by Robyn Carr
“Aye, that’s done. She’ll act as go-between and hire couriers when it’s necessary. How long will you be gone?”
“I have no idea,” he said wearily. “This first turn against the devil should be the easiest one, but I’ll accept your good wishes just the same.”
“Go with God. I’ll be waiting to hear.”
“Chad, go to your countess. I think she’s needing some comfort. She was really in trouble.”
“Aye, and not the first. I’m of the mind she needs her skirts thrown up and her backside warmed. The little minx. God, but she’s a package of mischief.”
“Your burdens are many, my lord,” John laughed.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Chad muttered as he started away.
“Guard your back,” John called after him. “And remember, Your Lordship. There’s no enemy more difficult to best than one so eager to submit.”
Chad walked the distance to his wife’s rooms. He opened the door without knocking and entered. There she sat, immersed to the shoulders in her tub, her women fluttering around the room.
Chelynne threw a look over her shoulder to take note of his entry and then, totally disregarding him, went back to her washing. She hoped she looked angry. She didn’t have to be very well known to him for that much to be obvious. She refused the slightest embarrassment at being put-upon during her bath and there was certainly no light greeting for her husband.
Chad smiled lazily and went to sit on the stool by the tub. “Good morning, madam,” he greeted her, splashing his fingers lightly in the water. “Did you sleep well?”
Hesitantly she looked at him. Smiling. That damned lopsided smile he used when he wished to intimidate her. “As well as you did, my lord.”
He gestured to Stella and waved her away with his hand. She hesitated, flushed, and under his determined stare, left the room. Tanya simply turned white and fled, still unable to give the slightest consideration to what intimacies might exist between man and wife.
Chad turned his attention back to Chelynne, and saw agitation showing vividly on her little face. “So, we have a guest.”
“We do. Have you seen him?”
“I have.”
It was bound for a staring contest, neither giving in to the other. He was chafed by her courage and she was more than irritated by his nonchalance. Finally she took up her cloth to lather. “Well, I do hope you’ve extended your gratitude. He did me a gallant service.”
“He dragged you out of the hands of thieves, I’m told. In the middle of the night on
Prior Street
.”
“It seems you have the story, my lord.”
Chad ground his teeth. “Would you mind telling me what the hell you were doing there?”
She looked up at him with open defiance in her eyes. “Have we reached a point in our marriage where we exchange secrets, my lord?”
“Chelynne, I’ve no desire to go around with you. Now what were you doing at the Gold Frog?”
She pursed her lips. “Why, it was business, my lord.”
“Business of what nature?”
She laughed insolently. “Oh, just small matters that trouble me. I’m afraid I must see them done before I can go about the business of enjoying my family.” She dipped low into the water to rinse her shoulders. She looked up at him innocently, noticing his anger was steadily building. She smiled sweetly. “Would you hand me my towel, my lord?”
Chad kept his seat, determined to browbeat her with that icy stare. She simply rose from the tub. “Very well, I’ll get it myself.”
Chad’s eyes widened in surprise. There she stood, not a foot from him, naked and in spellbinding beauty. Her ivory skin glistened with the moisture and her stance was relaxed. His eyes roved over the whole of her, over a shapely breast, down the smooth flat belly, his gaze gently caressing a delicately shaped thigh. She stepped from the tub and pulled her towel around her, shielding her nakedness from any further scrutiny. She seemed perfectly confident but the display was a rather shattering experience for both of them.
He cleared his throat. “I am responsible for you, madam. You are making matters most difficult for me with your reckless behavior. I don’t want to have to suffer any more discomfort from your antics. Is that clearly understood?”
A soft ripple of laughter came from behind him. He turned to see one shapely leg outstretched from the slit in her dressing gown as she pulled on her stocking. She tied the garter, crossed her legs, and leaned back on the bed. “Discomfort? Why, my lord, I am scarcely worth your discomfort. There is no duel for my honor and you have not been chastised for your lack of escort. Indeed, I carefully considered all your warnings and have violated nothing.”
“Chelynne, you’re pushing me—”
“Why, were you worried for my welfare, perhaps?” she asked with mocking smile and teasing tone.
“You could have been killed!” he boomed.
Her smile faded and she took on a serious expression. “But as you can see,” she said very softly, “I am quite well.”
“Madam, you must use better sense than you have. Was it simple curiosity that took you to the Gold Frog? What were your intentions?”
With honest dignity she spoke, not flinching or trembling at all. “I was curious, my lord. I was interested in your meeting. That is truly what it was.”
“It was business and I was gone by the time you had arrived. Now, are your curiosities stilled?”
She laughed a little and replied, “Oh yes, my lord. As much as they can be.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“I know you were with a woman, Chadwick. I waited for you after our guest was cared for and sleeping. I waited the night through in your room. Whatever business you had took a very long night. You are only now returning from it.”
“And so you have decided my circumstance.”
“Oh, why do you pretend with me? Why don’t you just tell me truly that you cannot be bothered with me? If you have another preference, why not just free yourself now and spare us both any more trouble?”
