when Bryght walked into
the Tapestry Room and gave it to his brother. “The house was deserted,
and Walgrave is no longer in Maidenhead.” Somewhat grimly, he added,
“You didn’t tell me who the letter was from.”

“I didn’t tell you to read it, either,” remarked Rothgar with an
unmistakable touch of humor. Rothgar’s humor was generally cause for
concern.

Chastity saw an angry muscle twitch in Bryght’s jaw. He hadn’t
shaved that day, and looked more sullen and angry than usual. “Was I to
ride my arse raw to get the damn thing, and not stop to check it wasn’t
a laundry list?”

Rothgar scanned the perfumed paper and his brows rose. “One glance would tell you it wasn’t that.”

“One glance told me who had written it. I recognized the writing, and the perfume.”

“Ah,” said Rothgar, with a smile that was positively beatific, yet the most chilling thing Chastity had ever seen.

Bryght’s jaw was working in an alarming way and his hands were fists. “You sent me deliberately.”

Rothgar didn’t deny it. “You have never believed the woman to be less than perfect.”

“I’m not sure what I believe now. Would she have come to this if she’d married me?”

Chastity realized with horror that Bryght’s lost love was Nerissa Trelyn.

“She chose Trelyn of her own free will,” Rothgar pointed out.

Bryght turned on his heel and slammed out of the room.

“As you see,” said Rothgar to Chastity, “I have a score of my own to
settle with Nerissa Trelyn. But even so, I will not destroy her unless
she insists on it.”

Chastity shared a horrified look with Elf, but that lady just
shrugged as if such dramatics were an ordinary part of life. Lud, but
living with the Mallorens was like living in a dragon’s lair, with Fort
as an invading eagle.

When a second day passed without Cyn’s appearance, Chastity began to
worry about his safety. Three times she was on the point of begging
Rothgar to send out a search party, but Cyn would hate that if he were
safe. Besides, Rothgar’s confidence was so overwhelming she feared he’d
be mortally offended at the suggestion of a problem in his plans.

She buried her worries under the work of helping Elf organize the ball. Elf seemed to have all the details in hand but one.

“We need a theme,” she said. “A ball must have a theme.”

“Flowers?” said Chastity.

“Not in November,” said Elf with a grin. “Not even for a Malloren.
Medieval?” she mused. “No, for people would wish to be in costume, and
there is not time. Venetian? Terribly overdone… Ah,” she suddenly said.
“Chinese!”

“Chinese?” queried Chastity, following her hostess as she headed toward the subterranean depths of the house.

“Why did I not think of it before?” Elf burbled happily. “Come along. You’ll see.”

What Chastity saw was a pile of bales wrapped in burlap. When a
footman unwrapped them, they proved to be rolls of priceless,
hand-painted red Chinese silk.

She touched one reverently, then turned to Elf in horror. “You
can’t
!”

“I’m going to hang it all around the ballroom.”

“Elf, you can’t!” Chastity wailed. “It’s far too precious!”

“Oh,” said Elf, “not for a Malloren.”

Then Chastity saw the way Elf’s lips were twitching. She looked
again at the silk. It was undoubtedly very valuable. She gently
unrolled some. It was a cleverly constructed dummy bale. Inside she
found only a coarse glazed cotton printed with the same gilded pattern.
“You wretch,” she declared. “Where did all this come from?”

“Rothgar acquired it in one of his more mysterious enterprises. I
keep wondering what to do with the good silk, but it’s too exotic for a
dress…” She looked at Chastity. “For me, maybe.”

“I’m not going to the ball in a gown that appears to be made from the hangings,” said Chastity firmly.

Elf laughed. “Of course not. But for later, perhaps. Meanwhile,
we’ll have this unwrapped and hung.” She gave the orders and swept off.
“It would be effective to paint the woodwork in the ballroom in black
lacquer,” she mused.

“But somewhat permanent,” Chastity pointed out, wondering if that
would matter to a Malloren. “You could always have mock panels
constructed and placed around the room.” As soon as she’d said it,
Chastity knew she was being infected with the Malloren outlook on life.

“Of course,” said Elf delightedly, and gave more orders. The amazing
thing, thought Chastity, was that the enormous staff of servants never
blinked at any order, no matter how outrageous. No wonder Cyn was as he
was.

With a Malloren, all things were possible.

She had begun to think of Rothgar Abbey as a miniature Versailles.

