Augustus Shackleford sighed. ‘No, he does not. But the fact of the matter is, my daughter faces ruin because she was overheard foolishly asking you to dance with her during my son-in-law’s New Year’s Eve ball.’
The Earl of Cottesmore stared at him disbelievingly for a second. Whatever he’d been expecting the Reverend to say, it clearly wasn’t this. He turned towards Chastity who like Percy was busy trying very hard to become part of the furniture.
‘I have only been back in London for a short time but have already heard of the eccentricities of the Shackleford family. It seems that you are a chip off the same block, Miss Shackleford. Did you not think to simply come and speak with me this eve?’
Chastity had been staring down into her lap, wishing for a hole to simply swallow her up. At the Earl’s address, she gritted her teeth and looked up. It was the first time she’d really looked at him since he’d entered the room. For a brief second, Christian Stanhope’s sheer masculine beauty stopped her breath. She realised he was clad only in a shirt and breeches. His sleeves were still rolled up from shifting the infamous tree branch revealing tanned forearms that for some reason seemed ridiculously intimate. She met his eyes. They were alert, but no longer furious. The silence lengthened, and she realised he was waiting for her side of the story.
Twisting her hands in the fold of her cloak, Chastity took a deep breath. ‘I tried, but your butler informed me you were not at home to visitors.’ She paused and bit her lip. ‘I saw you go out, my lord, and I didn’t know what to do. I… I … was going to return home … but you have an audience with Nicholas tomorrow … and...’ She shook her head, fighting tears. Christian Stanhope merely waited, watching her, much as she imagined a cat would a mouse.
‘I appreciate that it is concerning another matter,’ Chastity managed to continue, ‘but it is my understanding that my brother-in-law intends to bring up the … contretemps I find myself in.’ She paused again, trying to find the right words, though she suspected that there weren’t any words that would make this night’s debacle sound any better.
‘I simply wished to appraise you of the situation before your meeting tomorrow,’ she said at length. ‘To ask that you consider … that you consider … err…’
‘Marrying you, thus saving you from the even worse alternative, which appears to be Edmund Fitzroy,’ the Earl provided drily. Chastity’s face flamed anew.
‘Well, I have no doubt that the Viscount is the Duke’s preferred option. Indeed, I am surprised he’s prepared to consider my suit at all,’ the Earl went on, ‘given that he believes me the foulest of murderers.’ He gave a grim chuckle, ‘And you Miss Shackleford must be desperate indeed to put your life in the hands of someone you’ve been told is a cold-blooded killer. I’m persuaded Lord Trebworthy cannot bethatbad.’
‘Are you not then?’ Chastity’s question seemed to take him aback, and he stared at her impassively for several uneasy moments.
‘No, Madam, I am not,’ he answered eventually, his voice weary and surprisingly sad.
‘Then let us help you prove it,’ Chastity blurted.
‘Steady on,’ Reverend Shackleford protested, ‘What’s all this we. I really don’t think Nicholas will wish us to be involved in such smoky business.’
‘I appreciate the offer, Miss Shackleford, but it appears you have your own problems at the moment.’ Unbelievably, the Earl gave a wry grin. ‘The truth is, as it stands, we’re both in the suds.’
‘I have to say, my lord, that your assessment of the situation does unfortunately seem to be accurate.’ Percy’s sudden, unexpected contribution drew all eyes to him. He gave a self-conscious cough before continuing, ‘And if that is the case, I believe Miss Chastity’s suggestion to have merit.’
Reverend Shackleford stared at his curate as though he’d grown two heads, but before he could say anything, Percy ploughed on. ‘Sir, your daughter’s best option is to marry the man with whom she… she… behaved… err…indelicately. You know that, as do I. And most certainly, the Duke will be cognisant of that fact.’ He turned towards the Earl who was staring at him coolly. ‘Lord Cottesmore, if you are prepared to offer for Miss Chastity, it is to her benefit to assist you in clearing your name.’ He gave a slight pause before adding, ‘We will help, even if the Duke of Blackmore will not.’
