“Very well. You may inform Lord Lindale it would be my pleasure.” Though Chloe’s tone was tinged with sarcasm, Aggie overlooked it and gave a little leap of joy.
She clapped her hands together. “What will you wear?”
Something like butterflies took flight in Chloe’s belly. But it must be Aggie’s enthusiasm that left her a wee bit giddy. As for a gown, she really hadn’t much to choose from, but it didn’t matter because this wasn’t at all what it appeared. “I don’t know,” Chloe answered honestly, and laid the invitation down upon the bed, contemplating her choices.
Unbidden, the memory of his kiss assaulted her, and her heart flopped against her breast. Her face felt flushed and her palms slightly damp. She stood, fanning herself, trying to eradicate the taste of his mouth from her lips, the very memory of his embrace. “Perhaps I shouldn’t go, after all,” she said weakly. “I feel suddenly quite feverish.”
Aggie giggled softly. “It’s only nerves, Miss Chloe,” she said, sounding suddenly far too mature. Another glance at the girl’s face showed a very different Aggie. Something about the knowing look in her eyes made Chloe feel like the more naive of the two.
Chloe took in a breath and tried to clear her head.
There was so much to be done in so little time. Zounds, but there must be something suitable she had to wear.
A sense of panic enveloped her, and she rushed to the wardrobe. Opening it revealed a meager assortment of garments that might have embarrassed her to wear in more finer households, but here, at Glen Abbey Manor, everything was old and overused. Even some of Lady Fiona’s gowns were somewhat worse for the wear. Still, Aggie gasped with delight at the riches Chloe unveiled and Chloe felt an immediate twinge of guilt.
Chloe reached in, pulling out a very wrinkled dress of soft blue chiffon with ivory lace cuffing at the sleeve and hem. The neckline was fashionable but modest. She’d worn the gown to her cousin’s wedding in Edinburgh two years past and there hadn’t been an occasion to wear it since.
Aggie sighed wistfully. “Oh! It’s beautiful, Miss Chloe! It’s aboot time to stop wearing those mourning colors anyway.” She held her hands out. “I will take it and press it at once.”
Chloe wasn’t accustomed to being waited upon. “Oh, no!” she said. “I don’t mind doing it myself.”
“But I insist!” Aggie said. “It’ll be my pleasure, Miss Chloe. Anyway, you’ve your own duties to attend.” She tried to take the dress from Chloe’s hands and Chloe frowned.
“Well… thank you, I suppose,” she said, reluctant to release the gown. It wasn’t her place to utilize servants in such a fashion, and she was scarce more than a servant herself.
Aggie pulled the gown firmly from her grasp, smiling reassuringly. “It’s a fine day, Miss Chloe, when one of them notices one of us. I desperately wish to do this, please.”
Chloe sighed. “Very well,” she relented, releasing the dress.
But, after all, she hated to disappoint Aggie; she was certain Lord Lindale hadn’t romance on the mind, and she wanted to warn her not to get her hopes up.
Aggie didn’t give her an instant to reconsider. The girl scurried out of the room with a flurry of blue chiffon trailing behind her, and the instant she was gone, Chloe wanted to race after her.
She simply couldn’t do this.
She’d never dined with a man before—not alone. And come to think of it, never at all. Her father didn’t count, and he’d never invited guests to their house. He’d worked hard and she had worked by his side, eagerly learning everything he would teach her. By the end of the day, it had been a blessing simply to enjoy a peaceful meal together.
It was Chloe’s childhood dream to continue her father’s practice, but it wouldn’t be an easy goal to achieve because she wasn’t a man and therefore could never formally study medicine. What she knew, she knew only because her father had respected her enough to teach her and because she’d pored over his medical journals. It was highly unlikely that she could take her skills to Edinburgh or to London. No one there would ever seek the care of a woman. Only in Glen Abbey was she free to pursue her dreams, but when she’d lost her house, she’d lost what little security a roof over her head had afforded.
Lindale, the cad, was a greedy penny-pinching thief who parted with his coin only to satisfy his own vices. That he’d agreed to double her salary was perfectly shocking, but Chloe would need to see it to believe it.
