Page 83 of Rogue’s Holiday

Two days later, Chastity had just had her final fitting for the gown she was to wear to Pen’s wedding the next day—a lavender confection with flounces she quite liked—when she decided to go in search of her father. Her mother had kept her so busy upon her return she’d scarce had any time to talk to him.

She found him in his workshop where he was bent over a new design. As she entered, he set it aside with a raft of other drawings. She liked the smell of leather and oil and the tools he used to make his creations. They were manly scents she associated with her father.

“Hello, Papa. Is that a new design?”

“A different boot for a man, yes. A half boot with laces.”

“Fascinating,” she said, tilting her head to the side to glimpse the drawing.

“You came to tell me something…”

She looked down, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering how to begin. “Yes…oh, Papa,” she said, blurting it out, “I have fallen in love with a rogue!”

He seemed unconcerned, which surprised her. “A rogue? Are you sure?”

“I saw him flirt outrageously with a married woman who clearly had eyes for him, accept the kisses of a tavern wench on a very public street, and I know for a fact he has frequented a London bordello. Are those not the actions of a rogue?”

Her father’s blue eyes looked deeply into hers. “They are the actions of a man, Chastity. A social flirtation at a dinner party? A grateful servant’s kiss? A man’s dalliance that must be paid for? Tsk, tsk, my pet. You are not a little girl any longer. You are a woman grown, old enough and wise enough to understand a grown man. I have always known you to have good sense.

“When this man of yours was a man with no future, of course, all he sought was amusement. But now—now he may seek something real, something that will last. Now he may seek love and contentment. Men do change for the right woman.”

Chastity wanted to believe his words. She had planned not to marry or have children, thinking to leave that to her more beautiful sisters. But now she craved what she had once believed mattered little…a man to love her, a man to share her life. But not just any man. She wanted Sir Robert Powell.

“Perhaps if I’d had dark hair and eyes like my mother and my sisters. Their beauty is so dramatic,” she said letting her thoughts wander. “I’m the only one in the family who is pale, the cuckoo in the nest.”

“Chastity, come here my pet.” She stepped closer to him and he took her hands between his. “Do you think my hair was always silver?”

“As long as I can remember, Papa.”

“Well, before that, it was like yours. And my eyes, if you haven’t noticed, are the same blue as yours.”

“I did notice that,” she said, blinking away tears.

“If you wonder why I indulge my middle daughter, it’s not because I am weak, it is because you and I are much alike, not just in appearance but in what makes us happy.”

“We are?” That one thought cheered her immensely.

“We are. Now, tell me, who is this man? And why do you love him?”

“His name is Sir Robert Powell. He was a guest of the king in Brighton. His family owns ships yet the men are also government spies.” She wouldn’t tell him about her kidnapping or her time in a London bordello or that Sir Robert was the cause of all that. “I…I don’t know exactly why I love him, Papa. He is glib of speech and bold in his manner…and so very handsome and brave.”

“I see.”

“Do you? I was hoping you would understand.”

“More than you know, my pet.” He let go of her hands. “In fact, this same man arrived a short while ago and is waiting for you in the parlor.”

“He is here? Truly?” At her father’s smile and nod, she said, “Then I must hurry.”

“Yes, do,” he said, chuckling as she turned to go.

She stepped into the parlor to see him staring into the flames in the fireplace, one hand on the mantel and his other on his hip. He turned. “Chastity.”

“Sir Robert, I did not expect you.”

His gaze roved over her in bold assessment, his hazel eyes devouring her. “Didn’t you? Did you think I would let you steal away to Northampton without even a goodbye?”

“Is that why you have come—to wish me goodbye?”