"I'll meet you outside the house whenever you say," she said.
"You'll be able to escape your chaperone's eye?" Frank asked.
"Very easily," Chloe assured him.
"But what of your guardian?" Denis watched her through hooded eyes as he waited for her response.
Chloe glanced across the room to where Hugo was dancing with Miss Anselm, both of them clearly more interested in their conversation than in the waltz. They were laughing, and he seemed to Chloe to be holding his partner unnecessarily close. He had never danced the waltz with his ward.
"There won't be a problem," she said with cheerful insouciance. In fact, she had no intention of keeping this adventure from Hugo. He expected her to amuse herself with her own circle, and she would do so. And she would show him that other things could provide as much entertainment as lovemaking… that one could become bored doing the same thing every night and she was no more dependent upon him than he was upon her.
"We'll be waiting for you at two o'clock, then," Denis said. "And I'll deliver the clothes in the morning. Shall you mind if they're not very elegant?" He regarded her with a half-smile that managed to convey a degree of intimacy. "The thing is, you are rather small and I don't think anything of mine would fit. But I could borrow a suit of my brother's."
"How old is your brother?" Chloe demanded, not a whit struck by any possibly indecorous slant to the conversation.
"Eleven," Denis said with a disarming grin. "And he's almost exactly your size."
Chloe laughed and lightly brushed his hand with her own. In swift response he took her hand and raised it to his lips, saying daringly, "I can't wait to see you in such a costume, Chloe."
"That," Chloe declared with mock disapproval, "is a most improper thing to say, Denis."
"But then, you are proposing a most improper excursion," he said solemnly.
"It was your proposal, may I remind you," she bantered.
"But I didn't notice any hesitation on your part." His eyes laughed at her and her own responded. He still held her hand and she made no move to take it away.
Denis DeLacy seemed to have taken the honors for the evening yet again, her other two suitors reflected disconsolately, each of them wishing such a daring proposal had occurred to them.
Hugo wondered if he was imagining an air of suppressed excitement in his ward when he escorted her home. She seemed preoccupied and responded to his various attempts at conversation distractedly, but the sparkle in her eyes had a distinctly mischievous glimmer to it.
He decided to postpone questions until later, when she came to him in the privacy of his bed. However, as soon as they reached home, she said she had to look in on Peg and the baby and flew upstairs with a cheerful good night.
Frowning, he went to the kitchen for his customary nighttime conversation with Samuel.
"How's Peg?"
"Wants nuthin' to do with the babe," Samuel said, pouring tea. "Doesn't seem t' know what to do wi' it. Didn't even want to put it to the breast… and the poor mite wailin' fit to burst."
"Seems quiet enough now." Hugo sipped tea.
"Mrs. 'Erridge wasn't standin' for no nonsense." Samuel stretched his legs to the fire's blaze. "An' Peg's too weak to fight 'er at the moment."
"I expect Chloe will sort it out," Hugo said with conviction, and soon after took himself to bed, where he waited in vain for the usual visitation.
He fell asleep eventually, trying to persuade himself that he should be pleased that his efforts to lessen the intensity of their liaison seemed to be having the desired result. But he felt bereft nevertheless and wondered how long it would be before the sense of loss diminished.
Chloe huddled alone in her bed, taking what comfort she could from Dante's weight on her feet. She wondered miserably if Hugo had even noticed that she hadn't come to him. He was probably dreaming sweetly of making love to Miss Anselm… or Judith Devlin.
But if her plan for tomorrow night worked out as planned, she'd be the only person on his mind, and present denial would surely make the reunion all the more glorious.
Denis himself delivered the promised parcel of clothes the next morning. Chloe, who had discovered somewhat to her chagrin that Peg responded better to Mrs. Herridge's brusque instructions over care of the baby than she did to Chloe's gentler, more understanding approach, greeted him eagerly and with even more warmth than usual.
"Did you bring them?"
"Yes. Would you like to see?" He handed her the parcel.
"I'd better not open it here," she said, glancing over her shoulder to the open library door. "Samuel has a way of popping up when least expected." She chuckled. "Of course we'd hear Lady Smallwood a mile away. But that's unkind of me. May I offer you a glass of sherry?"
"Thank you. Where's Sir Hugo?"
"I don't know," she said truthfully. Hugo had already left the house when she'd come down to breakfast and Samuel had said only that he'd had some commissions to execute.
Denis sipped his wine and contemplated his next move. Was it too soon to make any overt declaration?
"The ribbons of your gown are exactly the color of your eyes," he said, smiling. "How clever of you to choose them."
"Oh, I didn't," Chloe responded with a small moue of annoyance. "Sir Hugo and Lady Smallwood make all the decisions about my wardrobe. I consider it thoroughly interfering of them. However.."
Her eyes danced. "Neither of them would choose what's in the parcel, which will make it all the more amusing to dress in such fashion. It was a brilliant idea, Denis."
He bowed modestly. "I own I can't wait to see you in britches, Chloe."
Chloe felt suddenly uncomfortable. He'd said something similar last night, but it had sounded different then, more jesting. The tone and the words this morning felt like the kind of thing she could imagine a man saying to a lightskirt… a bit of muslin, she thought they were called. And there was something faintly predatory about his eyes that made her uneasy.
Denis recognized his mistake immediately. It was appropriate to crypt games, and Jasper had warned him that he must be subtle. The time for unsubtlety would come soon enough, when he'd receive his reward. "Forgive me," he said, extending his hand. "What a shockingly improper thing to say, Chloe… but I do find you most… well… I don't know how to say it. But you're not like other girls… you're so much easier to talk to."
"Let's talk of something else," she said, accepting his hand and the apology with relief.
He was regaling her with a wicked on-dit that amused her mightily, when Hugo entered the library. He was in riding dress, his top boots dusty, and a wash of unfocused irritation flooded him as he saw who was causing Chloe's laughter to fill the library.
"Oh, Hugo, Denis has been telling me the most scandalous story about Margery Featherstone," she said, turning her laughing countenance toward him, for a moment forgetting their estrangement. "Apparently, she-"
"I believe I've heard it," Hugo broke in, going to the sideboard. "DeLacy, may I refill your glass?" He offered the decanter.
There was a coolness to his voice that while far from impolite was also far from encouraging. The younger man declined the offer and took his leave within a few minutes. Chloe gave him her hand again, a gesture not lost on Hugo any more than he missed the impishly conspiratorial glance she accorded her guest as she bade him farewell.
The little fox was up to her tricks again, he thought uneasily. Why the hell did she have to play them with Brian DeLacy's son?
"What are you up to, lass?" he demanded without preamble.
"Nothing," Chloe denied, careful to avoid looking toward the parcel of clothes in the corner of the sofa. "Why were you so unfriendly to Denis?"