Page 44 of Rogue’s Holiday

Knowing to speak of the king might raise a sensitive chord for Mrs. Fitz, Chastity thought to involve her in the conversation. “Have you sailed on the royal yacht, Mrs. Fitz?”

“Not the one the king sails today, my dear. I sailed with him on the Royal Caroline many years ago before he became regent.”

“I should look forward to sailing,” said Chastity. She gave Sir Robert a hopeful glance as he had promised to include her should he receive an invitation from the king, but he was lost in his thoughts.

As the plates were removed and the next course served, her great-aunt said, “My friends tell me there’s to be a ball at the Royal Pavilion celebrating the king’s return. I imagine you will be invited, Sir Robert, as well as M’sieur Donet, since you are his guests for the summer.”

“A ball at the Pavilion!” exclaimed Rose. “I can only imagine.” Her eyes glistened with excitement.

Chastity was a little excited herself. Except for the Winter Assembly in Northampton, which didn’t really count, she had not been to a ball since her failed first Season in London. Perhaps this ball would provide a better memory.

“You must go if you can,” said Mrs. Fitz to Chastity and Rose. “The balls held at the Pavilion are something to see and the music grand.” Chastity was pleased to observe that the woman who was once Prinny’s favorite held no rancor for her erstwhile husband but unselfishly delighted in the possibility of Chastity and Rose enjoying themselves at his Pavilion.

“I wonder when such an event might occur,” Sir Robert said, but he appeared distracted. She puzzled over the cause. A moment later, he leaned toward Chastity. “Even with all those years on my family’s ships, I did manage to learn to dance. Of course, ’twas most often the sailor’s hornpipe we danced to, not a waltz.”

She was tempted to utter a “Humph” but kept silent in light of the company. She was familiar with the rollicking fiddle music but could not imagine dancing to its tune. Then again, on a ship’s deck, she might be persuaded.

The vicomte turned to Rose. “I learned to dance in Guernsey, the same place I learned to fence. But since a Bourbon now sits on France’s throne, I can again dance at the Tuileries.”

Rose smiled at the Frenchman. “That sounds very romantic, M’sieur. I imagine you are a very good dancer.”

In a deeper French accent than typically characterized his speech, he replied, “You will have to allow me to show you, Mademoiselle.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Fitz, “it strikes me you will certainly have a grand evening should the ball come to pass.”

After dinner, they retired together to the parlor where tea was served for the women and brandy for the men. “You may rest assured, M’sieur Donet,” said Aunt Agatha, “that the brandy you drink is the finest French cognac.”

“I will have to bring you some from my family’s estate,” said the vicomte.

Chastity took that opportunity to urge Rose to entertain them with a song.

“If you’re sure you would want me to,” Rose said shyly.

“Of course we do,” said Aunt Agatha. “We’ll sit here enjoying our drinks and listen to your lovely voice.”

Rose nodded and took her place at the pianoforte. Setting her fingers on the keys, she began to play. Soon she was singing a haunting melody. Her voice had an unusual quality, a throaty, pleasing sound that brought much emotion to the music. The song she chose was the Irish tune “Robin Adair”, one she often sang in Northampton to great effect.

What made the assembly shine?

Robin Adair.

What made the ball so fine?

Robin was there:

What when the play was o’er,

What made my heart so sore?

Oh! It was parting with

Robin Adair.

Chastity watched the vicomte as he listened, enraptured, his eyes never leaving her beautiful dark-haired friend. Glancing at Sir Robert to see his reaction, she was surprised to observe he had fallen into brooding silence, drawn into his thoughts. His eyes were downcast as he pensively twisted the glass of brandy in his hand. What could have brought about such a change—from smiling rogue to brooding dinner guest—in so short a time? Whatever was he thinking?

Robbie had not been able to take his eyes off Chastity Reynolds as they dined. A vision in blue, her eyes the color of a calm sea in tropical waters, he recalled the feel of her body as he’d reached for her waist that morning on the beach. Now, staring into his brandy, his mind considered the danger surrounding him in Brighton, a danger that could plague her as well.

Since the day he’d been followed on North Street, he’d not experienced the uncanny feeling of being watched. Nor had he observed anyone hiding in the trees that morning on the grounds of the Pavilion. But someone could have been there, watching. Distracted as he was by Miss Reynolds, it was possible he’d failed to detect eyes upon him. The crowded fish market had contained all levels of society. While the people perused the fish, they also watched each other. Surely he and Chastity Reynolds had been observed. Again, he worried that the enemies of the Crown would turn their eyes on her or even her great-aunt.