Since the Surrender (36 page)

“Petty, hardened criminals, the half of them,” Kinkade continued.

“None of them violent, mind you, or I wouldn’t have them in with my clients. But they’ll steal again. Prey on you, perhaps members of your family.”

“No one preys on Everseas, Kinkade, and lives to tell about it.”

This was rather supported by proof, and everyone in the room knew it.

Kinkade was silent, then said, “I thought you were a great believer in crime and punishment and all that, Eversea. How many subalterns were flogged for stealing?”

“This isn’t war. If these girls steal again and are caught, then they’ll have to contend with whatever brand of justice the English courts decide. Not yours.”

“So you’re judge and jury?”

“Why not? You’ve been.”

“Dead. All of them will be dead, Chase,” Kinkade said wearily. “If not

“Dead. All of them will be dead, Chase,” Kinkade said wearily. “If not by the noose, then suffering on a ship somewhere on the way across the ocean.”

Everyone knew this was indeed a possibility.

Chase said, “It doesn’t give you the right to use a flawed system to serve your pleasure, or to prey upon the powerless. You’ll be leaving the country for Botany Bay on a ship that sets sail tomorrow.

”

Kinkade snorted. “You can’t make me do anything of the sort.”

“I can.”

“Lucy will go to trial, if I do,” Kinkade ground out. Whiter around the mouth now. Silvery eyes glittering with anger. “I’ll see to it. Every witness called will testify that she stole.”

“Lucy’s accuser will find himself more than compensated for whatever grief he experienced when she stole a bracelet, and I shall make very sure he never makes that accusation about her again.”

“But I didn’t—” Lucy began to protest. Then sighed, as the truth was rather more complicated. In her eyes, anyhow.

“I have no faith that you’ll do any good wherever you go, Kinkade. But as you said, England does like to rid itself of its criminals, and it will be ridding itself of you. You’ll volunteer to go, in fact, which will make you look quite the hero. Turn around,” he barked, a sound familiar to Rosalind: Captain Charles Eversea in command.

“MacGregor?”

MacGregor knew what to do. He whipped off his cravat and Chase tied Kinkade’s hands behind his back, shoved him in the room once occupied by Lucy, and locked the door.

“We’ll escort him to that ship tomorrow,” he said to MacGregor.

“Yes, sir,” MacGregor said, color restored to his face. Honor restored to his life.

MacGregor was dispatched to tell the gentlemen downstairs to go home as quickly as possible through the Covent Garden exit—as luck would have it, another tunnel emptied out near the Final Curtain—as word had just reached them that they were in grave danger of being discovered.

They all abandoned their drinks and scrambled out in a sheepish panic, some still in fantasy costume. Then again, it was Covent Garden. Doubtless no one would look twice should an eighteenthcentury pirate go staggering down the street. And Chase and Rosalind, dragging Lucy with them, went one by one knocking on doors, interrupting “pleasure” in progress if necessary, until all the men were sorted out from all the women, and the surprised women—resentful pirate wench included—were ushered out through the Covent Garden exit, too, and told to leave, lest they risk arrest.

Not one of them needed to be told twice.

All, that was, except Meggie Plum, Lucy, and Cora Myrtleberry, who’d been restored to her own clothing (“Ye willna tell me da I dressed as a mermaid, will ye?” she asked anxiously, and she was assured they would not) and returned with Rosalind, Chase, and Sergeant MacGregor through the museum tunnel. Ireton had apparently regained consciousness and gone home. He was no longer slumped against the wall, anyway.

Though he’d forgotten his hat.

“Oh, Ireton was forever going out the wrong way,” MacGregor explained. “He has a terrible sense of direction. He likely wanted the Covent Garden tunnel and ended up here.”

Which explained why he’d been scurrying through the museum that day.

“Would you like a souvenir?” Chase asked Rosalind, holding out Ireton’s hat to her, chucking her under the chin with the plume.

“Let’s leave it here to confuse future generations when they excavate a bricked-in tunnel. They’ll be puzzled, no doubt.”

“Very good thought, indeed.”

So they left the hat upside down, where it was, and he pulled the sconce, and for the very last time they all passed through the museum wall.

The wall thunked closed behind them.

