by Linda Ladd
"We shall soon see, because I am determined to receive an interview with Anne before the day is out. I will come to you after I have had my audience with her."
She hugged Caitlin for a brief moment.
"I must hurry now, but you must not lose hope. I feel that things will work out if given time."
Caitlin watched her move away, her head set at a most determined angle, one reminiscent of her son at his most stubborn, and suddenly Caitlin felt encouraged. She turned and walked with a lighter step toward her own apartments, her mind busy with thoughts of her husband. She almost did not see the young blond-haired lady standing near a stairway until she stepped out to block Caitlin's path.
The woman was young, perhaps a little older than Caitlin, and very pretty, with dark blue eyes and white blond hair that looked almost silver. It was combed into one of the tall and elaborate coiffures popular in London. She took her time appraising every inch of Caitlin's face and figure, and when she did not speak, Caitlin's own eyes grew as unfriendly as the stranger's.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Caitlin asked, and to her surprise the woman gave a low and mocking laugh.
"I am Lady Cecilia Winslow. Has not your ex-husband thought to speak of me to you?"
Caitlin had already begun to loathe the beautiful woman, and the suggestive way in which she mentioned Trey did not sit well with her.
"We have had better things to talk about, I assure you," Caitlin said coldly, and Cecilia smiled, her eyes frosty.
"I do suppose it would be rather insensitive for Trey to tell you about his lovers. But now that you are no longer his wife, perhaps I will pay him a visit aboard the Glory. I can tell you that his bed is as well known to me as it is to you, if not more so."
Caitlin went rigid with rage, her fingers curling tightly into her palms as Cecilia gave her a contemptuous smile, then glided away, tossing the long silvery curls that lay over one of her shoulders. She forced down the fury that gripped her, stifling the urge to pursue the hateful woman and scratch the superior smirk from her face. She held herself back, imagining with a good deal of enjoyment the pleasure she would have in jerking down the intricately curled silver hair. Some other time, she promised herself, turning away, she would settle her score with the insufferable Lady Winslow.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Trey stood near the windows of his cabin, staring blankly at the myriad of masts spiking the waters of the Thames like a great forest. His fists were clenched hard, his face carved in rock. He forcibly relaxed his stance, taking a deep breath to combat the impotent fury with which he had grappled since the Queen had destroyed his life. He could not bear the thought of Caitlin with another man. She was his wife, damn Durham's eyes! If it were any other than Anne—any man, any army—who held his wife from him, he would have taken up arms and rescued her by force, but it was the Queen of England who had rendered him helpless to interfere, his Queen, whom he had served with loyalty his entire life.
Turbulent emotions swirled through him, and he paced restlessly across the cabin. He stopped, looking at his sisters where they sat on the cushioned settee. They watched him with troubled eyes, and he looked away. Any defiance or action against the Queen would ruin his family, would destroy any chances of suitable marriages for his sisters, would disgrace his mother's name. He shut his eyes tightly, torn by his need to do anything necessary to have Caitlin with him again and the consequences his family would suffer if he went through with such a thing. His position was impossible. His thoughts fled him at the sound of the latch, and he whirled around.
"Did you see the Queen?" he questioned quickly at the sight of his mother, and Beatrice smiled as she pulled off her heavy cloak. She was pleased that she did have some bit of good tidings for her son, though she knew he would still be disappointed.
"Anne has agreed to let you prove yourself worthy again by reinstating your naval commission. She has intimated that there is a specific mission she has in mind, but I do not know the details."
"But what about Caitlin?" Trey interrupted impatiently, and Beatrice shook her head.
"She remains adamant on that point, at least for the moment. But I have reason to believe that if you will bide your time and prove your loyalty, she will change her mind. She has insisted that the girls and I reside at Hampton Court with her, and she has even agreed to allow you to escort us to a ball she plans for Sarah Churchill." Grace and Meghan looked at each other, smiling, but Trey was more concerned about his wife.
"Will I be able to see Caitlin there?"
"Aye, she will be in attendance, but you are not to speak to her or be alone with her."
