Page 21 of Rogue’s Holiday

His eyes fixed on the reins in his gloved hands, he said, “Once or twice.”

“My nephew, Miss Reynolds,” put in the vicomte, “is a talented navigator, a man of coveted skill on the sea.”

Sir Robert blushed, that is, if a rogue can blush. “The ships belong to Powell and Sons Shipping, the family business.”

“How many brothers have you?” she asked.

“Two older and a twin, five minutes younger.”

“And Robbie never lets Nash forget it,” said the vicomte, laughing.

“How about you, Miss Reynolds,” the uncle asked her. “Tell us of your family.”

“I have two sisters, one older and one younger. My father is a country squire and an eccentric designer of men’s shoes and boots.”

“Chastity designs ladies’ shoes as her hobby,” said Rose. She extended her half boot. “A sample of her talent.”

“An unusual pursuit for a lady,” said Sir Robert, appearing to admire the blue half boot though it occurred to Chastity he could well be admiring Rose’s ankle instead.

“I think it’s a splendid talent!” exclaimed the vicomte. “And you, Miss Crockett? Do you have any unusual talents?”

“No, not really,” Rose said, apologetically.

“That’s not true,” Chastity protested. “Rose has a voice like an angel and can play the pianoforte rather well.”

“You will have to play for us,” replied the vicomte. “My mother plays the cello and my father the violin, so we are a musical family. Robbie’s, too.”

“Do either of you have musical talent?” asked Chastity, trying to imagine The Rogue with a musical instrument.

He and his uncle shared a look. “Not that I know of,” said the vicomte. Chastity had the feeling each of them was thinking of some other skill they had chosen not to reveal.

From the Pavilion, they turned the horses south, heading toward the shore. When they reached the Marine Parade, they rode along the seafront. A brisk breeze from the sea made Chastity glad she had worn her warm merino riding habit, the deep red color the same as the red flowers on her brown half boots.

During the ride along the seashore, she managed to exchange pleasantries with The Rogue while Rose chatted merrily with the vicomte who Sir Robert had called “Jack”. An odd name for a French vicomte.

As they turned toward the Steyne, Chastity fell silent, thinking of Sir Robert and her new image of him. He carried himself with confidence, his manner with the horses was assured, and now she learned he was a navigator of ships, the industry that had made Great Britain the sovereign of the seas.

She was faintly embarrassed that she had lumped him in with the notorious bucks of London, about whom she had been warned. It was all due to how they’d met, of course. Thinking about how rude he had been and the kiss he had claimed, she recalled what a disorderly lot sailors were. He could well be a rogue of the first order notwithstanding his family business. Hadn’t Prinny been just such a one and he ruled a kingdom? Thus, she would remain on her guard. After all, Crispin had taken a dim view of the man and she trusted the cat’s instincts.

Robbie and Jack bid the ladies good day and began their short ride back to the Pavilion, the two extra horses in tow. As he rode, Robbie thought about The Keeper of the Demon Cat who had made clear her dislike of him. Perhaps he should not have taken the liberty he had, but her sweet lips had called to him and the reward had been almost worth her present ire.

The two young women from Northampton were certainly attractive, each in her own way, and very different from the London women he had known. Miss Reynolds intrigued him, as Lady Claremont no doubt knew she would. His own expectations for a country miss were not consistent with the traits Miss Reynolds possessed. He would have expected a young woman from the country of marriageable age to be overawed, to simper and flirt, especially if the man were well moneyed. Miss Reynolds did neither. She obviously admired Jack, but then most women did, and titles often impressed women from untitled families. But Miss Reynolds gave no hint of being superficial or impressed by his own family’s shipping enterprise.

A sudden thought sprang into his head. “Snow White and Rose Red,” he murmured aloud.

“What’s that?” asked Jack.

“Miss Reynolds and Miss Crockett. It’s as if they emerged from a fairy tale I was reading to one of my young nephews just before we left London.”

“Do tell, old chap.”

Robbie reached into his memory for details. The boy had curled up on his lap fascinated with the story. “As I recall, it’s a tale about two sisters, one fair and one dark, whose kindness gets them entangled with an ungrateful dwarf. In fact,” he said, remembering, “that’s the name of the tale, The Ungrateful Dwarf.”

“Do not leave me in a state of suspense. What happened?”

“Well, the sisters give shelter to a bear during the winter and are surprised to find him gone in the spring.”

“They didn’t know much about bears,” said Jack. “What happened then?”

“Afterwards, the sisters encountered this nasty dwarf who they helped out of several scrapes. One day, they discover the dwarf with a great treasure of gold and he turned on them in a rage. Just then, the bear reappeared to save the sisters. As it turned out, the bear was actually a prince who had been cursed by the dwarf who had stolen the prince’s treasure. Freed from the curse, the prince married Snow White and Rose Red married his brother.”

“I see,” said Jack, “Now, we have only to figure out which of us is to be the bear and who, precisely, is the evil dwarf.”

“’Tis only a children’s story,” said Robbie, wondering why he had thought of it. “I’m sure it was the ladies’ strikingly different appearance that brought the story to mind, that and Miss Crockett’s given name.”

“By the bye,” said Jack. “I do not believe the fair one is the shrew you made her out to be. For me, she had only smiles.”

“Don’t be too sure of yourself. You have yet to meet her demon cat.”

Jack laughed. “Oh, yes, the cat you warned me about.”

It was as Robbie turned into the path leading to the Pavilion’s stables that he had the queerest feeling he was being watched. A silly notion when he considered the other riders passing him and Jack. But a spy’s instincts had not failed him in his many missions for the Crown. So, while he did not mention his discomfort to Jack, neither did he dismiss it.