Hmm, she thought. Perhaps the fall knocked some decency into him. One could only hope. And yet, though Chloe couldn’t put her finger on what it was about him that had changed, something irrefutably had.
Never in her life had anyone looked at her the way he had looked at her yesterday. He’d gazed at her with such—she couldn’t describe it—unbridled hunger in his eyes that it made her shiver merely over the memory.
To her utter dismay, she couldn’t stop thinking about it… the way he’d kissed her, the way he’d held her.
She wondered what he was doing… right now… and then wondered why she was wondering about what he was doing. The entire situation was unthinkable. What was the matter with her that she couldn’t stop thinking about the man? Would she lose her head over any fool who dared steal a kiss from her? And yes, indeed, he had stolen from her yet again.
And yet, it must be true, because Lord Lindale was hardly the sort of man she admired or respected. He was nothing at all like Hawk. Hawk was everything she’d ever desired in a man and more—compassionate, kind, generous, courageous…
The heroic images she conjured in her head at the thought of the Highwayman made her shiver slightly.
They claimed he was tall, nearly six-foot-eight, and that he had once single-handedly offed six men. Chloe wondered if that were true. If it was, she was quite certain he’d had good cause, as he’d yet to harm a hair on the heads of his victims. The men he might leave rankled, but the women were left in a swoon of admiration. Yes, indeed, he was fodder for bed tales, and mothers recanted his stories to children as they closed their eyes each night. And sometimes, come morning, there would appear a brimming basket of goods on their doorstep… and lying beside the anonymous gift was the single, tiny white feather of a hawk. Children strung them and wore them as trophies about their necks.
No one knew precisely what he looked like because he wore that black hooded mask to hide his face. But a prostitute Chloe once treated, who worked at the Pale Ale, had encountered him more than once and she swore she’d spied him bareheaded. She’d said his smile was like a string of shimmering pearls and that his eyes were like gentle blue moons, bright and glowing with kindness.
Chloe sighed softly.
She’d come to fear there were no heroes left in the world. Only Lord Lindales. And she was a silly fool to hope for anything else.
He’d stood her up.
Bloody scoundrel!
What was worse, he’d sent his mother in his stead. Chloe fumed as she descended the stairs and saw Ian wasn’t there. It was just like that cad to do something so vile. Was this how he intended to punish her for yesterday’s insolence?
She took another step downward, trying to mask her flare of temper. As she made her way down, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, denying herself even the smallest sliver of self-pity.
What had she expected?
She was heartily ashamed to admit she had actually been anticipating the evening. What a silly chit she’d been. She was acutely aware that Aggie had gathered all the servants; they were all peeking at her from behind their various hiding places. Even Edward, who was standing at the front door, was present to witness her dashed hopes.
“Before you go on cursing him,” Lady Fiona said, smiling serenely. She put up a hand to silence Chloe when Chloe opened her mouth to deny it. “You must know Ian has quite a design for this evening.”
He did?
Chloe’s eyes must have revealed her doubt.
“It’s true,” Fiona insisted with a smile. “In fact, y
ou should feel quite special, my dear. My son has gone through quite a lot of trouble to impress you.”
Chloe didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t imagine Lord Lindale worrying over impressing anyone. And she had been cursing him, for sure; she felt both duly chastised and a little disarmed by the revelation. She blinked. “Where is he?” Her voice sounded entirely too breathless even to her own ears.
“Never you mind,” Lady Fiona said pleasantly. “You will need a pelisse,” she added matter-of-factly. “I believe it’s quite nippy outdoors.”
Chloe’s heart beat erratically as she continued to descend the staircase. She knew everyone was watching and dearly hoped she wouldn’t trip over her one good dress.
“Come, my dear,” Fiona commanded, wiggling a finger at her when Chloe hesitated.
Chloe’s cheeks warmed under so much scrutiny. She felt a little as though she were on the fringes of a fairy tale as she completed her descent.
