Page 35 of Lord of Mistrust

“You’ll be wearied from your journey. I’ll send for refreshment.” Uncle Matthew had a martial glint in his eyes as he glanced at Chloe.

She shuddered. Your reckoning will come, that look warned her—but the diatribe would not be delivered in front of their visitors. Besides which, the fact that she’d sneaked off to meet Mistress Dela Riviere—who ran a bawdy house—was not something for strangers’ ears. Nor those of the neighbors.

Robert and Whiteley were happy to accept leather jacks of small beer, cold hunks of herb omelet, and slices of minced hogget tart with apricots. Chloe struggled to eat—she was too anxious about what the morrow might bring. For all she knew, her guardians would lock her up and refuse all visitors. Or drag her to the altar with Lord Brooke, keen to get their troublesome charge off their hands.

The truth of the matter was, she couldn’t blame them. But the fault wasn’t all on her side. They should never have kept the identity—or the existence—of her parents a secret from her. She had a right to know something of such great import.

“I think the likelihood of such misadventure happening again is practically nonexistent,” Robert was saying. “If Mistress Emmerson is always accompanied, she should be able to make any future journeys in safety.”

He was charm itself, and she could tell by the fluttering of Aunt Philippa’s eyelashes that she was impressed by him. She avoided meeting Robert’s eyes, certain she’d give her feelings away with a blush or inadvertent gesture.

Talk revolved around less serious matters until the repast was over. Then came the moment she’d been dreading—Robert and Whiteley stood to take their leave.

Robert bowed deeply. “I trust, sir, that both myself and Master Whiteley may return in the future, to inquire after Mistress Chloe’s health?”

Her aunt answered for Matthew. “Oh, Sir Robert, need you even ask? Of course, there would be no objection, indebted to you as we are. You’re welcome at any time, gentlemen, both of you. It sounds as if you’ve treated Chloe with every courtesy, and we’re grateful for the protection you’ve given her. Will you come back through the house, or shall I have a servant fetch your cloaks?”

“Have our cloaks fetched, if you please. We’ll let ourselves out through the back gate, since that’s where our horses are tied.” Robert bowed again, pressed Aunt Philippa’s hand, then came to stand beside Chloe.

“You and I will speak ere long,” he whispered. “Pray—do not embark on any further adventures. Adieu.”

A brutal pain struck at her heart. He was going, and she didn’t know when they’d meet again. It was too much to bear. “I’ll show the gentlemen out and return forthwith,” she announced. She’d prolong his departure if she could.

Her uncle’s suspicious gaze darted between her and Robert, but she plastered on a mask of innocence. Uncle Matthew contented himself with shooting her another warning look, then took his wife back into the house.

Nothing was said as the men donned their hats, cloaks and sword belts. Chloe walked to the gate beside Robert, with Whiteley keeping a discreet distance ahead of them. As soon as he disappeared through the door, Robert stopped just inside and clasped her hand between both of his.

“I must have an interview with Walsingham next, my dove. I beg of you, do naught about contacting your father until you and I have spoken again. There’s something you must know, which I don’t have time to reveal now. Nay, ’tis naught to do with Walsingham or spies—well, not directly. ’Tis a personal matter concerning my sister, Meg, and my family situation. Do I have your promise you’ll not progress your plan to see Sir Mortimer before I return?”

It was the last thing to which she wanted to agree. Robert had piqued her curiosity, the accursed rogue. What had his family to do with hers? And why had he left it until now to mention it? His revelation blasted a hole through her happiness.

“How long must I wait?” She tried to keep the irritation from her voice.

“Only for a day or so, I’m certain. After my business with Walsingham is done, I’ll talk to your father and explain everything.”

What? Robert meet with her sire before she did? Where was the fairness in that? “But—”

He laid a finger on her lips. “No more questions, I pray. I must be gone. Be of good cheer, sweeting. Our paths will cross again ere long, and I trust I’ll be bringing you tidings you wish to hear.”

He kissed her fingers, swept off his hat with an elaborate bow, and strode out to the street. Tempted though she was to watch him until he was out of sight, she feared being missed and hastened back to rejoin her aunt and uncle.

Robert had said that he hoped to bring good news. Did that mean he’d intercede for her with her father? Persuade him to acknowledge her as his child, and permit her an audience? Was Robert planning to seek her hand in marriage, thinking it was more important to square the matter with Sir Mortimer before appealing to Uncle Matthew? How was she to know? Mayhap he intended to repeat the annotated tale of their dealings together, so that neither he nor she would be the subject of Sir Mortimer’s wrath.

Infuriating knave! Why could he not have told her what he’d planned? They’d had plenty of opportunity during their long ride. And why could she not be present when he met her father? Surely, she had more right than Robert. It was abominable that women were so seldom permitted to be involved in such matters. Were the words, opinions, and insights of the gentler sex not of value, too?

As she neared the house, her aunt and uncle’s voices drifted to her ears from the open parlor window.

Her aunt, who sounded much recovered, was speaking. “Can we trust to the discretion of the gentlemen not to noise Chloe’s misadventure abroad? I would not have it known she’s the kind to get herself into a scrape. Lord Brooke would never approve.”

Chloe’s heart sank. Were they still thinking of uniting her to Lord Brooke? Had her perilous exploits been to no avail? She must trust Robert to talk Sir Mortimer around. Indeed, her father was the only one who could veto her guardians’ decision.

“They seem pleasant enough fellows, my dear. I doubt there’s any cause for concern.”

“But scandal has a way of rising to the top, like scum on a fishpond. Other people were involved in Chloe’s rescue from those rogues in Hampshire, and they may have been of the lesser kind, and disinclined to hold their tongues.”

Chloe crouched low below the window, eager to hear what she could. A peep into the room showed Uncle Matthew standing by the fireplace, one booted foot resting on the hearthstone.

“The only solution that I can see is to give the girl distraction and, at the same time, secure her reputation. Forgive me, but seeing what happened with your sister, I warrant we can take no chances with Chloe. Should she prove to have the same willful, volatile nature… I hate to speak ill of Patience, but there it is.”