Page 17 of Rogue’s Holiday

“Miss Crockett,” said Aunt Agatha. “Come, meet our guest, Sir Robert Powell, who has just come from London.” To the man Chastity now thought of as The Rogue, Aunt Agatha said, “Miss Crockett is my great-niece’s good friend and has traveled with her from Northampton.”

Sir Robert got to his feet and greeted Rose in gentlemanly fashion. Chastity was tempted to utter, “Tsk.”

Rose blushed the color of her carmine gown and offered her hand.

Taking it, he said with a smile, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Rose’s blush deepened and she cast her gaze downward.

Oh, for goodness’ sake.Was there no end to the man’s sham charm?

Chastity narrowed her eyes on her friend who lowered her lashes in coy fashion. Oh, for the love of God. Surely Rose was not taken in by the man’s good looks and suddenly acquired manners.

Rose gracefully subsided onto the sofa next to Sir Robert and accepted a glass of sherry from the footman while surreptitiously stealing glances at the man beside her. She had no idea of the character of the man she was admiring.

“How long will you be in Brighton, Sir Robert?” asked Aunt Agatha.

He shot Chastity a glance. “I’m not certain. Several weeks, I should imagine.” Then, with another look at Chastity and a smile she thought overconfident, he added, “Perhaps the entire summer.”

Conceited oaf!

From the corner of her eye, Chastity glimpsed Crispin strolling into the parlor, his tail flicking from side to side, which told her he was agitated. Seeing Chastity, he came and sat at her feet, his golden eyes fixed on The Rogue.

“Your cat?” he asked, leaning toward her as he studied Crispin.

Crispin rose on all fours, arched his back and hissed. Oh, very good, Crispin. “Why, yes, he is,” she said politely.

“Now I wonder what made him do that,” said Aunt Agatha. “He’s been ever so sweet since the young ladies arrived.”