by Robyn Carr
“And if she doesn’t run?” Charles asked, looking all the while at Chelynne and not Chad.
“Then as in the hunt, sire. Not much pleasure comes from trapping lame prey. Would you have me lock her up?”
“Ods fish, and deprive us all?” he laughed. “You’re not so heartless as that, are you, my lord?”
Chad bowed. “Indeed no, Your Majesty.”
“But neither are you foolish, Bryant. If she is anything to you, you don’t show it.”
“I have never been much for show, sire. Not even in that,” he returned, indicating the little countess with his eyes.
The conversation could have gone on and on, each trying to guess the other’s thoughts, but Charles was beckoned by some gentlemen. Chad took the subtle hint and sought out his wife, still talking to Lady Stelanthope.
“I’m glad you’ve come about, my lord,” Chelynne greeted him brightly. “Have you made the acquaintance of my lady Stelanthope?”
“I’ve had that pleasure,” Chad returned suavely, bowing over the woman’s hand. Lady Stelanthope curtsied and her eyes warmed with admiration.
“Chelynne has been special to me for a long time, my lord,” the good lady said softly. “It pleases me greatly to see her married so well and to a man I’ve personally admired.”
“You’re too kind, madam.”
“I had no idea,” Chelynne said with delight. “How long have you known each other?” she asked Chad.
“Longer than either of us cares to admit,” he said lightly.
“Then our paths might have crossed even before...?” She stopped herself and tried to wiggle out of that slip. “I did spend a good many summers with Lady Stelanthope. I fear I was much her cross to bear. My uncle thought to have me schooled in the graces, but...” Her eyes grew warm with fondness. “I fear my lady Stelanthope was schooled in tolerance. Those days must have been a trial to you.”
Chad’s expression was passive. Chelynne apparently did not know about the real Lady Stelanthope. She was not so kind and virtuous as Chelynne thought. Had their paths crossed before the carefully arranged marriage it could have been rather embarrassing for all of them.
“You’ve made me a proud teacher on this occasion,” the good lady returned, acting out her part beautifully. “I’ve brought someone with me this trip, my dear. I heard him singing in his leisure time and have had him entertaining for me this past year.”
“Who?” Chelynne asked quizzically.
“Reuben. The gardener,” she said, one brow raised. “Do you perhaps remember him?”
Chelynne blanched, and fought to recover herself. “Of course I remember him,” she said softly.
“Why,” the baroness said as if suddenly remembering. “He was a playmate of yours, wasn’t he?”
Nothing quite so innocent as that, Chelynne thought. “Yes,” she fairly whispered. She had been young then but not all her ways were childlike. It was Reuben, dear Reuben, who was the first to ever desire her, pursue her. He loved her in a desperate, hungry way. It was after one of their secret encounters was found out that Chelynne was sent from Lord Stelanthope’s home. Chelynne silently prayed that Lady Stelanthope didn’t remember and that if she did, she wouldn’t speak of it.
“Ah, I think they’re ready to hear him now. Won’t you join us, my lord?”
“With pleasure,” Chad returned, offering Chelynne his arm.
Chelynne was seated in a chair very near the entertainer and Chad stood behind her. Reuben sat on the floor, not taking notice of her then. He was dressed as a jester, with multicolored chausses and a silk jerkin covering his broad chest. He looked so strange in this garb, so out of place. He was a laborer, filling the days since early in his youth with much hard physical work. To be placed in a manor house instead of the fields was quite a lift in his status, but still he was common. His large muscular frame in this entertainer’s costume belied his position as minstrel. But he was handsome. More handsome than ever. He would be now twenty-one years and there was not a youthful or boyish affectation to his appearance. He was every inch a man.
Chelynne hadn’t imagined his voice for he never sang to her, but it was glorious. The rich tones floated through the drawing room and those present praised his efforts loudly. Reuben, possessing now the enthusiasm of an entertainer, played another song and his rich baritone enthralled them all.
After the third song a stool was brought for him, and more people gathered in the small audience. He was prepared to begin when his eyes caught sight of Chelynne. To her complete dismay he looked pointedly at her, his eyes glowing with emotion. He looked nowhere else as his fingers sensed the strings and a lilting melody floated through the air.
A summer’s day a-passing,
I blew away the clouds.
On cupid’s back she came a-riding, a-riding,
To steal my youth away, away,
To seal a man to stay.
I knew no kindled fire,
Till she brought me to a touch,
And she lingered for a moment, a moment,
To creep into my heart, my heart,
To creep into my heart.
