Page 3 of Rogue’s Holiday

Chapter 2

Dudley Hall, Northampton, March 1820

“Send Chastity to Brighton?”

At the sound of her older sister’s voice spouting her name in shrill disbelief, Chastity Reynolds halted in the corridor. I’m being sent to Brighton? Surprise and delight raced through her mind.

“The very thought conjures images of disaster,” said her eldest sister. Horror shuddered through her sister’s voice, bruising Chastity’s ego.

The parlor door stood ajar…she crept closer. Her mother paced in front of the crackling fire, while her sister, Penelope, sat perched on the edge of the blue velvet settee, teacup in hand. Her younger sister, Lucy, was nowhere to be seen. “Is there no better option than to send her there? That is where Prinny and his Carlton Set indulge in their wild parties and outrageous entertainments.”

In the autumn, Pen would marry a staid, respectable country squire. To Chastity’s mind, she was already acting the part. No one believed Prinny, as the king was known to his intimates, was a paragon of virtue but he had always been a great deal of fun.

Chastity’s mother stopped pacing and looked askance at Pen. “The prince is now the king, Penelope, and must be respected as such.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Still, you are right as to the past goings-on at the Royal Pavilion,” conceded their mother in a milder tone. “But that doesn’t diminish my desire to see Chastity spend the Brighton Season with Aunt Agatha. Your great-aunt might be ancient, but she is a lady of unquestioned character, respected by all.” Pausing by the settee, she rested her hand on Pen’s shoulder. “Aunt Agatha could do much to shape a young woman like Chastity into a proper lady and see her wed to a gentleman of good fortune. And, while she is away, your youngest sister will be free of Chastity’s influence.”

“Yes, there is that. But do you truly think this course is wise? Many of the fashionable set flock to Brighton and Chastity is…well, not at all prudent.”

Their mother’s laugh was vibrant with amusement. “While that is true, I suspect Aunt Agatha can handle her and will derive immense enjoyment from your sister’s company.”

Chastity’s spirits soared. Of course, Aunt Agatha would enjoy her company! How could she not? Her husband, the earl, had been dead more than a year. She had no children and she and Chastity had always been of a similar mind.

From the parlor there came an audible snort. “Aunt Agatha might well consider my sister too great an assignment. Chastity is a hoyden, Mother, and, to my mind, Father indulges her overmuch. He allows her to ride that mare of hers at breakneck speed all over the countryside, leaving her groom behind, I might add.”

Chastity smiled remembering her last ride.

“I think it’s her name that’s the problem,” Pen muttered.

“You may have the right of it. ‘Chastity’ would not have been my choice,” said their mother. “But we cannot forget the estate and funds she will soon inherit if she continues to bear that given name.”

“‘The second daughter in the seventh generation,’” Pen recited. “Yes, I remember. Still, our Puritan ancestors could not have anticipated—”

Chastity waltzed into the parlor. “The second daughter in the seventh generation. How could I ever forget?”

Pen looked up, startled. “’Tis a great pity our Puritan ancestors could not foresee what a burden the name would be for someone like you,” she said, her voice sharp.

“Someone like me?”

Their mother subsided into a chair. “Enough, both of you.

Pen gave their mother a knowing look. “Recall that Chastity’s first season, which she owed to Aunt Agatha’s connections, was an unmitigated disaster.”

“Do you really think so?” Chastity asked. “I rather enjoyed it.” In truth, Chastity had not much enjoyed it, feeling as she did that she was a lesser debutante compared to the others. And the idle prattling at the many events bored her to death.

“You reject suitors like you’re casting off old clothes,” said Pen. “The only man you’re genuinely fond of is your dancing master.”

“Hmmm…” Chastity adopted what she hoped was a dreamy expression. “Had I known Mother would engage such a delightful Frenchman if I stepped on Lord Percival’s toes, I would have trodden on them much sooner.”

Her pleasure in provoking Pen faltered when she saw her mother’s pained expression. “That Frenchman is precisely the reason I want you out of Northampton, at least for a time.”

“Oh, Mother,” Chastity implored, “must I go to Aunt Agatha’s? She means well, but she’s an elderly widow and she’s never had children so she’s not at all used to entertaining young people. Please don’t send me to Brighton.” It wouldn’t do for her to appear eager to go. She leaned forward. “Would you not welcome the prospect of seeing me wed here?”

“Not to someone whose only attributes are his good looks, charm and prowess on the dance floor.”

“Worry not, Mother,” Pen said, her voice tart. “That eventuality would only be possible if M’sieur Béranger intended marriage, which I think we all know he does not.”