Bonds of Matrimony (8 page)

Beneath the tablecloth, Chase
clenched her left fist, wanting nothing more than to beat this man about the
face.
 
Instead, she reached for her
drink and guzzled it down.
 
She
signaled the barkeep for another.
 
“I understand,” she answered, gritting her teeth together in what might
have looked like a grin or a snarl.
 
“And since Elisabeth is the marrying kind, you merely escorted her to
breakfast and endured her idiotic chatter?” she asked.

He gave a barely perceptible
nod while he felt his breast pocket for his cigars.
 
He passed them around the table, and Chase grabbed one,
eager to hide herself behind a cloud of smoke.
 
As she held the match to the cigar, she suddenly remembered
where she’d seen the dark haired beauty who Webb had escorted to breakfast.

“Elisabeth Davies?” she
nearly hollered.

Webb looked up,
startled.
 
“You know her?”

“I recognized her from
somewhere.”
 
Chase took another
puff off of her cigar and snorted deliberately.

It
was the first dance of the Season, and her mother had spent a large portion of
the evening introducing her and Rosalie to various women and their
daughters.
 
Every time they had
walked away from one group, she had informed her daughters of any gossip
surrounding the family and had prattled on about the faults of their
daughters.
 

One
particularly intriguing family had been that of Lady Elisabeth Davies, eldest
daughter of the Earl of Bracknell.
 

“She
was engaged to marry Lord Bradford of Cardiff, but he jilted her at the altar,”
her mother had whispered to them.
 
“The rumor is that he was carrying on with her mother.
 
Her father died shortly thereafter, and
there has been speculation that the new Earl of Bracknell is entertaining the
apologies and regrets of Lord Bradford and that Lady Elisabeth will become Lady
Bradford after all.”

Chastity
had watched the young beauty from across the ballroom and admired her poise and
grace under pressure.
 

Knowing now how she fawned
over a man only slightly more honorable than her betrothed made Chase respect
her a little bit less.
 
Then again,
she was fawning over this same less-than-honorable man herself.
 
If nothing else, Chase could at least
respect her taste in men.

“Funny.
 
She didn’t mention that she knew you.”

“She doesn’t.
 
I’d seen her once at a ball.
 
And naturally, everyone knows the story
of her betrothal to—”

“Rumors,” Webb
interrupted.
 
“A part of her life
she’d rather leave in England, I imagine,” he nodded.
 
He was warning her to keep it to herself; that was
undeniable.
 

She cocked her head to the
side and met Webb’s eyes.
 
“Awfully
protective of a stupid, soulless cow,” she muttered.

Webb’s eyes darkened for a
moment.
 
She’d never seen him angry
before, and the dark look in his expression was terrifying and also somewhat
satisfying.
 
“So I’m better off
staying away from women, unless I want to find myself married?” she asked,
hoping to see the laughter in his eyes again.

“Not all women,
Cochrane.
 
If you’ve got an itch,
there are plenty of women who enjoy sex.
 
Many American saloons have brothels upstairs.
 
You’ll find all kinds of women there eager to please a man…for
the right price,” he added.

“Whores?” she asked,
mortified.

Webb laughed.
 
“I sure hope your brother isn’t as
naïve as you.
 
There’s a lot you
need to learn about life, Cochrane.”

Chase folded for the fifth
time and pushed her chair away from the table.

“Leaving so soon?” Webb
asked, eyes meeting hers in a challenge.

She simply shrugged.
 
“Not my night,” she answered.

***

           
Her
heart was still racing in fury after walking the deck three times.
 
Colton Webb was the most arrogant,
selfish, chauvinistic man she’d ever met in her life.
 
Just this morning, she had woken up thinking what it would
be like to be married to him.
 
Just
this morning she had thought that marriage wouldn’t be so detestable with a man
like Colton Webb.
 
Just this
morning she had been eager to bump into Colton Webb, in spite of the promise she’d
made to her grandmother and sister.

           
And
only a half hour ago, she could not get away from him fast enough.
 
Although she envied men their freedom
and lifestyles, Chase never seemed to have much luck with their gender.

Only months before, her
father had arranged her betrothal to a loathsome man named Jett Stockton.
 
Mr. Jett Stockton was the youngest son
of Viscount Sunderley.
 
True to his
name, his hair was black and generally worn slicked back from his face.
 
His eyes were a piercing steel blue
color.
 
Unfortunately, his arrogant
leer could not be hidden behind his small black mustache.
 
Instead, the mustache only enhanced his
perpetually lewd expression.
 

           
After
dinner was complete, the men had met in the parlor to share some sherry and
cigars while they discussed their brilliance and natural superiority.
 
Chastity had been grateful to escape
Mr. Stockton’s sneers for a bit.
 

           
“What
are you and Father thinking?” she demanded of her mother.
 
“Booth and Stockton are two of the most
disreputable men in England.
 
Surely you are both aware of this.
 
There are stories that both men have carried on with married women and
unmarried daughters.
 