I longed to hold her to me,
To love her all I would,
To fill her with a promise, a promise,
To claim her for all time, all time,
To make her truly mine.
I took her to the mountain,
I took her to the sea,
I took her to the heavens, the heavens,
And she flew away from me, from me,
She flew away from me.
The applause was subdued and the room fairly quiet. It was the lonely tale of a man who had loved and lost...and seemed to be meant for the countess of Bryant. Their eyes were betrayingly glued together.
From where he sat Reuben slowly raised his gaze from Chelynne to one directly above her, the hard steely flint of the earl of Bryant. Immediately Reuben shifted his eyes to Louise and sought to woo the king’s mistress with an equally beautiful song about a sailor and a mermaid and their tireless romance.
Chelynne never suspected or worried that Chad had a jealous twinge, or even cared that she had been moved by the romantic lilting of Reuben’s voice. She was lost in thought, all of which was of Reuben and his powerful effect on her.
She wished now that she had yielded to him on that grassy bed of nature’s own home. She longed for the chance to caress that muscled back and feel his hands on her again. She grieved that she was bound to jewels and dinners at Whitehall, thinking only of the bliss of being a simple lass and wed to a yeoman. It would seem gay to know no burden above the mashing out of the next meal and the swelling of a child within her.
Her eyes closed as she imagined it. Never did a simple man’s wife wonder where her husband took the night, never did he have to guess whose child she carried. Their virtues were their strength and their wealth came from their labors. Reuben’s voice played the background for her daydreams as she imagined him holding her naked against the fresh, sweet-smelling grass, touching and caressing. She might as well have been alone in her fantasy for the reality of it. He rose over her and she gently smoothed his cheek...but the face did not belong to Reuben. It was Chad.
Her eyes popped open in surprise and she quickly discounted the entire experience, flushing it from her mind.
Reuben pleased his audience well, which was all he wanted to do, but after another song he was dismissed. They were bored with the beauty of his talent. It was so typical of this group; always bored, always seeking new diversion, never satisfied.
Chelynne knew better than to approach Reuben, for his safety as well as her own. She waited for a long time before making her way to Lady Stelanthope. Chad was busy at the gaming tables.
“Madam,” she beckoned softly. “Does Reuben stay in London with you?”
“Ah, so it was for you...the song. Shhhh. Say no more and let me warn you once. The past is over and you must not speak of Reuben or to him. You would be branded forever for tr
ifling with a gardener.”
Chelynne lowered her eyes in embarrassment she would have much preferred to be private. “I don’t wish to see him,” she murmured. “But it would please me if you could tell him...tell him that I enjoyed his songs.”
“If you wish it, darling,” she sighed, brushing a sympathetic hand along Chelynne’s arm.
“ ‘Tis a pity,” Chelynne started. She stopped her words. There was nothing she could say. She missed the narrowing of Lady Stelanthope’s eyes. Chelynne had no idea that Lady Stelanthope was not so moved by Reuben’s voice as by other things.
“A sad state of affairs, this,” came a voice from behind. Chelynne turned to find herself looking into the laughing eyes of the king. “Is there nothing here to amuse you, my lady?”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” she said quickly. “I...I’m having a wonderful time.”
He shook his head skeptically. “It doesn’t seem so. What would please you? I’ll see it’s provided.”
“Why...nothing more, I assure you.”
“You liked the minstrel?”
“Of course,” she said softly.
“I thought you did. I believe he had a song meant for you.”
She worried over her reply. Lady Stelanthope had retreated and she saw no sign of any acquaintance. She was alone with him, what she had longed for and feared. “It would seem so, sire.”
“Are you still so uncomfortable with me, my dear?” he asked softly.
“No, sire,” she replied, though she could not look at him.
“I think you are, though I wish you wouldn’t be. I should like us to be friends.”
She looked at him then with open adoration. How kind he was. How thoughtful, gentle. “There is nothing I should like more, sire,” she sighed, completely lost in his dark features. There was nothing about him to fear, from what she knew of him. But she had this awe because of his status; he was so powerful and unattainable. Now, so close to him, she wished for nothing so much in her life as to get to know him...be his friend. She had a sudden vision of him without his periwig, completely bald. A giggle came to her lips and he raised an eyebrow in question.
“There is something amusing, madam?”
“No, sire,” she murmured, embarrassed.
“Of course there is. Won’t you share it with me?”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. Please forgive me.”
“I’ll not forgive you until you tell me what set you to laughing. Ods fish, I could use a decent joke!”