There was an uncomfortable silence during which the Reverend went an interesting shade of puce. At length, it was the Earl who spoke first. ‘Forgive me, Mr. Noon, but I fail to see how a mere chit of a girl and two men of the cloth will be able to help me in such an endeavour. Your offer is undoubtedly well meant, but I feel I must decline. Despite your breaking and enteringexpertise, I have no wish to see any harm come to any of you. I have enough on my conscience already.’
Despite wanting to gag his curate mere seconds ago, Reverend Shackleford felt unaccountably miffed at the Earl’s dismissal of their aid. He drew himself up indignantly. ‘I’ll have you know, my lord, that Percy and I have solved stranger cases than yours.’
‘What about your daughter?’ Chastity interposed quietly. ‘What kind of life will she have if knowledge of your supposed crime becomes food for the gossips?’
‘And what if we are unable to solve this particular mystery–which, forgive me, but you really know nothing of?’ Christian Stanhope bit out. ‘Are you still prepared to be wed to a pariah?’
‘I believe you when you say you are innocent, my lord,’ Chastity declared hotly, strangely no longer afraid of his anger. ‘Let us help you prove it.’ She paused before adding, ‘And yes, being wed to a mere pariah is infinitely preferrable to Viscount Trebworthy.’
Chapter Nine
Chastity woke to the sound of the maid drawing the curtains. For once the sun was shining in through the windows, and she revelled in the unaccustomed warmth focused directly onto her bed. She felt as though yesterday had taken place weeks ago. So much had happened since she’d watched Prudence and Anthony throwing snowballs at each other in the park.
Sipping her hot chocolate, she watched the maid build up the fire in the grate. Everything was so different here compared to the vicarage. Back in Blackmore, there was no one to wait on her, no one to help her dress, arrange her hair. It was like two different worlds. Her older sisters all appeared to enjoy the trappings of wealth, but she noticed that when they returned to Devonshire, they always came back to the vicarage. Tempy had said it was in case she ever forgot who she was.
Thanking the maid, Chastity leaned back against the pillows. Her sisters had all been fortunate enough to marry well, some of them far above their station, and while their courtships had, for the most part, been somewhat… unconventional, the one common factor was love. They were all in love with their husbands, and their husbands were in love with them.
She thought back to her final conversation with Christian Stanhope, before she, her father and Percy had finally taken their leave.
‘I hope you are certain about this, Miss Shackleford,’ he’d murmured, watching her with enigmatic blue eyes. ‘We are talking about the rest of your life. I am not a demonstrative man, so do not expect hearts and flowers. This is a business arrangement and will never be anything more.’ He paused before adding levelly, ‘I have a child and have no expectations of another. That said, if being a mother is important to you…’ He left the sentence unfinished, and her face coloured up at the implication. Clearly, he was leaving the decision as to whether there would be any intimacy between them up to her.
Sighing, Chastity leaned back and closed her eyes. It was better this way. She’d been a foolish child with her notions of romance. Her sisters had been fortunate, but marrying for love wasn’t the way of the world, and it would be too much to expect that all of them would be so lucky. At least she wouldn’t have to cover her nose with a kerchief every time she got close enough to have a conversation with the Earl. Resolutely, she buried the thought that simply looking at Christian Stanhope made her heart race and her stomach do somersaults.
Climbing out of bed, she washed in the now lukewarm water left by the maid, before dressing hurriedly. Fortunately, on returning home in the early hours, they had not encountered either Nicholas or Grace, so she was not concerned that breakfast might be a constrained affair. Even so, she was determined to reinforce her preference for the Earl of Cottesmore as a suitor–her brother-in-law would almost definitely express his doubts that Stanhope would even be prepared to offer for her. The knowledge that the Earl had already agreed to do so, she’d naturally keep to herself.
She hated to lie to the Duke, but she was persuaded that admitting to her reprehensible actions over the past twelve hours would do nothing to further her cause. Her father was of the same opinion, with the additional emphasis that, in his opinion, omission was not the same as pitching the gammon.