As an afterthought, Chase lifted the Rubinetto down from the wall and took it with him. He had plans for it.

Cora Myrtleberry was restored to the arms of her joyous father, who was waiting in the museum breathlessly, and they dashed off to no doubt do puppety things.

Meggie Plum was delivered to a joyous Liam at the home of Cousin Adam Sylvaine, and Meggie dropped to her knees and squeezed her brother nearly blue and wept just a little.

“Girls,” Liam said disdainfully over his sister’s shoulder to Chase, though his eyes were suspiciously damp, too.

Rosalind decided to take Meggie and Liam to her town house.

So Rosalind’s formerly quiet town house was suddenly filled with people: a chastened Lucy, who was packed off to bed with tea instantly, and Liam and Meggie, who were to share another room for at least the evening. It was rather nice but a bit overwhelming. She would need the maid to come in more frequently, she thought, if this was to be the shape of things.

Rosalind considered making tea, but her eyes would not stay open.

“I suppose I’ll be off.”

She looked up at Chase. It was something someone might say after they’d departed a dinner. It reminded her of his There’s that done, then, after they’d made explosive love for the first time in the museum.

“Why are you smiling?” he wondered.

She just shook her head.

“Rosalind?”

“Mmm?”

He hesitated. “Did he really forgive us?”

“He did. The only person who hadn’t forgiven you is you.”

Chase’s head went back at this. And then came down in realization. And then he frowned at her a bit to punish her for being so insightful. Which made her smile.

“I was sorry to have to leave you alone with the consequences, Rosalind. I knew he must have known.”

“Oh, I survived. It wasn’t comfortable, but he was not as shredded as one might think. He was made unhappy, but I believe he understood. He loved us both, and he knew I was terribly sorry to hurt him. I never had any illusions about whether or not I was human; I am all too human. But Chase…I knew I ought to have been, but I was never sorry that you kissed me.”

He hesitated. “Neither was I,” he said softly.

Quite an admission of humanity from Captain Eversea. And then they were quiet.

This had begun to feel very like good-bye.

He glanced at the door, as if to confirm this, and then hesitated.

“Am I doing the right thing?” he asked. “Allowing all those women to go? Letting Kinkade go to Botany Bay without a public humiliation?”

“What is right? What is wrong? You made a few people immeasurably happy. You righted a few wrongs. You can only follow your instincts when the rules fail, and I would trust the people I love to your instincts any day, Chase.”

He gave her a half smile. “It’s an honor to be trusted by you, Rosalind.”

She looked into his blue, blue eyes. He was weary, too.

“I have a confession,” he said. “I know I righted a few wrongs. But I mainly wanted to make things right for you.”

It was a lovely confession. “You did.”

In so many ways.

“Thank you for everything,” she said softly.

She did mean everything. From Lucy to the brothel to exquisite pleasure in the huge curtained bed, which seemed an eternity ago. To making her feel more like a woman than she’d ever felt in her entire life. For resolution. For being the extraordinary person he was.

“Thank you for defending me against the puppet,” he said. She laughed.

He leaned down, cupped her face in one hand and kissed her gently, his mouth warm and open, his tongue touching her tongue just slightly, sweetly. Their lips clung, and once again all of her senses surged toward him. Her body began to melt into him. But he ended the kiss before she did, with what appeared to be an effort. “I’m returning to Sussex tomorrow to say good-bye to my family.”

She reared back suddenly and spent a moment in silent absorption.

“Will you…will say good-bye to me before you leave for India?” she finally said softly.

He went abruptly still.

“Yes.” He smiled faintly, and it was a smile she didn’t quite understand. Ironic. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I will come to say goodbye.”

“What’s this?” Colin was holding the Rubinetto and staring at in puzzlement.

“It reminded me of you. See? Air whistles right through a hole in the cow’s arse.” Chase demonstrated by holding it up and blowing through it.

“Splendid!” Colin was delighted with his gift.

Chase told him the entire story, counting, of course, on his brother’s discretion in every regard, eliminating, for Rosalind’s sake and the sake of his own pride, some of the more intimate details. And was that a twinge of…longing! Ah yes, indeed it was. Longing in Colin’s eyes. Colin missed being a rascal. But not as much as he enjoyed being a farmer and a husband.

