Page 31 of Rogue’s Holiday

Excited to be out with her great-aunt and Mrs. Fitz on this late spring morning, Chastity stepped down from the carriage and let her gaze travel the length of North Street. There was only the slightest wind. “Why, there must be fifty shops!”

“The last count was sixty, I think,” said Aunt Agatha, “and even I have not been to all of them. We creatures of habit tend to frequent our favorites.”

“What shops would you like to see first?” asked Mrs. Fitz. “We’ve plenty of time before Agatha and I take you to our favorite spot for tea.”

Rose glanced at Chastity. “I know what you’re going to say.”

Chastity had just finished the design for Aunt Agatha’s slippers that morning. “A fabric shop that sells silk, the kind that makes elegant slippers, would be my choice.”

“I always like to see silk,” said Rose. “And I need a new pair of gloves.”

Mrs. Fitz smiled. “We can easily attend to both of those requests. Thomas Nightingale is an excellent glover and Mrs. Bull, the silk mercer, has lovely fabric. But if you want a gown, I recommend Mrs. Sanders.”

“My great-niece designs shoes, Maria,” Aunt Agatha informed her friend.

“Shoes?” Mrs. Fitz’s brows rose in question.

“She does,” Aunt Agatha said, answering for her, “lovely ones. See those she is wearing today?” Aunt Agatha looked down at Chastity’s red half boots peeking out beneath her morning gown of cream muslin edged in crimson. They matched her dark red spencer jacket.

“Those are remarkable,” said Mrs. Fitz. “I had not noticed before.”

“Mine, too, were designed by Chastity,” said Rose, lifting her skirt to show her blue half boots.

“A most unusual pastime for a lady,” remarked Mrs. Fitz. Then she smiled. “I approve.”

“Do you wish to take the silk fabric to the shoemaker’s, Chastity?” asked her great-aunt. “Thomas Lulham makes fine boots and shoes and his shop is just here on North Street.”

“Yes, please,” replied Chastity.

In no time at all, they had visited the silk mercer and Chastity had the fabric she needed for Aunt Agatha’s slippers. The respect with which Mrs. Fitz had been welcomed by the shopkeeper spoke much of her worth in the eyes of Brighton’s merchants. The king might have forgotten his Catholic wife but Brighton had not.

Their next stop was the shoemaker, where Chastity persuaded Rose to distract Aunt Agatha and Mrs. Fitz long enough for Chastity to pull out her drawing and tell the shoemaker what she desired.

“Of course, I can make the slippers for you, Miss. Check back with me in a week and you will have them.”

Delighted with the shoemaker’s enthusiastic response, Chastity left Rose and the two older women to pay for their orders while she drifted to the bay window to watch the comings and goings on the street. Many people were taking advantage of the good weather. As the summer grew closer, more Londoners arrived each day, making the streets more crowded.

She was just about to turn away when, across the street, the door of the Blacksmiths’ Arms tavern opened and two gentlemen stepped out. She recognized Sir Robert and his uncle at once. They spoke for a brief while, as if trying to decide what to do next and then turned down the street. Before they had gone but a few steps, a woman came scurrying out of the tavern, her dark hair flying behind her, and threw her arms around Sir Robert’s neck and kissed him.

Though he was startled at first, he embraced her fondly before letting her go.

Chastity inhaled sharply, covering her mouth with her fingers.

Rogue that he was, he just laughed as the girl ran back inside. Chastity supposed he had no end of women pursuing him. He was, after all, a handsome figure of a man. That he should accept the kiss of the tavern wench in the middle of North Street in the full light of day, however, surprised even Chastity. She turned away, condemning her thoughts of Sir Robert Powell to the outer reaches of her mind. His errant ways did not concern her and it was certain he cared nothing for her opinion.

Robbie had already turned his attention from the girl to their next stop, when Jack asked, “Whatever did you do to earn that kiss?”

“What? Oh, ’twas nothing. I merely left her more coin than she expected. I was trying to make up for that bothersome lout in the corner who was giving her a rough time.”

Jack stuffed his hands in his coat pockets against the wind. “You always seem to notice more than I do, mon ami.”

His work for the Crown had rendered the smallest detail of great importance, sometimes the difference between life and death. “She could do little to please him, though she certainly tried. I was sorry for her sake.”

“The kindness you did her might have gained you a hearty thanks, not that kiss. That kiss, Nephew, was an invitation to return.”

“Don’t be silly,” Robbie said, striding ahead. “We must hurry if we’re to play a round of brag before we meet Sir John.” He did not mention to Jack that they were being followed. He’d noticed the solitary figure in the brown greatcoat leaning against the tavern counter. Robbie could discern few distinguishing features since the man had pulled his hat down on his head. It was a meager disguise but Robbie’s instincts had been roused.

When they left the tavern, so did the man, who was now dogging their steps.