When Trey's black brows came down angrily, Beatrice added her own bit of advice. "And you will do well to be satisfied with her concessions; at least you will be able to see Caitlin."
Trey shook his head, muttering darkly as he combed restless fingers through his hair. He paced away, and Beatrice looked helplessly at her silent daughters before she tried to calm him with a more cheerful note.
"I saw Caitlin, and although she is most upset and unhappy, she looks forward to seeing you at the ball."
Trey turned back to her. "Is she all right? Where did you see her?"
"She is well." Beatrice hesitated, not sure she should tell him more. She sighed. "She was in the company of Francis Durham when I met with her, but only because the Queen has insisted that they spend time together. Caitlin has no desire to be with him."
Trey's muscles went rigid; even the thought of the wife of a Cameron, his wife, being openly courted by Durham caused his jaw to work with rage. His words were low and controlled.
"What did Anne say about our marriage? Did she give you any hope that Caitlin can return to me?"
Beatrice smiled. "Not in so many words, but Anne appears to be most fond of Caitlin, and I do not think she wishes to make her unhappy. And Caitlin is making no secret of the fact that she is miserable without you. I believe the Queen's ultimate decision will lie with your actions. If you will be patient, I believe she will reverse her decision, but if you do anything foolish, all hope will be lost. If indeed Anne has chosen this separation as a means to punish you, it is a far better fate than the gallows or a filthy cell in Newgate Prison."
Trey did not answer, returning morose eyes to the river as his mother and sisters prepared their baggage for their stay at the palace. He was not at all sure he preferred the separation from Caitlin to the punishment mentioned by his mother. Since Caitlin had been gone, it had felt as if half his heart had been ripped away. But for the time being, he would have to wait for the ball when he could see his wife, and wait for the Queen to forgive him. As much as he hated the idea, he had no other choice.
In the week that followed, Trey grew less sure he could live up to such a decision, especially when his mother and sisters returned daily to the ship with news of Caitlin and Francis Durham. Despite their reassurances that Caitlin hated all that went on, he was tortured night and day by loneliness and frustration and jealous images he could not quell.
The only encouraging development in his hell of waiting and longing had been the handwritten orders Anne sent, ordering the Glory to Holland with a direct communiqué for the Duke of Marlborough. To Trey, this meant she was ready to trust him again, and his heart lightened considerably as he ordered the provisioning of his ship for the voyage. They were due to sail the day after the ball, and when the time finally came to depart for Hampton Court, he was to a turmoil of impatience as he sat across from Richard in the rented hack which would take them to the palace.
Despite the Queen's directives, Trey was not at all sure he could be in the same room with Caitlin and not touch her. A tormented groan fought for freedom as memories of Caitlin lying warm and soft in the circle of his arms, her hair swirling in a satin shimmer over his chest, came forth to haunt him. He mumbled a string of frustrated epithets, bringing Richard's eyes to him.
"A word of caution, cousin, whether you welcome it or not. Do not anger Anne t
onight by attempting to be with Caitlin. You know full well she will not tolerate further disobedience from you."
Trey's answer was long in coming. "I will not sail to Holland without first holding her in my arms. I will find a way, and the consequences be damned."
Richard started to protest, but the hard look in Trey's eyes kept him quiet as they rode the last miles to Hampton Court in silence.
Beatrice Cameron's apartments were in the north wing of the palace, and Frieda opened the portal to the two men. She hurried off to announce their arrival, and Richard lounged down in a deep chair near the fire as Trey strode about the drawing room, repeatedly glancing at the mantel clock. Richard well knew Trey's impatience, and he marveled to himself over Trey's obsession with the very woman he had called a wild hoyden upon their first meeting.
The sound of excited female chatter met their ears, and Grace appeared first, looking quite lovely in a gown of deep rose velvet with rustling underskirts of mauve taffeta. Beatrice followed, retaining her matronly dignity in a wine red dress, her white hair coiffed elegantly atop her head. Meghan's frock was more demure, as befitted her age, a forest green silk with yellow ribbons trimming the wide skirt set with a panel of ruched eyelet lace.
