Christian pulled off his shirt and called for a bath, his thoughts turning to this evening. In arriving at White’s with the new Earl of Cottesmore, Nicholas was clearly stating his position to those who thought to spread rumours about the Earl’s character. While it wouldn’t stop some from giving him the cut direct, those who allied themselves with the Duke would almost certainly consider him in their business propositions. And once he hopefully gained a reputation for being a shrewd investor, the sticklers would undoubtedly come running.
Grinning to himself, Christian stepped into the steaming bathtub set by the fire.What a difference one day could make, he reflected, settling back into the tub. Last night things had looked dire indeed. He thought back to his first meeting with Chastity Shackleford. He had to admit he admired her spirit. And in truth, she was exceedingly pretty. His thoughts suddenly ground to a halt, and he sat up in abrupt realisation.
In all his musings since arriving home, this was the first thought he’d given to his future wife. At no point in the proceedings had he even given the slightest consideration to how she might be feeling. He’d made no attempt to converse with her. Indeed, he’d hardly even looked at her. He swore softly. She was to be the future stepmother of his daughter. Theirs might be a marriage of convenience on both sides, but he did not wish Mercy to grow up in a cold, unhappy household.
His thoughts went back to his words to her in the early hours of the morning.I am not a demonstrative man, so do not expect hearts and flowers. This is a business arrangement and will never be anything more.And worse.I have a child and have no expectations of another, but if being a mother is important to you…
Christian ran his fingers through his damp hair in agitation. He’d basically implied he’d accept her offer of selling herself to hide her shame, but not to expect anything in return. He’d even inferred that they would be intimate only if she wanted to become a mother.
The Earl groaned. Fiend seize it, he’d made a bloody mull of things so far. And he had no idea how to put it right. He wasn’t in love with her, nor she with him, but that didn’t mean they had to live in the kind of sterile relationship he’d described. In truth, he’d been so consumed with his problems, he hadn’t been thinking straight.
Absently, he began to soap his shoulders. She’d actually been waiting for him in his bed. Clearly, her desperation to avoid being leg shackled to Viscount Trebworthy was very real. He found himself chuckling at the look on her face. If she’d hoped to seduce him, she hadn’t really thought it through.
Suddenly, and entirely unexpectedly, he felt himself harden at the thought of Chastity Shackleford lying in his bed waiting for him. Frowning, he stilled, conjuring her face in his mind’s eye. Long chestnut hair. Curly he guessed, remembering the few wayward tendrils escaping her coiffure. Blue eyes with clear skin. He pondered the spots of colour that had been decorating her cheeks. Too late, he wondered whether they might have been there due to annoyance rather than discomfiture.
His mind wandered down to her ample curves. Her dress had been modest but clung as though she’d been poured into it… Christian stopped. The temptation to relieve himself was entirely unexpected and unwelcome. It was simply that he hadn’t been with a woman for some time. Shaking his head to clear it, he quickly finished washing and, reaching for a towel, climbed out of the tub.
The important thing was to rectify his boorish behaviour when they met for dinner on the morrow. The marriage had to be a success, if only for Mercy’s sake.
∞∞∞
It was still dark when Chastity climbed out of bed the next morning. Shivering in the cold, she hurriedly donned her warmest dress and undergarments. It was still bitterly cold outside, and the snow on the ground showed no signs of thawing, so she decided on her serviceable boots along with an extra pair of stockings. Finally, pinning her hair under her bonnet, she picked up her cloak and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
As predicted, Mrs. Fletcher had already risen and was fully dressed, her bag at her feet, nibbling on a hot buttered scone. She looked surprised at spying Chastity. Clearly she had not expected them to meet again. Hurriedly, she climbed to her feet. ‘I…I was waitin’ fer Jimmy,’ she faltered.
‘You be wantin’ a scone, Miss Chastity?’ the cook shouted from her place by the stove. Like her father, Chastity was no stranger to the kitchen staff. Indeed, she found its warm, bustling confines a welcome respite from her sister’s determined efforts to turn her into a lady. Oh she had no illusions that the staff were oblivious to her fall from grace, but here there was no censure.
The Duke’s servants might consider the Shackleford family a little on the eccentric side, but since so many of Nicholas’s servants had their own odd quirks, the family’s foibles were not viewed as anything out of the ordinary.
‘That would be lovely, Mrs. Pidgeon,’ Chastity answered honestly. ‘My father and Percy will be along presently, and I’m certain they would appreciate a little something too.’
She sat down next to Lizzy. ‘We will accompany you to your brother’s house, Mrs. Fletcher,’ she announced, holding up her hand as the widow opened her mouth to protest. ‘It is the least we can do.’
‘But you ‘eard Jimmy, Miss. It ain’t the safest o’ places. Wot would their graces ‘ave to say if anythin’ ‘appened to you.’
‘I’m persuaded we will come to no harm in broad daylight,’ Chastity declared firmly. ‘There is after all safety in numbers, and I’m certain your brother will be grateful to have you delivered to him safe and sound.’
Lizzy gave a rude snort. ‘I doubt ‘e’d care one way or another,’ she scoffed.
‘Then all the more reason for us to accompany you,’ answered Chastity, patting the matron’s hand.
‘I ain’t sure about that Miss Chastity.’ Having overheard the last part of the conversation as he walked into the kitchen, Jimmy had entirely abandoned his Ps and Qs in his anxiety. ‘The Duke’ll string me up ‘isself if I let anythin’ happen’ to you.’
‘Are you suggesting the Almighty will not protect his own?’ boomed the Reverend from behind him in the slippery-slope-downstairs tone he saved for special occasions.
Jimmy visibly paled. ‘No, Sir, of course not,’ he faltered, ‘but…’ He trailed off and looked desperately at Chastity who smiled helpfully.
‘That’s settled then,’ Augustus Shackleford responded, abandoning the fire and brimstone. ‘Mrs Pidgeon, my curate and I will be delighted to take advantage of your good nature and excellent baking skills. Would you be kind enough to wrap up two scones? Percy is even now out braving the freezing cold to summon a hackney coach to take us to our destination.’
Less than five minutes later, they were squashed into a hired carriage whose last occupant had clearly not been on intimate terms with a bar of soap for quite some time, if ever. Either that or he’d been dug up, was the Reverend’s muttered verdict from behind his kerchief.
Flinching, Percy improvised with the hem of his cassock whilst Chastity was fortunate enough to have Freddy on her knee. The foxhound’s coat might have been less than fragrant, but it was better than the foul air in the carriage, and she gratefully buried her nose in the warm fur to block out the worst of the smell.
Both Lizzy and Jimmy appeared unperturbed by the stink, and staring over Freddy’s head, Chastity couldn’t help but wonder if her nose had become more delicate since she began mixing in more exalted circles. Mayhap she had been a little hard on Edmund Fitzroy…
Still, on the positive side, it kept conversation to a minimum, or more specifically Jimmy’s protests. Unfortunately, it also meant that the three conspirators were less observant than they would have been under other circumstances. Thus, it was only the quick thinking of Jimmy that prevented the theft of Chastity’s reticule the very second they stumbled from the carriage. As it turned out, that wasn’t the only shock.
As Jimmy gave chase, expertly manhandling the ruffian to the ground and planting him a prime facer, Lizzy let out a loud screech, and picking up her skirts, ran over to the prone man and walloped him around the head with her bag which connected with an ominous crack.
