"Was I?" He shrugged. "I didn't intend to be. But neither do I consider it right for you to be entertaining a young man alone."
"Oh, stuff! The door was open," she said. "There was nothing improper about it. We were in full view of anyone crossing the hall. Anyway," she added with a hint of truculence, "how am I to find a husband if I never have the chance to engage in private conversation with likely prospects?"
Hugo hid his dismay. Was Chloe that drawn to young DeLacy? "Far be it from me to impede such a worthy aim, lass," he said amiably. "I hadn't realized your partiality for DeLacy was quite that serious."
"I find him more intelligent than most," she declared.
"Ah, but will he be sufficiently complaisant?" Hugo inquired, perching on the corner of the big desk, swinging one booted foot as he examined his ward with an amused eye that disguised his uneasy speculations.
"He'll have to be," Chloe said smartly. "Since I have no intention of marrying anyone who won't permit me to have control over my fortune."
"Then I suspect, my dear girl, that you'll have to settle for a stupid husband," Hugo said. "Because I don't see an intelligent man willingly accepting the role of hagridden husband."
"But I would not hag-ride… or whatever the word is," Chloe protested indignantly. "That's most unjust, Hugo. When have I ever hag-ridden you?"
"Never… and don't expect to," he said, and changed the subject. "How's the mother?"
"Mrs. Herridge manages her better than I do," Chloe said. "I don't seem to speak the right language."
"That's hardly surprising," he said gently.
"No, I suppose not." She shrugged. "So long as someone can persuade her to feed the babe, then it doesn't matter."
Casually, she wandered over to the sofa and sat down in the corner, hiding the parcel as she wondered how to remove it from the library under Hugo's eye? She couldn't leave it there alone with him either, he would be bound to notice it.
"I think I'll stay at home tonight," she said, pleating the lace of her sleeve. "Lady Smallwood will be glad of the company."
"I'm sure she will," he agreed, smiling. "Making amends, lass?"
It was as good an excuse as any. She raised her eyes and returned his smile slightly consciously. "I thought perhaps I should."
"I applaud the self-sacrifice," he said. "Would you like me to make a third?"
"No." Chloe shook her head. "I am determined to do penance and will play backgammon all evening. Besides, Mrs. Herridge needs some time to herself and I can hold the fort for the evening. You're very dusty… shouldn't you change your boots before nuncheon?"
"Should I?" Hugo regarded his boots with a quizzical frown. "I've not come across a household where riding clothes were forbidden at any table but the dinner table. Do I offend you, my ward?"
"Not exactly," she said. "But judging from the rather pungent odor in the room, I suspect you have more than dust on your boots."
"I don't smell anything. However…" He left his perch on the desk. "I'd hate to offend that pretty little nose." He pinched it lightly as he passed… a carelessly affectionate guardian's gesture with no hint of a lover's fierce desire.
Chapter 22
The clothes did not make her look like a boy, Chloe decided, examining herself in the mirror late that night. Nankeen trousers buttoned onto a white lawn shirt with a frilled collar. A short fitted jacket with a double row of buttons marching from the shoulder to the waist went over the shirt. Denis had even provided white stockings and a pair of flat black shoes. The shoes needed to be stuffed with paper in the toes, but apart from that ever/thing fitted very well… or at least, it seemed to. But something wasn't quite as it should be.
She frowned, turning this way and that in front of the mirror in the quiet house. Dante lay watching her through one eye while Falstaff cackled softly on his perch. The fitted jacket seemed to accentuate the swell of her breasts rather than disguise them, and her hips and backside in the trousers were much more noticeable than in skirts.
In fact, she decided, the whole effect was grossly improper. Lady Smallwood would probably fall into a dead faint from which she'd never recover, and Hugo… well, she'd discover Hugo's reaction soon enough She crammed the black velvet cap on her head, pulling the brim down over her forehead. It didn't seem to make much difference to the overall impression.
The clock on the mantelpiece struck two, and she went to the door, opening it quietly. Dante whined but was now accustomed to being left behind for long periods of the night and merely sighed and curled up into a tight ball when she slipped out into the dark corridor.
Hugo was still out and Samuel would be waiting up for him in the kitchen as usual. So long as Hugo didn't return in the next five minutes, the plan would work. She sped down the stairs, across the hall, and pushed through the swing door into the kitchen.
"Samuel, I'm going out with some friends," she said cheerfully. "Tell Hugo not to worry."
"Wh-wh-what the 'ell…?" Samuel woke from his doze with a start and blinked at the apparition half in and half out of the doorway. "What's that you say?"
"I'm going out," she said. "Tell Hugo I'll be back in a couple of hours. If you don't lock the front door, I won't wake anyone."
Before Samuel could get the blood moving sufficiently to bring him to his feet, she had gone. It took a minute for that unbelievable image to reform in his mind's eye, and when it did, he swore vigorously and ran out of the kitchen. The front door was closed but not locked. He hauled it open and was in time to see Chloe, in her outrageous costume, climbing into a hackney carriage with the help of a young man.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Samuel muttered, closing the door again. The fat was going to be in the fire over this one. He returned to the kitchen, scratching his head, in no doubt that Chloe had her reasons for this madcap flight.
He put the kettle on the range and was making tea when he heard Hugo's step in the hall. "Still awake, Samuel?" Hugo came in. "There's no need to wait up for me, you know."
"I know, but I choose to," Samuel said. "But I'll leave you to wait up for the lass." He put a mug on the table. "There's your tea."
"Wait up for her?" Hugo inquired, alarm bells ringing in his head.
"She's up and gone out," Samuel said, returning to his seat by the fire. "About 'alf an hour ago, cool as you please she comes in 'ere an' says, 'Samuel, I'm goin' out. Tell 'Ugo I'll be back in a couple of hours… don't lock the door,' she says, so she won't wake anyone."
"Gone where, for God's sake? It's two-thirty in the morning!"
"I dunno… and dressed like she was I wouldn't want to guess." He gulped his tea and compressed his lips.
Hugo groaned. "Spit it out, Samuel. I can't bear the suspense."
"Dressed like a lad, she was… although she didn't look like no lad… bumps in all the wrong places," he added.
"What?"
"You 'eard. Got into a 'ackney with some of those lads that're always 'angin' around 'er."
"I knew she was up to something," Hugo muttered. "For some reason, I have signally failed to get her attention over this hoydenish behavior. It's high time I did, it seems to me."
"I must say, Chloe, those clothes don't seem to make you look like a boy at all," Julian said with a hiccup, his slightly glazed eyes staring at the slim figure on the seat opposite him. He grabbed the strap as the hackney swung around a corner, iron wheels rattling over the cobbles.
"I know they don't," Chloe said. "Are you all foxed?"