“Do you wish to leave?”
“I wish to know what part I am to play in your life! Am I to go on like this, acting out the part of a proper wife...void of escort? Am I to sit in blessed eternal exile while you amuse yourself with your whore? Well, my lord, what?”
“I have business, madam. When that business is stable, I can give consideration to coddling your whims. As to now, just keep yourself out of trouble or I shall be forced to take action.”
She flounced back down on the bed and took up her other stocking, drawing it on with haste, jerking and tugging at it. “Good,” she returned saucily. “I’m most eager to see you in action.”
“You pestilent little wench,” he said with a laugh. “You’re mighty full of yourself this morning. You lead me to think I should keep you under lock and key to save London from your antics.”
She tied the garter with a jerk, muttering, “Oh, go to hell.” Her head snapped up in surprise at her own wicked tongue and she stole a hasty look at Chad only to see him striding toward her with quick, even steps. He reached for her and she gave a gasp, trying to skitter away from him. His size, speed and strength were no match for hers. She was lifted off her feet and found herself lying across his lap. Her dressing gown was yanked up and her little rump bared. “No, no, I’m sorry! No, please!”
It was not heard. What was heard was the loud resounding thwack that came from his hand making contact with her flesh. She shrieked in pain. “If I have to beat the part of countess into you, you will learn,” he cried. Another loud smack and shriek sounded. “If you can’t use sense above a child’s, then you shall be treated like a child!” Another loud smack and shrill cry. He stopped momentarily and listened to her panting apologies and smiled. He released her, and she stumbled to her feet and hurried across the room.
From the opposite wall she faced him, a look of surprised anger on her face as she rubbed the feel
ing back into her abused posterior. “I warn you, my lord. My endurance has a limit and that limit draws near. I will not be used at this rate!”
“Very well, madam. I have no use for a woman without endurance and for a weak-willed one even less. Good day.”
He turned and left the room. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it, paused, and reflected with a smile. Then a crashing of glass against that portal startled him out of his complacency. But still he smiled broadly, shaking his head with amusement. Soft, low laughter came from somewhere down the long dark hall. Chad heard a couple of steps and then the hidden man came into sight. John Bollering smiled.
“I had no idea you were serious,” he teased.
Chad raised a hand and studied it. It was red and still throbbed from the blistering spanking he had just delivered. “I wasn’t.”
“It’s a piece of business should’ve been done last night.”
Another screech and the crashing of glass rended the silence. Both men shook with silent laughter. What hellfire she was.
“The countess is not happy,” John whispered.
“Nor am I,” Chad returned. He listened as the temper tantrum melted into sobs within his wife’s bedroom. “But I feel a damn sight better than I did.” He shook his head wearily. “I’ve come to think it’s easier to break a horse than temper such a spitfire.”
“Indeed?” John asked. “If you’re thinking to try to break her, you’re a bigger fool than I took you for.”
CHAPTER TEN
Filth in London was as constant as nature. The heavy rains that came in the late of the year ran with muck and slime into the gutters and streets, producing a stench that was almost more than the nose could bear. Those who were forced out pressed pomanders close to their faces to protect their senses from the insult. Those same ones emptied their slops from second-story windows with the rest of London.
There was one man in the city who walked briskly every day regardless of weather or smell. Charles Stuart was a man of great energy, thriving on little sleep, great amounts of exercise, and more ribald diversion than most human bodies could bear. Whether his fast pace was a necessity in avoiding petitioners, fleeing the nauseous odors or making haste to an appointment was always a mystery, but his courtiers hurried along to keep up while silently cursing their sovereign’s enthusiastic gait.
King Charles had ruled for eleven years. He had long ago come to the conclusion that it was not a divine right, but the right of whoever would take it. He was not a born skeptic, though it was often said that even as an infant his brow had wrinkled into that same cynical and skeptical frown. He had seen his country seized and his father murdered, forcing him into exile at an early age. For eleven years he warred, negotiated, plotted and schemed to regain his kingdom. With the death of Cromwell, Charles victoriously reentered London to be greeted by multitudes of joyous subjects. They were wild with pleasure, for the return of their sovereign had rescued them from the harsh and swift disciplinary hand of the Lord Protector.
Charles was moved by their enthusiasm, but not fooled. He observed their displays and heard the shouts celebrating his return and bore it all gracefully. When it was done and he was allowed to relax and unwind, a brooding cynicism settled over him.
It would have pleased Charles to see England flourish, his people thriving and happy. Instead he saw a great many unpleasant things. Since his restoration a plague had killed hundreds of thousands in the city. The Great Fire had swept through miles of London, and though it killed off the plague, so it killed off people and destroyed homes and public places. His country warred against the Dutch, and while victorious, lost a fortune in ships and arms; many of the sailors starved because they could not be paid. There was no child he could name as heir and England would likely go to York, a weak-willed Catholic.
The people of England, in their tradition, grumbled loudly about their king. Charles was not perturbed. It would be thus until the end of time. Until they had a king who could make every peasant wealthy, every disease curable and every mishap easily remedied, the people would complain. It was the favorite English sport.
