Page 34 of Rogue’s Holiday

“Then you can tell your father that Monsieur Donet is from Guernsey, a Crown dependency. For that is where the vicomte makes his home, is it not?”

“I’d forgotten,” said Rose, her face brightening. “Still, Chas, I might prefer Sir Robert were I to have a choice.”

“Sir Robert, despite his apparent wealth, is not a suitor of whom your father would approve. Your parents will want a man whose reputation is above reproach, a man who would ever be faithful. After all, what has he been doing these past years but living a wastrel’s life?” Even as she asked the question, Chastity considered the possibility she might be wrong. But then she thought of the tavern wench and his bold flirtation with the married Countess Lieven. “There will be others, Rose. The Brighton Season is only beginning. And we have Aunt Agatha’s reception to look forward to.”

Rose smiled, her dark eyes glistening with anticipation. “We do, don’t we?”

Robbie arrived at Lady Sanborn’s house on the Steyne at the expected hour of nine o’clock and tied the two horses to a fence post before proceeding to the door where he knocked twice.

The door opened but, before the footman could invite him inside, the demon cat came flying out. Robbie thought he meant to attack, but the beast raced past him. A large dog, passing by and seeing the cat, leapt onto the fence, barking ferociously. The cat hissed but obviously not trusting the fence, scaled the tall tree in the front yard.

Through the front door came Miss Reynolds, looking quite beautiful in her butter yellow riding habit. Ignoring him, she cried to the cat, “Crispin, oh Crispin, do come down at once!”

“Apparently, he does not wish to confront the dog,” said Robbie. “Allow me to remove the menace,” he added with a grin.

A frown furrowed her forehead as if she were reluctant to accept his help. Letting out a sigh, she said, “That would be most helpful, Sir Robert.”

Robbie strode to the fence and, waving his hat at the annoying canine, shooed him away. That accomplished, he joined the lady beneath the tree, staring up at the cat. “He does not appear to be in any hurry to descend.”

“I can see that,” she said, tossing him a look of incredulity. “Crispin is very frightened of large dogs. Small ones he can intimidate rather well, but the big ones remain unimpressed.”

Robbie still had penance to do for running her down in Grillon’s lobby, so he decided to be magnanimous even if it might gain him scratches aplenty. “Here, hold my hat and I’ll fetch him down.”

“You?” she said, taking his hat. “Crispin loathes you.”

“Nevertheless, I shall manage.” Grabbing the trunk, he swung onto a lower branch. Having climbed the rigging on his family’s ships for years, he was well equipped for such a rescue. Once his face was level to the cat’s, he looked into the animal’s golden eyes. “Now Crispin, it is time we made friends. Allow me to assist you to the ground.”

The cat glared at him but, perhaps realizing this was his only path to salvation, did not hiss at Robbie when he pried the cat’s paws from the branch to which he’d been clinging. Free of the tree, the cat clung to Robbie’s chest. With one arm holding the cat, he slowly descended to where he could hand the feline to his mistress. “Here, your familiar, er…your cat, returned to you.”

“Highly amusing, I’m sure,” she said, reaching for the cat. “Still, I am much in your debt. Do come in while I retrieve my hat and riding crop.” As she walked toward the house, she scolded her cat. “Naughty Crispin!”

Inside, he greeted Lady Sanborn and Miss Crockett, who had been watching from the open doorway.

“A magnificent rescue, Sir Robert,” said Lady Sanborn.

“You were wonderful!” exclaimed Miss Reynolds’ friend.

The accolades made his face heat. He did not take well to the hero’s role, preferring anonymity. Perhaps that is why the role of spy had suited him.

Answering Miss Crockett’s unspoken question, he said, “My uncle will be along shortly to collect you.”

“I look forward to our ride,” she said. “I’ve never ridden in a curricle before.”

Miss Reynolds descended the stairs, having retrieved her hat and riding crop. He noticed her half boots were an unusual combination of red and yellow leather and wondered if they were her own creation. He thought it clever of her that she should design shoes. A singular woman to be sure. A woman who could do something. And one he was finding increasingly interesting.

He bid Lady Sanborn good day and followed Miss Reynolds out the door. “I brought you the same mare you rode before, as you and she did well together.”

“We did,” she said. “I like her very much.”

As before, he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her into the sidesaddle.

“I don’t suppose it would do any good to protest the manner in which you assist me into the saddle.”

He grinned. “None at all, Miss Reynolds.” Robbie had much experience with women and he was well aware that if he gave Chastity Reynolds an inch, she would take a mile. More than a mile. He had no intention of granting her an inch.

The Lades were mounted and waiting when they reached the racecourse.

“Allow me to introduce you to Miss Chastity Reynolds,” he said.