At last she stood before Lady Fiona, and with a critical eye, Lady Fiona assessed her gown. It was hardly anything worth fussing over, but Aggie had pressed it just so, and the airy fabric hung like whispers on her slim figure. Delicate ivory lace spilled from her cuffs and peeked out from beneath the airy hem. The blue of the gown was still as vivid today as it had been when new—but of course, it was. It had spent every moment inside a dark closet. Most certainly, it was the finest dress Chloe owned. It was the best she could do, but she had a sudden fear that Lady Fiona would find her lacking.
“Yes, I think this will do quite nicely,” Lady Fiona approved, and she lifted her hand from her lap to reveal a glistening choker. She raised it for Chloe’s inspection. Chloe gasped at the sight of it. It was a dazzling silver, with literally hundreds of tiny, winking diamonds and a few well-placed sapphires. She didn’t know what to say. It was like nothing she had ever seen before—certainly unlike anything she’d ever worn. In fact, she didn’t own a single piece of jewelry, save for the ring her mother gave her.
Lady Fiona held the choker out to her. “Oh!” Chloe said with an embarrassed gasp. “I mustn’t—you shouldn’t!” She shook her head.
“Rubbish!” Lady Fiona said firmly. “It was a gift to me from Ian’s father and I would dearly love to share it with you, my dear. It will match quite nicely with your lovely blue dress.”
Chloe’s heart swelled with gratitude over Fiona’s sweet compliment.
“This was a gift from Lord Lindale’s father?” she asked with awe. How very generous of Lady Fiona to share it, but… good, lord! This was hardly anything she would have anticipated. Chloe hadn’t the first clue what to say in response. Lady Fiona rarely spoke of her late husband. Now, she wanted to know more, though she daren’t pry.
Lady Fiona’s eyes betrayed a shimmer of moisture. “Yes, my dear. He gave it to me the night he asked my father for my hand in marriage.”
Chloe furrowed her brows. She thought Ian’s father was a merchant. How could such a man have possibly afforded such an extravagant gift? Nor had she understood that he’d asked for Lady Fiona’s hand in marriage. Chloe could have sworn her father had said the two eloped.
“You cannot harm it. Go on, take it,” Lady Fiona urged her.
Chloe reached to take it from Lady Fiona’s hands and Aggie came scurrying out from the parlor at once. “I will help!” she said excitedly.
“Oh, thank you, dear,” Fiona said to Aggie, smiling at the young woman. “I’m afraid I cannot manage from this infernal chair.”
“It is… absolutely beautiful,” Chloe said in disbelief, as Aggie lifted it before her, placing it about her throat, “Thank you so much!” She was enormously confused by the recent turn of events. In the space of a single day, nothing seemed at all the same. How could she suddenly feel so thrilled to dine with a man who only yesterday she’d claimed to despise?
What changed?
And when?
“You look radiant,” Fiona said warmly when Aggie stepped away. She glanced at the timepiece that lay in her lap, and exclaimed, “Good grief! It’s five after the hour! You must hie now.”
Chloe blinked. To where?
“Go on now,” Lady Fiona urged, waving a hand toward the door where Edward stood waiting. He turned to retrieve a snow-white pelisse from the coatrack and held it out for her. But the pelisse wasn’t hers, and it was… entirely too… rich.
“Well, go on,” Fiona commanded.
Chloe felt her feet move without direction.
Feeling suddenly surreal, as though everything were all happening in a dream, she allowed Edward to settle the pelisse over her shoulders. Without a word, he opened the front door and Chloe stepped outside to find a coach at the ready. Afraid to turn about for fear that everyone was still staring at her, she hurriedly climbed into the carriage, half expecting to find Ian waiting inside.
He wasn’t there.
The carriage was entirely empty, save for a single red rose that lay upon the facing seat.
Chloe didn’t touch it. She didn’t dare. It didn’t seem remotely possible it could be for her.
Nervously, her fingers sought the choker at her neck. It felt incredibly heavy and wickedly beautiful.
Sweet Lord, she felt beautiful simply wearing it—though merely one of its gems would feed a family for years.
Guilt pricked at her. It was more than she could bear. This was not her life, nor did she wish it to be. So why did it feel so… titillating?
