An Unmistakable Rogue (14 page)

Reed believed they understood each other. No question in either of their minds that this would begin and end with a betrothal to appease Sennett. No marriage. Fine.

Fine, Chastity thought, heart racing. Reed had nearly revealed—to Mr. Sennett of all people—that she stole the children. They would never marry, of course, praise be. She could not believe she had, just last night, dreamed of marrying him.

She sighed; she had forgotten how hard he could be. A betrothal might work, though, as it would enable her to get a firm start on her children’s home in the same way it would enable Reed to search for his heritage. Why was everyone watching her?

“You do agree; do you not, Chastity, my dear?”

“Agree?”

“That you need a chaperone,” Mr. Sennett obviously repeated.

Lord, she must appear a half-wit. “A chaperone?”

Reed stopped his chuckle with a cough. His dratted dimple gave his merriment away, and it rankled that she amused him. “Of course we need a chaperone,” she said, Reed’s instant chagrin turning victory her way.

“Good, good.” You will hire your neighbor, Miss Thea Pomfret,” Sennett said, issuing an order. “She wrote to me just recently, seeking employment.”

“As cook.” Reed grinned. “And housekeeper.”

“The locals are afraid of the Sunnyledge ghost,” Chastity said. “None will come and work here.”

“This woman lives in the vicarage on the property. Her father had the living once, then her brother.”

Chastity went from suspicious to relieved. “The Vicar’s sister?”

Reed shook his head. “This is a woman we’ve not so much as glimpsed in all the time we’ve been here. Sounds like an odd fish to me.”

“We saw her,” Luke said.

“I don’t like her,” Mark added, and Bekah nodded her vehement agreement. Matt simply shrugged.

Reed grimaced. “There’s a glowing recommendation.”

“Nonsense,” Sennett said rising. “She sounds perfect. I’ll go for a jaunt, shall I, and see if she is amenable?”

“Let us all go and see this paragon.” Reed suggested.

The white-washed, thatched-roofed vicarage did indeed sit at the edge of the Sunnyledge property, not twenty feet from a small chapel that Reed decided he surely must search. An earthen path to the vicarage door, well-trod and blue-bell-lined, led almost the entire way from Sunnyledge. Odd that the path should appear so well used, when no one ever did use it, Reed thought.

Sennett rapped the knocker against the scarred arched portal.

An elegant, older woman, her rich, dark hair arranged in a loose bun at her nape, skin pale as porcelain, answered. “Hello,” said she, more than a bit short of breath. Her voice was refined, and a flowery scent that Reed liked not at all, wafted about as she examined them. When she fixed her gaze on him, her smile brightened and she placed her hand on his chest.

Reed stepped from her touch.

“I have missed you,” she said, her eyes awash with tears. “Why did you—”

“You mistake me for someone else,” Reed said, feeling skittish and uncomfortable.

“Miss Pomfret,” the solicitor broke in, “I am Everard Sennett, to whom you wrote seeking employment. This is Mr. Reed Gilbride, the Sunnyledge caretaker, and Mrs. Chastity Somers, who is planning to turn the house into a children’s home. The children are her wards.”

Chastity saw that the woman kept her regard fixed on Reed, her look filled with longing. Then she touched her brow. “Oh, but you cannot be, can you?” She closed her eyes, and opened them again, her smile different, still in place but detached, her eyes duller. “Years have passed, have they not?” She kept only Reed in her sights. “Please call me Thea. What did you say your name was?”

“Gilbride. Reed Gilbride.”

“Ah, yes. Do come in. All of you.”

Thea Pomfret was no housekeeper, Chastity thought, feeling vindicated for her own lack in the kitchen. They followed her into a small cluttered sitting room with low, thick-beamed ceilings. The woman, herself, was elegant and aristocratic in bearing. Her ornate, satin peacock dress—better worn for a ball—must once have cost a King’s ransom. Chastity wondered at Reed’s odd silence and questioned him with her regard.

He shrugged. “Miss Pomfret, do I remind you of someone, the previous owner perhaps? Did you know him?”

“Lovely man was the old Earl, but no, you remind me of no one.” She turned to the children. “I can bake cakes and cookies,” then to Chastity, “Need help, do you? Mr. Sennett, you remembered my letter; how kind.”

Chastity felt a distinct unease in the flighty woman’s presence, but hoped that would change in time. If a chaperone would keep Reed at Sunnyledge, then a chaperone they would hire. “I understand you’re the old Vicar’s sister?”