There was
even one story of Mr. Stockton forcing himself upon the daughter of one of his
father’s tenants.
 
The young woman
disappeared, as did the rumors once she was gone.
 
And this is the man you and Father have decided to match
with your eldest daughter.”

           
Her
mother had responded quietly with an accusing tone.
 
“I would never expect you, especially, to pay heed to the
gossip.”

           
“Me,
especially?” Chastity had challenged.

           
Her
mother had studied her thin, jeweled fingers as she had reminded Chase of her
own unfortunate reputation among the gossips.
 
“These are the same people who are responsible for those
despicable lies of you cheating their husbands at cards.”

           
They
were despicable lies
.
 
She had beaten those men fairly.
 
They simply had accused her of cheating because their pride
couldn’t allow them to admit to losing to a woman.
 
Naturally, she had never contested the rumors.
 
She hadn’t been eager for her parents
to learn that she had actually been gambling at the local tavern.
 

Chastity had borrowed some of James’s clothes one evening and snuck out
of the house.
 
She had been bored
nearly to tears and in desperate need of some distractions.
 
The men had welcomed her as a stranger
from out of town until she had stood and bent to retrieve her winnings.
 
She had had a glass of whiskey while they
had played, and when she had stood, the entire smoke-filled tavern had spun
around her.
 
She had stumbled and
lost her hat.
 
Once her long curls
tumbled free, the men finally took a hard look at her and recognized her
immediately.
 
She had grabbed her
winnings and dashed for the door as best she could under the given
circumstances.
 
Although it was a
close call, she had made it to the door without knocking any tables over.
 
If it hadn’t been for her bumping into
one of the wives outside of the tavern, she would have gotten off scot
free.
 
None of those men would have
willingly admitted to losing to a girl.
 
But when his wife caught him gambling and began squabbling with him, he had
blurted out that Chastity Fairfax had cheated them all in order to divert her
attention.
 
And thus, the “rumor”
began.
 

In spite of her own parents’
eagerness to refute the rumors, they had still been devastated and cried over
another spoiled Fairfax reputation.
 
Since that fateful evening, her mother had been more determined than
ever to find her a husband.
 
And
she had been more determined than ever to foil her efforts.

           
Chastity
sat in bitter silence, unwilling to believe that her parents could place their
own pride before the well-being of their daughters.
 
Before long, the men re-entered the dining room, reeking of
cigars and male bravado.

In time, Chase had come to
hate Stockton, his mustache, his shiny hair, and his stupid leer.
 
And even when he threatened her and
physically attacked her, even when her father had defended him and insisted on
a marriage between the two of them, she had never felt such a burning
fury.
 
Granted, she had wanted to
see Stockton dead, but she had never wanted to really hit him.
 
And right now, she wanted nothing more
than to knock Colton Webb out cold.

           
Finally,
the chill of the evening seeped into her bones.
 
Shivering, Chase shoved open the door of her cabin angrily
and slammed it behind her.
 
In the
dark, she heard Reese gasp and sit up in bed.

           
“It’s
just me,” she muttered angrily.

           
Her
voice held sleepy—but sincere—concern.
 
“What’s wrong?”

           
“What’s
wrong?” Chastity repeated.
 
“Oh,
nothing’s wrong.
 
I’ve just had the
pleasure of receiving a lesson on a man’s perception of the two kinds of
women.
 
Did you know that women
like you and me are stupid cows?
 
And we have no soul?!”
 
She
fairly shouted this last bit.
 

           
“What?
 
What’s happened?”

           
It
was too late for her to pretend that she wasn’t upset or to deny that she’d
been with Webb.
 
Reese would see
through those lies immediately.
 
She lit the lantern beside the bed and pulled her knees up to her chin.

           
“At
breakfast this morning, seeing him with that woman…I just wanted to know who
she was and what she meant to him.”

           
“Oh,
Chase,” her sister groaned.

           
“I
know.
 
I shouldn’t have.
 
But I did.
 
So I went to find him and asked him about her.
 
He launched into this speech about how
there are easy women who enjoy certain pleasures and women who are raised to be
proper wives.
 
He called us the
marrying kind.
 
Said that he didn’t
know which is worse, having to sit and listen to our idiotic chatter or having
to bed our cold and soulless bodies.
 
Can you imagine?
 
The nerve
of him!
 
I came so close to hitting
him, Reese.
 
I did!
 
But I finished my drink and got out of
there.
 
And if it’s any comfort to
you, I hope I never see that insufferable ass again!”

           
She
only sighed and reached for the lantern.
 
“Good,” she answered.
 
She
plunged the room into darkness.

           
“I
hope one of his card-playing friends pulls a gun on him again tonight and
shoots him right in that hard head of his.
 
Of course, it probably would bounce right off again, that
bloody arrogant bastard.”
 
Still
cursing in the dark, Chastity managed to untangle herself from her clothing and
crawl into bed beside her sister.

           
“Go
to sleep, Chase,” she scolded.

           
“I’ll
go to sleep.
 
And he can go to
Hell,” she muttered.