Page 75 of Rogue’s Holiday

Chapter 15

The next afternoon, after what seemed like a long journey, Lady Claremont’s carriage came to a stop in front of Aunt Agatha’s house. Now that they had arrived, Chastity was suddenly nervous. The bruises on her face had darkened, though the countess’ maid had given her something to hide the worst of it.

She looked out the window to see her great-aunt and Rose standing in front of the gate, each wearing an anxious expression. Did they wonder what indecencies she had suffered? Did they worry the ruse of her having visited with Lady Claremont would not be convincing? That she would, indeed, be ruined?

Chastity accepted the footman’s hand and stepped down from the carriage and into the arms of her great-aunt.

“Oh, thank God you are safe,” cried Aunt Agatha, giving her a tight hug. “We were so worried but Sir Robert assured us he would find you and I see he did.” Her great-aunt held her away, examining her like she might a broken doll. “Are you well?”

“She’s fine, Agatha,” said Lady Claremont, having descended from the carriage. “I trust you received my message?”

“Yes, thank you, Muriel.”

“Good, but we could both do with some tea.”

“Oh, yes, you are quite right. Cook has been baking all morning and we are prepared for tea in the parlor. It’s so good to have you both here. Of course, I have told my friends that Chastity was visiting with you.”

The two older women walked up the path to the front door, chatting like the old friends they were.

Chastity and Rose followed, Rose taking her arm. “You don’t have to speak of it if you don’t want to, Chas.”

“I don’t mind,” said Chastity, “now that it’s over.”

“Was it very dreadful?”

Chastity remembered the man Augie pawing her and his brutal fist, the dank room in the East End of London, her fear of the man who led her captors and her dread of his intentions. “Parts of it, yes.”

“We prayed for you every day.”

“I expect that may be the reason I ended up where I did.” At Rose’s inquiring gaze, she said, “I’ll tell you about it later.”

Once they were seated in the parlor with their tea, Crispin came to sit at Chastity’s feet. She set aside her teacup and lifted him into her lap. His warm body was comforting, his purr like a welcome home.

“He missed you,” said Rose.

Aunt Agatha inquired, “What of Sir Robert and M’sieur Donet?”

Lady Claremont held her cup and saucer before her. “Sir Robert was the one who delivered Chastity to me, concerned for appearances once she was safe. I believe he and his uncle are pursuing the scoundrel who kidnapped Chastity. The dreadful man wasn’t to surface for several days so Sir Robert had to remain in London.”

“Two quid on the Spanish cock!” a man shouted from the rear of the tavern.

“Three on the black-breasted red!” came another cry. “He’ll cut yer Spaniard to ribbons!”

Boisterous male voices rose to a crescendo as the cockfight, attended by sailors, merchants, and even some London fops, got underway.

Robbie grimaced. There was one form of gambling in which he refused to indulge—cockfighting. He could not enjoy seeing the roosters rip each other apart, the match ending only when one was badly hurt or dead. But since Ings had chosen to meet his men here on a Sunday, and that was the day The Prospect sponsored such entertainment, Robbie was unsurprised to hear the sounds of men eagerly anticipating the blood sport.

Not wishing to announce themselves before it was time, Robbie and Jack had disguised their appearances. Tiller had borrowed clothing from the crew of the Tradewind, Robbie’s schooner that, by happenstance, was moored in the Pool of London waiting to be unloaded. To these clothes, they added wigs and sloppy hats and a few days’ extra stubble to mask their normally clean jaws.

He had asked Tiller to inquire if any of the crew, who would otherwise be enjoying their shore leave, could be persuaded to join them at the tavern. Their fists might come in handy should the capture of Ings and his men turn into a brawl.

Over dinner the night before, Tiller had come to tell him all was in order.

Robbie asked, “How many volunteered?” He didn’t expect even the four he’d requested. When in port, his crew always had family to visit and a list of entertainments to pursue.

“They were right happy to oblige, Cap’n. So many raised their hands, I had me pick of the crew. I chose the brawniest, like ye said.”

He shot his valet an amused look. “Their response leaves me to wonder if it’s for love of their captain whose face they’ve not seen for some time, or if it’s because they love a good fight.”