Thea nodded. “And the older Vicar’s daughter.” She wiped away a nonexistent tear. “Papa and Clive have gone to their just rewards and now I must seek employment.”

She could hardly say no, now, Chastity realized. While the woman’s proximity to Sunnyledge was astonishing, and her own discomfort real, they were hardly reasons to hesitate. “I cannot believe we have never met,” Chastity said.

With a huff of impatience, Mr. Sennett took matters in hand. “Fine, fine, it is settled, then. When can you move in?”

Move in? Chastity thought, as surprised as Reed looked.

“I shall be there within the half hour. Oh, Lord,” she said as they were leaving. “I have so much to do.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Chastity grudgingly conceded that Thea’s oatcakes were lighter in color and considerably more so in texture than hers, though the children, particularly Matt, passed on breakfast. The bread she brought was light, the cheese fresh and tasty, and the very mention of apple tartlets made Reed vocally anticipate luncheon, for which Chastity wanted to thrash him.

Mr. Sennett said his good-byes after Thea’s morning meal, so they were free to explore and search for Reed’s heritage with no thought to running Sunnyledge or feeding the children. By late morning, scents from the kitchen, apples, cinnamon, sage and roast duckling, rose as high as the third floor where they worked.

Reed sent the children to search the trunks in another room, and now he advanced on her. “I want an answer, Chastity. Why did you pretend to be a nun?”

Chastity lowered herself to a shrouded chair, aware that the question was due, but unprepared nonetheless. “Believe it or not,” she said, raising a wide black sleeve. “This is a religious habit. I really was a nun, until the day I married William.” She raised her hand when Reed made to protest. “What I said was true; I was raised by nuns in France at Notre Dame Abbey, where I became a nursing sister at the age of sixteen. Eventually, I worked beside Doctor William Somers.”

If not for William’s anonymous note, they might still be there, with William alive and her, a nun. Chastity shivered at the notion of never meeting Reed or the children, of never giving or receiving love. “William only married me because he wanted a traveling companion for his trip home to England.” And because she had asked him to.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“Nevertheless, we sailed for England the day after we wed.” Her, in despair, having once again been denied the love she craved, “William, filled with excitement and lofty expectations. But during a channel storm, William went on deck, against orders, to tend some injured sailors, and he was washed overboard.” Chastity regarded her trembling hands.

Reed’s hand covered hers. “I am so sorry.” He placed his arms around her. “I did not mean to make you relive the horror.”

“You deserved an explanation.”

Reed stepped away and ran a hand through his hair. “I do, but you have not yet given it. Why did you want me to think you were a nun, still?”

“Oh, that.”

He nodded. “That.”

“Well, you kissed me and—”

“I kissed you?” He cocked a skeptical brow.

“Hush. I thought I’d be safe from ... improper inclinations.”

“On whose part?” He chuckled when she colored. “You can stop wringing your hands now,” he said. “I understand, but Chastity, there’s something you need to understand.”

His intense look made her shiver. “What?”

“You did not succeed in stopping me from having improper inclinations; you simply stopped me from acting upon them. Now there is
nothing
to stop me.”

Chastity turned to the window so he would not see anticipation beating in her breast.

For Reed, luncheon turned out to be uncomfortable more than delicious.

Thea patted Bekah, but she whined and raised a shoulder to shake their chaperone off like a pesky fly, but the woman ignored rejection and continued to fawn, until Bekah went to hide her face against Chastity’s skirts.

Chastity offered Thea an apologetic smile. “Bekah is shy.”

“Or ill-mannered.” Thea’s flash of malice made Chastity haul Bekah on her lap.

Meanwhile, it raised the hair on the back of Reed’s neck. “She
is
shy,” he said, wondering what ailed them all. Why could they not be grateful for Thea’s help with cooking and cleaning? He could, now, look for the proof he needed, Chastity with him, as planned.

If he believed in such things, he might call Thea a Godsend—and if he believed that, he would be a happy man, but he was not, damn it. He was uneasy. “Thank you, Miss Pomfret,” he said, accepting a plate of roast duck and parsnips, trying to give her a chance. “It smells delicious.” He took a bite. “And it tastes better.”

The woman preened as if he had given her diamonds. “What do you think?” she asked Chastity.

“It’s good,” Chastity said, almost reluctantly. “Very good. Delicious.” She smiled. “Thank you, Thea.”