“I thought I ought to give it to you to remember me by. I might not have looked beneath the cow’s tail at all if not for you.”

This had made Colin nearly misty-eyed.

But it could have been because they’d just had a series of farewell pints at the Pig & Thistle, and were now lounging about the drawing room as his mother and father and all his brothers and sisters

—Olivia and Genevieve, Ian and Marcus—went in and out, testing Chase’s mood and discovering him much improved. They hadn’t taken kindly to his news that he was leaving for India, but if this was taken kindly to his news that he was leaving for India, but if this was the cause of the much improved Chase, they would reluctantly embrace his decision.

Though they never said as much to him. Just to each other.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so insufferable.” Apologizing was not Chase’s long suit. He said this stiffly.

“I never thought you were insufferable,” Colin lied. Chase stared at him, waiting for it.

“We all thought you were insufferable.” He grinned. And they were worried about him, too, Chase realized now. As usual, they had known what was best for him by sending him to London, and to visit the vicar, and they’d been right. But it was far too girlish a thing for any of his brothers to say to him. He was now quite touched he’d been sent off to see to the vicar, because he suspected he knew the reason why.

They’d been quite worried he’d meant I cannot bear it any longer literally, in another way entirely.

Perhaps, in a way, he had.

“Will we like the vicar?”

“Very much, I think.” He didn’t tell Colin his suspicions about the vicar or his odd moment of profundity. It was something he would share only with Rosalind. If nothing else, leading Adam Sylvaine to Pennyroyal Green would potentially ensure that the place didn’t become dull in his absence.

“You look better.”

“Better than what?” Chase said crossly.

“Peaceful.” Colin often did that: said something so surprisingly insightful one didn’t have time to formulate a sarcastic response. Chase suspected his brother and the vicar would become fast friends.

He knew a regret, suddenly, that he wouldn’t witness it. Though he’d begun training his thoughts away from regrets, from all regrets, and toward India, because India would be his life now.

“I’m doing what I’m made to do. It’s my purpose. Somehow war shaped me; I seemed to have no say in the matter. You, and Ian…”

“We fought and came home. You were the real warrior, though. Born to it. And the country, and whomever and however you serve are luckier for it. I really think you ought to marry, though.”

Chase gave Colin a dark look and surrendered to a moment of gloom. He contemplated telling Colin that he had proposed to someone, but didn’t want to dim the glow of Colin’s marital bliss by asking his brother to bear his disappointment along with him. And he understood now that Colin wasn’t merely being insufferable: his brother truly wanted him to know the kind of happiness he had.

“Perhaps I ought to,” he said gently.

And Colin’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

And then Chase remembered something he’d meant to ask Colin.

“Do you still own the suit of clothes you wore to the gallows?”

“Oh, it’s rather worse for wear now, but I can likely locate all the pieces.”

“May I have them?”

“Consider them a parting gift, brother.”

Rosalind paused between packing her trunk for her return to Derbyshire to arrange a tea tray: black tea, two cups. And then she waited.

The knock at the door made her heart jump, even as she knew whom it would be.

She led Chase, hat and walking stick in hand, into the parlor. As usual, he seemed to fill most of the place up.

She’d drawn the curtains mostly closed, but the afternoon light squeezing in through the many-paned windows wasn’t the kindest or softest. He was stark in it. He looked weary; the lines raying from the corners of his eyes seemed a little deeper now, as did the hollows beneath. He could have done with a closer shave; a faint hint of blue remained beneath his chin. He looked exactly his age. He looked beautiful, in other words.

“You sail, then. In a few hours,” she said softly. Well, why not begin a conversation by stating the obvious? Since he hadn’t seemed inclined to begin the conversation at all.

“I sail in a few hours.” He nodded, confirming the obvious. And then it seemed they’d exhausted conversation. She motioned him to the settee, and they sat beside each other, knees not touching. Imposing a certain almost comical propriety, for all the world as though the presence of a porcelain teapot was a grim chaperon ensuring decorum.

“Lucy has been installed with Miss Marietta Endicott at her academy in Pennyroyal Green,” he told her.