Page 54 of Lord of Mistrust

The door sprang open, and a serving wench bobbed to them. “God give you good day, sirs. The young mistress says I’m to show Sir Robert Mallory in. If he brings anyone with him, she bids me say they must wait by the foot of the stairs. None may come up until the bells have rung eleven.”

Robert doffed his hat and stepped inside, his mind charging hither and thither. “Mistress Chloe commands you?”

“Aye. Everyone else is out at present—including all the servants but me. Mistress Chloe is indisposed, but says she can tolerate a visit from you alone, Sir Robert.”

His mouth twisted. She could “tolerate” him? “Do Master and Mistress Emmerson know I’m due to visit?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.” The wench dipped her head at Whiteley and indicated a high-backed chair near the foot of the stairs. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting there, sir, I’ll show the other gentleman up. None are to go above for the next half an hour—those were the young mistress’ orders.”

Whiteley winked. “A tryst, Sir Robert, by my life! I shall unsheathe my sword and make sure you’re not disturbed.”

Robert avoided Whiteley’s eyes. A tryst was the best he could hope for, a tirade the worst. The latter seemed the most likely.

He was shown upstairs, and into a cozy, darkened room that smelled of beeswax and rose petals. The shutters were closed against the chill, and embers glowed in the tiny hearth. The room was dominated by a carved oak bed with embroidered curtains and canopy. A female shape lay beneath the coverlet.

“My lady.” He swept Chloe a deep bow, failed to find a chair, so perched himself at the foot of her bed. “How do I find you after last night? Not taken a chill, I hope?”

She flung back the covers, and he realized she was fully dressed, but minus shoes. She sat on the edge of the bed, easily within kissing distance. His stomach tightened.

“I’m absolutely fine, Robert, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. We have unfinished business, you and I.”

“You cunning little fox—there’s naught wrong with you at all.” As he’d suspected.

“Ah, but there is.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “You’ve severely wounded my pride.”

“How so?”

“You once offered to marry me, but never repeated that offer. Ever since, I’ve been wondering what it is about my person, or my character, that so offends you.”

“Jesu!” Robert seized her hand. “It’s naught to do with you—the fault is all mine. I’ve never before met so charming, beautiful, great-hearted, or brave a lady as you.”

“Go on. I require you to do penance. Flattery is a fine beginning.”

“I would have offered for you again—Lord knows I want to, but my hands are tied. I have nothing to offer you, my love.”

“Ah, there it is again. The word ‘love’. You used it last night as well. I wonder if you have any idea how much store a woman sets by that word.”

He tightened his grip. Of course, he knew. He’d not used the word lightly.

Her hazel eyes locked with his. “Forget not that the main thing you have to offer is yourself.”

He pressed her knuckles against his cheek, then kissed them. He shouldn’t offer her hope or dare to dream. Sir Mortimer would veto any union between them. Especially now that Robert had failed in his duty to net Lord Brooke.

“Don’t do this, Chloe—don’t make it any harder than it is. You’ve only just begun in life. Don’t think yourself in love with the first man who crosses your path. I am unworthy.”

“Shh.” Chloe laid a finger on his lips. “I cannot change the strength of my feelings. I know you like me and I can’t understand what’s holding you back. Your reticence hurts me deeply.”

He ran his hands over his face. She was right. She deserved an explanation, so why shouldn’t he make a clean breast of it? He had nothing left to lose. If she thought the worst of him after his disclosure—well, he’d learn to live with it. He released her hand and turned to face her.

“I am, or was, in debt to your father, Sir Mortimer Fowler.”

Her eyes widened. “I thought you had a fine estate in Berkshire?”

“I do, but our assets had been depleted by my father, and after his death, I needed coin in order to save the honor of my sister, Meg. A contemptible rogue by the name of Townley lay with her. He would have left her to bear a bastard babe, had I not amassed a generous dowry for her.”

“That, I understand. My father abandoned my mother in the same situation, as you know. I still can’t forgive him for that.”

Robert stroked the silken skin on the underside of her wrist. “Sir Mortimer is an acquaintance of Sir Francis Walsingham. The pair of them agreed I should be freed of my debt to Sir Mortimer if I spied on Lord Brooke. I was to find proof that he has conspired against Queen Elizabeth.”