The children’s appetites spoke of their enjoyment, but Reed could see that they were reluctant to hurt Chastity’s feelings, and he decided that their manners were better than he thought.

“I do love a man with a hearty appetite,” Thea said, watching him. “You eat with the same enthusiasm as Edward.”

Reed looked up in surprise. “Edward?”

Thea colored. “Edward St. Yves, his lordship.”

“You did know the Earl of Barrington, then?”

“I did, yes.” She looked into the distance as if gazing into the eyes of a lover, and Reed rubbed the back of his neck, again.

“Did he have a son?” Chastity asked.

“We grew up together, but I can tell you nothing of his life after his marriage.”

Chastity looked puzzled. “Your family moved away?”

“No, but neither did we move in the same circles. There was talk of children, but it was foolishness, and we at the Vicarage never pass gossip, you understand?”

Thea had just put Chastity in her place, Reed thought, and lost her chance to win his, or the children’s approval in the bargain.

Stunned speechless, Chastity wished her unease in the woman’s presence did not already lean toward a strong dislike. Thea seemed fond of children, but did not know how to relate to them. To be fair, the woman did know her way around a kitchen. So what was there about her that seemed so ... off-balance? She was pleasant and pretty, with smooth alabaster skin, despite her age, in stunning contrast to her ebon hair. She bore the kind of figure often compared to an hourglass. Each of her movements seemed planned, however, to display her body, as if it were her greatest asset. Chastity had never seen the like. Even Thea’s smile seemed perfect, except that it did not reach her eyes.

No matter how Chastity tried, she could not like the woman. “Delicious dinner, Miss Pomfret. Was it not, children?”

“I s’pose,” Matt said, while Bekah shook her head in denial, and Mark shrugged.

“I like Kitty’s cookin’ better,” Luke said.

“They’re trying to make me feel better,” Chastity told Thea, “but they ate your tarts, rather than stashing them.”

Reed chuckled as he ushered the children out to work in the garden. “What time is dinner?” he stopped to ask, but Chastity hauled him out the door before he got an answer.

“Reed, come see my flying machine,” Luke said.

“No time to play; we have chores to do in the garden.”

“Aw Reed, we never have time to play, anymore.”

“You have more time than I ever did. Come along, now. We need to work together.”

“Alright,” Luke said, so disappointed, Chastity felt sorry for him. But Reed was right, they must work together.

“I need help getting the barrow and tools,” Reed said.

“Kitty will help you.” Matt proceeded to the garden, looking better than he had since he’d been sick all over Reed. “We’ll start weeding.”

“Come, my betrothed.” Reed took her arm in his.

Chastity opened her mouth to protest and changed her mind. Though their betrothal was a sham, a game of sorts, it would be fun to be courted, to see what he meant about his
inclinations
. A shiver of anticipation coursed through her as she remembered him in her room the night before.

Reed was still smiling when he knelt in the rich moist earth some time later. He should not tease Chastity over their betrothal, but she deserved it. He had forgiven her rather easily for trying to make him believe she was a nun, after all.

He reached for a handful of beans at the same time she did, and when their fingers met, he’d swear they set off a spark that surprised them both.

He liked working beside her, and was amused by the children’s ploys to throw them together. If Chastity knew how he encouraged the imps, she would skin him like a
chicken
for the pot. He grinned.

“Pull that small plant, Luke, to allow the larger one beside it to flourish. There you go. Be careful not to take the strong with the weak. Sometimes they’re so close, the roots tangle.”

Mark looked up, but said nothing. That boy would not reveal any of his needs, not even for a gardening lesson, but there was no doubt in Reed’s mind that Mark listened to his instructions and followed them to the letter. Mark must learn to trust—though he would never admit it—that he and Chastity had his family’s best interests in mind.

Luke returned with the barrow, now empty of weeds, and set it down. “Wow! What’s that?” He leaned down and placed his hand under Reed’s chin to direct his gaze.

“Wow is right.” Reed stood, unconsciously seeking Luke’s hand. “It’s a hot air balloon. Amazing the way it hangs as if suspended, like one of DaVinci’s drawings, come to life.”

A miniature man leaning over the basket waved. “Ho, the ground,” he called as the amazing contraption floated past, heading in the direction of an abandoned pasture.

“Ho, the balloon!” Reed yelled, cupping his hands about his mouth. “Bring her down!”

The man waved in answer. “Clear the way.”

“Oh my,” Chastity said, catching Reed’s attention. If her eyes got any wider or brighter, he would be too captivated to function.

