Present Day
Chastity felt sick. What on earth had she been thinking? And the worst thing was, Christian Stanhope was clearly aware she had been in his bed. After his thunderous entrance, the Earl had wasted no time heading up to his bedchamber, entering the room just as the Reverend managed to pull a sobbing Percy in through the window.
His face was white with fury. Which didn’t seem to bother his daughter overly as she skipped over to give him a hug. Bending down, he asked in a low voice if she’d been hurt. Chastity opened her mouth to declare indignantly that she wasn’t in the habit of harming children, but when he looked up again, his eyes were glacial. Hastily, she shut her mouth and swallowed nervously.
Holding on to his daughter’s hand, he glanced over at the now rumpled bed and raised his eyebrows.
‘Mercedes, perhaps you could show ourgueststo the sitting room while I see to the removal of the tree branch currently blocking our front door.’ He bent down and ruffled the little girl’s head. And once you’ve done that–bed. His tone brooked no argument, and after giving him a swift peck on the cheek, the child nodded happily and headed towards the bedchamber door.
‘I assume the dog keeping the entire street awake belongs to one of you?’ he went on as the three of them hastily made to follow like guilty schoolchildren. ‘Then perhaps you will be so good as to fetch the hound in.’ He paused, before adding, ‘I trust you won’t use the opportunity to leave before we’ve had a chance to become … acquainted?’ The Reverend simply nodded, for once completely lost for words.
After waiting as they hurriedly retrieved dog and clothes, Mercy led them to a small room which looked as though it had definitely seen better days. The furnishings might once have been luxurious, but they were now worn and tired. The grate held no fire, and the chamber had a distinctly tomb-like feel. Shivering, Chastity took a seat, slipping on her cloak for some added warmth.
Likewise, her father and Percy put their respective cassocks back on before sitting down. Bewildered, Freddy lay down by the defunct fireplace and stared at his master.
For the first half hour, they sat in silence, the only sound being voices outside the window. Clearly, the Earl had roused the staff to help him move the offending tree limb.
Unsurprisingly, they were offered no refreshment, and as the clock ticked by, Chastity began to get more and more agitated. At length, she could stand it no longer. ‘Grace and Nicholas are bound to have returned by now,’ she fretted. ‘If they discover we are not in our beds…’ She gnawed at her fingernails, unable to finish the sentence.
‘Well, unless they come to tuck us in, they’re unlikely to find out until morning,’ Reverend Shackleford reasoned, ‘and by then, we should be returned home.’
‘But what if the Earl really is a … murderer?’ Percy murmured the last word in an anxious whisper.
‘What if he is?’ the Reverend retorted. ‘I doubt he’d look to see us juggling halos on his own property when half the servants are abroad.’
‘And his daughter’s upstairs,’ added Chastity. Though she sounded less certain than her father.
‘That was a bit of a deuced surprise, I must say,’ Reverend Shackleford mused. ‘From what Nicholas said, I’d imagined Stanhope to be nothing more than an ivory turner who’d suddenly struck lucky. But it seems there’s more to him than that.’ He shook his head and turned towards Chastity. ‘And while we’re on the subject of our host. What the devil did you think you were doing climbing into his deuced bedchamber?’
‘I… I…’ Chastity grimaced as she wracked her brain for a believable lie.
‘And don’t think to fob me off with some damn plumper,’ her father, added as the silence lengthened. Chastity sagged.
‘I wanted to speak with him alone,’ she confessed. ‘Before his interview with Nicholas tomorrow.’
‘And you thought his bedchamber was a good place to hold a private tête-à-tête. Because…’
Chastity’s face flamed, but she didn’t answer.
‘Well, if you were hoping to seduce the fellow, you’re certainly not dressed for it, the Reverend responded matter-of-factly.’
‘Sir, you’re a man of the cloth,’ protested Percy, aghast, ‘surely you cannot approve of such wanton behaviour.’
‘Whether I approve or not has never made a blind bit of difference to any of ‘em before now, Percy. But I have to say, of all the schemes my offspring have come up with over the years, I think this one might be the most totty-headed.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘And to think Percy and I nearly ended up in matching plots trying to save you from yourself.’
‘I was desperate,’ defended Chastity. ‘The alternative is Viscount Trebworthy.’
‘Well, I think even I might have chosen me in such circumstances…’ All three sets of eyes swung to the door at the sound of the dry comment, and Chastity coloured up.
‘But what I’d like to know,’ Christian Stanhope went on briskly, striding into the room, ‘is why you thought to choosemeas an alternative to the good Viscount. Clearly I am not swimming in lard.’ He gestured to the worn furnishings. ‘And I’m almost certain the Duke of Blackmore has wasted no time blackening my character.’ He shook his head. ‘Truly madam, as flattered as I am that you’ve taken such extreme measures to capture my attention, I can assure you, I am not a good catch.’ He seated himself in the only available chair and crossed his legs, clearly waiting for an explanation.
‘Well, that might be true if…’
‘And you are?’ the Earl quizzed.
‘Her father, my lord.’ He nodded towards Percy who was busy trying to make himself invisible. ‘And this is my curate, Percy Noon.’
The Earl quirked a dubious brow. ‘It’s not often I find myself nonplussed, but I must confess I’m entirely mystified as to why a man of the cloth might decide to aid and abet his daughter in breaking into a man’s bedroom … via atree.’ He gave an incredulous shake of his head. ‘I assume Sinclair does not know what you’re about?’