If this was Lindale’s idea of a joke, she would never forgive him. Only remembering the kiss, her hands unconsciously moved to her lips. God have mercy, the mere memory shouldn’t make her belly flutter, but it did.
Would he kiss her again tonight?
No, certainly not. He wouldn’t dare do it again—he’d promised—or had he? She had the sudden overwhelming desire to burst from the carriage and run.
Too late. The vehicle pitched into movement and lumbered down the long drive. For better or worse, Chloe was along for the ride.
Chapter 10
Hoping for some insight into his brother’s mind, Merrick listened quietly while the men bantered amidst themselves. There was an easy camaraderie between them and an optimism that didn’t match their words. They spoke of death and hunger and yet ribbed each other with obvious good humor. One thing became clear: Poor as these men might be, they were contented. Merrick envied their easy attitudes and fellowship. All his life he’d enjoyed neither. He wondered how Ian became involved with them.
“Tell me again why we’re robbin’ your own bloody coach,” one man asked.
“To divert suspicion, ye dolt,” Rusty replied.
However, Merrick hadn’t told Rusty the entire truth. He needed a way to introduce the ring to his mother without casting undue suspicion upon himself. He couldn’t simply hand it to her. He hoped Fiona would feel alarmed by its presence—alarmed enough to reach out to his father. Merrick hoped she would call upon his father, though Ryo would intercept the message, he knew.
In fact, he was counting on it.
For his plan to work, Ryo had to be the one to receive the ring from his mother. As soon as Ryo realized he had the wrong brother, he would return for Merrick. It might be a long shot, but it was the only thing he knew to do without revealing himself.
He also intended to prove to Chloe that Ian’s crusade was not entirely noble, nor was it the only option his brother had available to him.
Lastly, he’d told his mother about meeting Chloe for dinner and he knew she would adorn Chloe appropriately. Whatever booty he acquired tonight, he intended to give to these men and their families. Later, he would see that the value of the item was replaced. In the meantime, these men required food on their tables, and he didn’t know any quicker way to achieve that goal. It was more than apparent he wouldn’t get any funds from Edward—or from his mother, for that matter. Merrick’s pockets were empty, and the clock was ticking. Loudly.
A vision of Rusty’s three little daughters came to mind, dirty faces and shy sm
iles. What must it feel like to be part of a close family, to know your children intimately, to crawl into bed each night and hold your wife close?
He thought of Chloe and his loins tightened.
He couldn’t imagine her retiring to her own chamber night after night… couldn’t imagine her wishing to.
There had been no warmth between his parents. In fact, it seemed more oft than not that neither knew the other even existed. With a sudden sense of conviction, he decided he didn’t want that for himself. He wanted to lay every night near his wife, holding her close, caressing her. And close on the heels of that thought came a stupefying revelation. Two days ago he hadn’t even wanted a wife… now he wanted Chloe. He’d always gotten everything he’d ever desired, but for the first time in his life he didn’t have the influence of his name and his money. So, if he wanted Chloe, he was going to have to win her. Whatever Ian had done previously clearly hadn’t impressed Chloe. She was a strong woman who knew what she believed in and what she believed was that Ian was a cad and a rogue. Instead of swooning over him, she’d tossed down her gauntlet.
Merrick eagerly accepted the challenge.
“We aren’t going to hurt ’er, are we, Hawk?”
They were talking about Chloe—again. Every man present objected when they’d discovered who was to be the occupant of the carriage.
“Of course not,” he reassured them.
“Ye muckspout! That’s why we’ve taken the bullets out of our pistols,” Rusty reminded.
“And she won’t know who we are?”
“Not unless you open your bloody mouth, Angus,” answered Rusty.
Their concerns were beginning to chafe Merrick; it seemed to him that they were all a little too solicitous… almost as though they were all enamored of Chloe.
But he couldn’t blame them.
He’d been enamored with Chloe from the instant he’d set eyes upon her.
“She’s got a guid heart, that one,” commented Angus.
The Impostors: Complete Collection Page 9