Richard stood and bowed, and Grace smiled shyly as he placed her satin cape about her shoulders. Trey hurried his mother and younger sister out into the corridor, and by the time they grew nearer to the Great Hall where the ball was to be held, Trey's pace had increased to such an extent that Meghan stumbled over her skirts more than once. Beatrice was forced to object.
"Really, Trey, there is no need for this breakneck pace. Caitlin will be in attendance for hours!"
Richard hid his amusement as they reached the tall doors, where soft strains of music drifted from the cavernous recesses of the ballroom. They entered, both girls gasping with pleasure at the sheer beauty before them. The room was adorned for the festive occasion, its glorious ceiling rich with gilt cherubs and lush ornamentation. Hundreds of people mingled beneath arched stained-glass windows, while thousands of tall white tapers bathed the room in a soft glow.
The white fire of priceless diamonds and the red flash of rubies adorned the creamy bare throats of the ladies who swept about the marble floor, their jewel-encrusted fans held in soft white hands. The gentlemen and courtiers who acted as their escorts were not to be outdone, their gala attire of velvet frockcoats and lace-edged cravats sometimes overshadowing even the ladies' splendor.
Although Meghan and Grace stared in open awe at those around them, Trey searched for one face alone. He quickly found that the Royal box was not yet occupied, and he endured polite conversation with old friends for what seemed an interminable time before the silvery trill of trumpets and ringing of bells announced the entrance of the Queen and the Royal party. Trey forgot all else then, his eyes riveted on the door near the draped dais.
Anne stepped into sight first, gowned in deep purple and gold, her hand resting on the arm of her beloved husband, George. They were followed closely by Sarah Churchill and several other favored ladies of the Court. Caitlin came last, and as she appeared, Trey stared at her, a bittersweet pain rising to close his throat.
Caitlin looked like fire and gold as she moved, the dark gold velvet of her gown exposing softly tanned shoulders that Trey knew would tremble beneath his lips. Silken threads glinted in the lengths of her skirts as similar strands of bright gold shone from the softly curling coppery tresses that lay unbound over Caitlin's shoulders. When her exquisite golden eyes found him, the look they shared held such intense, intimate longing that Trey took an involuntary step in her direction, stopping only when Richard's hand detained him.
Caitlin's heartbeat accelerated wildly as Trey's pure blue eyes held her entranced, and only when she realized that the Queen's eyes were upon her, did she move reluctantly to her chair on the dais. As she sat, her eyes returned to her husband's handsome face. She shivered, thinking he looked magnificent. His broad shoulders appeared immense in the black silk coat he wore, while his waistcoat and trousers were a spotless white contrast to his bronzed skin. His azure eyes, as beloved as the warm seas of the Indies, seemed to embrace her and she could not look away, her heart tortured by her desire to run to him, to have his strong arms around her.
The Queen gestured for the musicians to begin the first dance; almost at once, Francis Durham appeared before Caitlin, bowing low as he invited her to join him on the dance floor. She looked again at Trey, where he stood with his family, thinking that she might have an opportunity to be nearer to him if she accompanied Francis to the dance floor. With renewed hope, she put her small hand into Francis's outstretched one.
Trey tensed at the sight of the other man leading his wife forward, gritting his teeth as they began to dance.
"Come, my son, I believe we should take our place close beside Caitlin and her partner. I daresay our presence so near will make young Durham most uncomfortable."
Trey had to smile as he led his mother forward and was further encouraged as the Queen smiled most warmly at his mother, then inclined her head slightly in his direction. Her eyes were not friendly, but neither did they hold the cold anger of their last meeting.
Caitlin mechanically performed the steps of the galliard opposite her attentive partner, but her eyes did not leave the tall man and elegant woman who were adroitly maneuvering themselves ever closer to her position. She smiled eagerly at Trey as they came up beside her, quivering all over as Trey's blue eyes hungrily devoured every inch of her face. Francis felt a different pair of blue eyes scorch his countenance as Beatrice's look settled firmly on him with blatant dislike.
