Page 13 of Rogue’s Holiday

She had meant to ask for two glasses of sherry but her encounter with the cad made her choice clear. “Sherry, if you please, a full bottle, delivered to my room.”

She would need more than one glass to forget the man’s arrogant kiss.

Robbie reclaimed his seat next to Jack in the coffee house. “You missed a tasty bit of fluff dashing through the lobby. A lady’s maid, I should think, and strikingly beautiful.”

Jack set down the newspaper he’d been reading and raised one auburn brow. “Oh?”

Robbie couldn’t resist a chuckle. “I confess I was not looking when I ran into her. However, the collision was not at all unpleasant.” He recalled the warm softness that had met his hard body, her disquieting examination of his person and the glaring blue eyes that had confronted him after he gave her a sample of his excellent kissing skills. “Not much of a sense of humor, though, and a sharp tongue.”

“You exchanged words?”

“We did. Nothing as polite as an introduction. Didn’t even swoon when I kissed her.”

“You dared kiss a strange woman?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said with a shrug. “Alas, I have no idea who the delightful creature is.”

Jack’s brows drew together. “Why is it you have all the fun? While you were enjoying yourself with the maid, I had to fend off Sir Bellingham’s inquiries about your new pair of grays.” Jack shifted his gaze to the very man sitting with Sir John Lade on the other side of the room. “He was most curious.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Only that they were a gift and you were delighted.”

“He could hardly doubt that,” said Robbie.

“By the bye, he tells me that he and Sir John are coming to Brighton for the Season along with Sir John’s wife, Letty.”

Robbie grinned. “Oh, ho. That should make for some interesting rides. She’s an amazing horsewoman.”

“And some interesting evenings,” said Jack. “You know how the Lades love to indulge.”

“Aye, they are true friends of our new king, who will also be coming to Brighton at some point, or so he told me when he gifted me the grays.”

“Do we leave tomorrow?” Jack was eager to reach Brighton and had kept Robbie entertained with stories he’d heard of Prinny’s evenings at the Royal Pavilion.

“We do. Immediately after breakfast. We shall depart from the White Horse Cellar in Piccadilly. I’ve sent my valet ahead to Brighton with our baggage. He has agreed to serve us both while we are there.”

“Most generous of him. Tiller ties a perfect cravat.”

“I tie my own cravats,” Robbie corrected him. He glanced at the newspaper Jack had set on the table. Splashed across one column was a story about the Cato Street conspirators.

“They are preparing for trial with a special commission,” said Jack. “Have you been following the story?”

“All of London is following the story,” said Robbie. He did not wish Jack to know of the reason for his keen interest in the matter.

Jack fixed him with an assessing gaze. “I have never known you to be overly interested in His Majesty’s justice being meted out.”

“You have to admit this case is different.”

Jack accepted more coffee from the waiter. “Well, oui, if only because of the ambitious nature of their plan. But according to one piece I read, the government was on to them early in the game. The king and his Cabinet were never really in danger.”

“Hard to say. It could have so easily gone wrong. As it was, one officer was killed in making the arrests.”

Jack picked up the newspaper and focused his attention on the story. “This article says they are still searching for some of the conspirators who have yet to be captured.”

The hairs on the back of Robbie’s neck stood on end and his coffee suddenly tasted bitter in his mouth. He’d believed all the conspirators had been taken into custody. Hoping Jack could not see beneath his feigned indifference, he said, “I’m sure the runners will find them. After all, ’twas one of their own they lost to that man Thistlewood and his followers.”

“Insufferable oaf!” Chastity muttered as she slammed the door to her chamber. “Arrogant rogue!” Her blood boiled with indignation.