Reed expelled a breath of appreciation. A man could get lost in such a wondrous expression. “I have a mind to soar today,” he said, not taking his gaze from hers. “Let’s go.”

Chastity blushed and Luke shouted, “Yes!” and ran toward the descending airship, his brothers right behind.

Reed sought Bekah with his gaze and found her beside the garden, where she sat watching him. The single braid he had put in her hair that morning—she never let Chastity braid it—touched the grass behind her. Her eyes were as wide as Chastity’s, as she gazed at the marvel of design floating above them.

Reed dashed over and lifted her like a sack of grain, his arm about her middle, her head and feet dangling. Then he ran and caught Chastity’s hand, pulling her behind them.

An odd sound, like a snicker, caught Reed’s attention, until it became what could only be termed a full-scale giggle, and he saw that it was not Chastity, though her smile was wide and her breathing quick.

Reed stopped so fast, Chastity ran into him, and was knocked to the ground, escalating the giggle, but by the time Reed got Chastity on her feet, the laughter had stopped. “Did you hear that?”

Chastity raised her chin. “What?”

Chastity had said
damnation
when she hit the ground, but that was not was he meant. Reed grinned. “Not that. I thought you were laugh—” And then it hit him. He winked at Chastity and ran a circle around her, jiggling his tiny passenger for all she was worth.

The snicker commenced again and grew into a giggle, the likes of which expanded his heart to such a degree that it ached, and rose to form a lump in his throat.

Chastity’s eyes filled.

Reed stopped running and the lovely sound slowed to hiccupping snickers, which escaped at intervals. He hooked his arm with Chastity’s and they ran in circles together, until they were, all three, laughing so hard, they could hardly breathe.

Reed stopped to toss Bekah in the air, and her laughter trebled. Then the mite closed her arms around his neck and he was hugging her, her tiny face soft against his cheek, her giggles magnified in his ear. And Reed thought that he could regard the joy on Chastity’s face, and listen to the giggle on Bekah’s lips, for the rest of his days and never tire.

He was shocked, however, when Chastity’s laughter turned, for no reason, to tears, which explained why and how someone could weep with joy.

Reed pulled Chastity close and kissed her brow, then he held Bekah so they could both see her face, but when she saw Chastity’s tears, her smile faded. So Reed dangled and jiggled her again, took Chastity’s hand, and they ran toward the boys, waiting up ahead.

“Listen up boys,” Reed said when they got there. “Have you ever heard this sound?” He shook Bekah like a sack of grain, upsetting her brothers on the instant.

Mark took an aggressive step forward, until he heard the giggle.

Luke lay himself down on the grass beneath Bekah’s face to watch. “She looks stupid upside down,” he said. “But that’s our Bekah, all right, makin’ all that noise.” He rose grinning. “Mark, Bekah’s laughing.
Our
Bekah.”

“Thank you, sir,” Matt said to Reed.

Mark ruffled Bekah’s hair and gave Reed a nod, and Reed realized that Bekah was not the only Jessop who could speak without words.

What a day.

The balloon navigator’s name was Giles Laporte, from Canada, and he loved his rotund air ship.

“Our father went to Canada,” Mark said.

“Did not,” Matt said.

“Did too. I heard Mum say so.”

Reed held Matt and Mark apart, stopping a fight before it began. “We will discuss our manners before others, later.”

“Did you fly your balloon over the ocean?” Luke asked.

“No, young man, I did not. I packed it up and brought it on a voyage so rough, it made me worry that I’d end up beneath the sea rather than above the clouds.”

Though Chastity was struck at the reminder of her husband’s passing, Reed saw that her sadness passed with the children’s questions.

Giles explained to Matt that you couldn’t see much from above the clouds, except cloud-tops, like mounded goose-feathers, said he, and the children laughed, except Bekah who would only do so if shaken.

Reed didn’t care. He would shake on demand anytime.

“One cannot breathe well up there,” Giles said. “I rose above the clouds, but once, close enough to know I’d not go that far again,
merci beaucoup
.”

Giles agreed to let Reed take each child up for a short ride, but he was superstitious and could not be talked into letting the family go up together. “Tempting fate,” he said. “One at a time,
s’il vous plait
, with
Monsieur
Reed, while I hold the drop line like a tether.”

Matt asked a dozen questions, and being the man of his family insisted upon going first to make certain it was safe, after which, he gave permission for his brothers and sister to accompany Reed in turn.