She was directing the draping of the ‘silk’ when Cyn returned. He
walked into the ballroom and halted. “‘Struth. Is that really… ?”

Chastity whirled. “Cyn!” Without thinking, she hurled herself into
his arms under the discreet but fascinated attention of twenty servants.

She recollected herself immediately and pulled away. He almost let
her go, but then suddenly, desperately, stepped back with her out of
the room and into the corridor. For a moment they stood there, drinking
in the sight of each other, then their mouths met in desperate
communion.

Chastity knew then that life was scarcely possible for her without Cyn’s presence—his touch, his voice, his love…

The kiss eased away but they still clung together.

“God, but I missed you,” he groaned against her cheek.

“I missed you too. I was so worried…”

He moved away a little. “We mustn’t do this. Your reputation…”

“I don’t care…”

“I do.” He sucked in a deep breath and separated them completely. “Stop tempting me, wench.”

“Ha!” she protested. “So I’m cast as Eve, am I?” But she smiled with the joy of his return. “Come and see the ballroom.”

He allowed her to pull him back into the room and gazed at the walls. “I saw. Even Rothgar wouldn’t…”

“It is remarkably convincing, isn’t it?”

He went over and studied a panel, and blew out his breath in relief.
“But it’s remarkable from a distance, and in candlelight… The Malloren
reputation for doing the incredible is about to be bolstered.”

“Quite apart from whatever takes place at the ball.” Then the
purpose of the ball hit her like a shower of cold rain. “Did you get
the documents?”

“Yes,” he said, and rolled his eyes. “But only by luck. Mary gave
the clothes to her maid, who passed them on to her mother. When I
arrived at that lady’s house, she had just plunged them all into a vat
of hot, soapy water.”

As if unable to resist, he took her hand.

“Oh, Lord. Did the ink survive?” That tenuous contact was shattering her mind.

He grinned. “She’d taken the document out of the pocket, thinking to
return it to Mary, but put it on the table near a joint of meat. It
became somewhat bloodstained.”

“Appropriate in a way,” Chastity commented, twining her fingers with his.

“Very true. Unfortunately it then seemed a tasty treat to the lady’s pet cur.”

Chastity closed her eyes. “I don’t want to know.”

“Only slightly chewed.”

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, as much in delight at his presence as at his news. “You gave the letter to Rothgar?”

“I gave it to Verity, since it is hers. I think she is taking it to Rothgar now.” He raised her hand and kissed it.

She gazed at him longingly, but said, “Come on, then. I’m quite
desperate to know what is in it. And if it turns out to be some
carefully-thought-out last words of advice, I shall have the vapors!”

Cyn allowed himself to be dragged along. “I live to see the day!”

She flashed him a scowl that turned into laughter, and towed him
along. At the door to Rothgar’s study, however, he put up real
resistance and captured her against the wall. “You seem happy,” he said
almost wistfully.

Chastity realized with surprise that she was. That she had been for
days. Happy to be a woman again, in a normal house, with a family of
sorts. She’d wiped away the terrible months and was refusing to
contemplate the bleak future. “Do you mind?”

He shook his head. “Why should I mind, love? This is what I want for
you. What I insist on giving you. If the document turns out to be
useless, we’ll find some other way.”

“Oh, Cyn,” said Chastity. “I pray you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. You have the Mallorens on your side.”

Chastity shook her head at him, but said, “I want to thank you for
bringing me here, Cyn. And for recruiting Rothgar. I know it wasn’t
easy for you.”

He hooted with laughter. “Recruited! Was that what I did? How bloody marvelous!”

And it was Cyn who pulled a bemused Chastity into the study.

They found Rothgar, Verity, and Nathaniel—a very sober Verity and
Nathaniel. Rothgar passed the stained and slightly-chewed document over
to Cyn and Chastity.

“Lud,” said Chastity as they read.

It was a very incriminating document, for all that it was signed
only ‘Mr. Ware.’ The recipient, whoever that was, had clearly demanded
proof of who he was dealing with. In response, a number of details had
been given which pointed clearly, for those with any knowledge of the
man, to Lord Walgrave. In one sentence, the words offspring, Fortitude,
Chastity, Victor, and Verity had been combined.

Mr. Ware promised to use his influence with certain highly placed
people—read the Prince and Princess of Wales—to induce the royal family
to flee once the Jacobite army arrived within thirty miles of London.