Charles had no illusions about himself. He was a man first and then a king. He knew that to do all that was humanly possible for his country and himself would never satisfy the multitudes; therefore, he never brought to bed the nagging feeling that he was solely responsible for every unhappiness around him. There were plenty of others willing to believe that.
He was a man of sound reason and a great deal of tolerance. He wished only that everyone would do as it suited him best while taking care not to injure his fellow. That was the standard by which he lived. Eleven years had not changed him much. He was still the same man with the same values.
Charles was one of the greatest lovers of his time and he knew it well. He loved the romantic game, the great chase, and pursued it at his will. He was chivalrous and suave. He had a great deal of respect for the institution of marriage insofar as it seldom hampered his pursuit of a woman. He hadn’t been allowed the privilege of marrying for love; he had had to marry for an entire empire. It would have pleased him to have found a sensual woman for a wife, one who bore him children and met his sexual and emotional needs, but he was not so fortunate as that.
The princess he made his queen was prudish and barren. He never blamed Catherine, for she had endured years of religious lies that had molded her into the modest and subdued woman she was. That she was barren was another misfortune that plagued her painfully and was not her fault. He could have been relieved of this albatross of a queen and many encouraged him to be so, but he was not so heartless as that. He decided to live with this unhappy circumstance as best he could, as he lived with other things he did not like. But he sought pleasures elsewhere.
There came a bonus in living in such a manner that Charles did not cherish. His mode set the standard for the court and he had no wish to either change his habits or be a moral exemplar for others. He had learned the pleasure of loving at an early age and could never think of a very good reason for giving it up. He watched as the years rolled by, his court becoming more degenerate and perverse while it pursued the pleasures of the flesh to an insulting degree. He was totally aware of it and opted to go on, living in the manner that suited him best and letting other fools kill themselves trying to keep up with him. He would not blame himself. He never forced a noble into bed with a whore and never conspired in a plot from under the skirts of a grande dame. Whether he had been born to a crown or a piece of land to till, he would have had a drive within him that could not be ignored. He would always fill his leisure hours in the arms of a loving woman. If the punishment for fornicating had been death, he would likely have met his death before he started to shave his face.
Whitehall was a den of iniquity. There were a lot of bored people in the cold of winter, with little diversion outside their walls and every conceivable type of indoor entertainment already tried. The faces had started to blend together and looked remarkably the same. When the earl of Bryant brought his lovely young wife to court everyone noticed, especially the men. Charles Stuart was no less a man in this respect than any other.
King Charles immediately counted her among the most beautiful women he had ever seen. There were a great many in that number, but that did not lessen her desirability one bit. Her petite beauty and large, soft brown eyes held a sensual quality that radiated from her. On her third visit to Whitehall Charles defied custom and asked her to dance. The sharp piercing stares from the women and the concealed chuckles from the men, coupled with the lack of concern from the earl of Bryant, indicated that everyone present thought he had chosen yet another mistress. They troubled themselves silly again as the king practically ignored her presence on her next half-dozen appearances at court. The truth was that when Charles danced with the little countess she had trembled and stammered so, he decided to give her some time to acclimate herself to the court before forcing his presence again. She was immature and a little shy. There wa
s not a more patient man on earth than Charles Stuart—nor a more selfish.
Tonight, in the queen’s drawing rooms, he watched her again, and again from a safe distance. She was greeted now with more familiarity, the men beating their way to her with great expectations and the women retreating. The earl did not hover over his young wife, but the anxious glances he threw in her direction were not lost on Charles. That was another reason for his distance. The fact that he liked Hawthorne was not so important as the fact that he detested a fuss, especially over a woman. If Bryant had a possessive nature where his wife was concerned, Charles would retreat.
He made his way to Bryant and struck up idle conversation.
“It seems the lady is much in demand here,” Charles said, gesturing toward Chelynne.
“It seems, sire.”
“She’s lovely, Bryant. Your good fortune with women never ceases to amaze me.”
Chad eyed his king suspiciously. The mischief in Charles’s eyes told of the train of thought. Charles would consider Chad a lucky man, loving romance as he did. Chad had successfully eluded attachments for many years and his accumulating wealth and prospective inheritance had made him a much sought after catch. Now, though no longer in good prospect for matrimony, he had one of the most beautiful women in England for his bride.
“The countess seems well acquainted with the baroness,” Charles observed.
Chad looked to where Chelynne stood chatting with Lady Stelanthope. “It seems my wife spent many years abroad and in the homes of Lord Mondeloy’s acquaintances for her education. Lord Stelanthope and the baroness are old friends she visited several times. The countess was orphaned at a very early age.”
“Then they would seem like family to her. She has precious little of that, I imagine. Have you introduced her to your other friends?”
“I hadn’t found the need, sire.”
“Bringing her in here like this, my lord, is much like cornering a fox in the hunt, wouldn’t you say?”
Chad raised his brows suddenly. “There seems to be plenty of space, should the fox decide to run.”