Trey's hands shook with the desire to touch her as she moved so close that he could smell the sweet lavender of her perfume wafting from her hair. His eyes caressed the satin-soft skin of her shoulders with all the passion his fingers could not, and Caitlin's body turned alternately hot, then cold, her lips parted with rapid, shallow breathing. Trey fought a losing battle of self-control as the music came to an end. He stepped between Caitlin and Francis, effectively blocking any contact between them, and after a quick glance to find the Queen watching them, Beatrice moved hastily forward before Caitlin had the opportunity to dissolve into Trey's arms.
"Lord Durham," Beatrice said, putting her arm around Caitlin's slender waist and drawing her away from her son's starving eyes, "you have not yet met my daughters. I am sure they would be interested in seeing you for themselves. Come, Caitlin, dear."
Francis watched them move away, leaving him in the awkward position of being alone with Trey Cameron. He looked up at his rival for Caitlin's affections and found the hard blue eyes fastened on him held such a dangerous look that he swallowed hard and quickly followed the ladies. Beatrice turned as he approached her family circle.
"Meghan, Grace, this is Francis Durham. He is the man who is ruining your brother's life and making Caitlin so dreadfully unhappy." Her words were uttered pleasantly, making them all the more effective, and Francis's face burned with embarrassment as he bowed stiffly at the two girls with her.
Meghan glared at him out of blue eyes glittering with contempt, but somehow Francis felt even worse under the scrutiny of Grace's soft brown eyes as she looked at him with a curious mixture of accusation and sympathy.
Caitlin was unaware of Francis's discomfort as Trey looked down at her and smiled, and Richard took one look at them, then clapped Francis on the back, turning him until he faced away from the couple.
"And how are things down in Bridgetown, Francis, my friend?" he began, making sure their position blocked the Queen's view of Trey and his wife.
Beatrice divined her nephew's intent and took the flushed young man's other arm in a grip quite firm for a lady of her years.
"Yes, Lord Durham, and you must tell me about my old friend, Sir Henry McSpadden. Is he well?"
Trey took advantage of their efforts to divert Francis's attention, clasping Caitlin's hand and pressing it eagerly to his lips.
<
br /> "Trey, Trey . . ." Caitlin murmured, but Trey knew they had only a moment, and his whisper was urgent.
"You must find a way to leave here, my love. I must see you alone, at your apartments."
He released her fingers as Francis disentangled himself from Trey's clinging allies, stiffly claiming Caitlin again while Trey fought his desire to knock Francis to the ground.
Caitlin allowed him to lead her away from her love, fearful that Anne had seen their whispered exchange, but she breathed easier to find the Queen looking elsewhere. A great excitement spread through her in a rosy glow, as she thought of the moment when she could be alone with her husband. She took her chair, unaware that Francis sat beside her, her eyes on Trey as he escorted Grace to the marble floor. Trey smiled at her, and Caitlin's heart warmed with love.
"Do you care so much for him?"
Francis's sudden question caught Caitlin off guard, but she did not hesitate to answer.
"I love him more than I can ever tell you, and I will always consider him my true husband."
Francis glanced back across the room to find Trey Cameron's eyes on him. In that moment, each envied the other, one for having possession of Caitlin's heart, the other for having the opportunity to enjoy her company at will.
As the night progressed with dancing and merriment, Caitlin waited with frayed nerves until she could make her escape. She tried to contain her excitement, but the thought that Trey might intend to take her away with him overjoyed her. When she saw Trey slip away from the gathering, she could hardly resist her impulse to follow at a run, but she waited until the Queen was engrossed in a conversation with the Duchess, then spoke to Francis, who had lapsed into a depressed silence at her side.
"I am not feeling well," she murmured, rising. "I fear I must return to my apartments."
"I will see you there," Francis said at once, concerned by her flushed face, and Caitlin hid her dismay at his offer.
"Do not trouble yourself, Francis. It is not far."