There was a merry twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips.
The picture of him with sinister brows and shining pate came again to her mind and the giggles took over. “Oh, forgive me,” she apologized, wondering what madness had seized her. She knew no recourse but to tell her thoughts and hope she hadn’t angered him too severely. “As I looked at you then, I thought that perhaps...well, when the periwig is not in place...Oh, sire, I only wondered what your hair is really like. I’m sorry.” But still she giggled.
“What do you imagine it is like?” he asked good-naturedly.
More giggles. “I...I couldn’t say. Perhaps just as now.”
“That wouldn’t be amusing. You thought it light, perhaps? Like York’s?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “Yes, that’s it.”
“No, I think not.” His finger touched his lips in thought. “Badly grayed and thin?”
“Oh, no, sire,” she said strongly, for she wouldn’t have him insulted for the world. But once again she laughed, trying desperately to stop. She wanted to kill herself for this wicked affliction.
Suddenly both his brows arched as the thought came to him. “You thought there was none!”
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes large and round. She had never seen him angry, but she greatly feared being the one who would anger the king and therefore sent to the Tower for insolence. But he laughed uproariously and drew all eyes to them. “Then you shall have a look,” he said, snatching the wig off his head and bowing low so she could have a good look at the thick black locks he could still call his own. When he straightened he was laughing still, but more from the shock on her face than from his own mischief.
Soon the people in the room were all laughing and before she could fully comprehend the situation periwigs were coming off all around them, young men ruffling their own true locks and older men refusing to part with their hair.
Chelynne melted into uncontrollable laughter. Forgetting herself and her station she dropped to a stool to hold her sides, painful now from hearty laughter. How ridiculous the whole thing had become, how silly. She never expected the king and all his courtiers to behave like such comedians.
A still chuckling sovereign settled beside her, a periwig still slightly askew crowning his head. “Now you shouldn’t wonder at it any longer, madam. Is there anything else you wish to know about me?”
“I think not, sire,” she said with good humor. “Lest I should ask and you take off your—” She stopped abruptly and eyed him carefully. What might she have said? She realized with horror that to have finished her statement in some way, any way, would have been better than to leave it as she had.
The king touched her hand briefly and muttered, “That, madam, is the talk of the town.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
To have John Bollering out of London left the earl of Bryant with a great many matters to pursue. He had had no word from Bratonshire and the plan was still delicate enough that there was no one but John to see word delivered. No other confidants knew of Chad’s interest and involvement thus far.
In the matter of Harry Mondeloy, Chad moved slowly and carefully, confiding his interest to no one. He found that Harry was indeed in the city, having located his lodgings and caught sight of him a couple of times. Harry spent his time with a group of young fops, drinking, gambling and wenching. There would be, no doubt, a huge debt for Lord Mondeloy to make good. Chad laid the groundwork for obtaining more information and would wait for the proper time to face the young sot, preferring to have the advantage before entering any confrontation.
Chad visited his son almost daily, personally keeping tabs on Kevin and his welfare. There was little time for childish things, the boy already reading, scratching out crude little letters on a slate, and sitting astride a horse. But the moments that Chad spent with his son were the only ones in which the earl let his guard down completely, forgetting his preoccupation with business and duty and enjoying totally the precious time they had together.
The lad had the heavy dark brows of his sire, the brooding in his silver eyes that was Chad’s, and his hair was fast becoming that same raven black in color. But his smile, the bright and wild smile, was completely Anne’s. It was a rare and odd combination, almost unearthly at times. To Chad it was a wondrous miracle. Kevin was the core of his existence.
Winter was coming down upon England now and soon travel between the country and city would be difficult. Chad looked to the sky often in hopes of snow, but thus far there was only rain.
Some special correspondence the earl had sent off had finally been answered. It pertained to his father’s manservant. Strangely, he had word sent to Sebastian at his own home via messenger and asked the old man to travel to an inn to meet him. The ordinary was out of the city and Chad sought out a dim corner to await Sebastian. When the man entered the dark room he doffed his hat, took a seat opposite the earl, and waited. There was no word of welcome, acknowledgment of title or position. Chad smiled. It was as if Sebastian read his mind.
After a tankard of ale had been delivered to the newly arrived patron, Sebastian spoke. “I’m thinkin’ there’s reason, lad, but I canna say why ye’d be callin’ me here.”
“There is, Sebastian. First, I’ve purposely neglected thanking you for tending John. His friendship is valued and therefore his life is more than a little important to me.”
“The lad’s a mite important to meself, sir. I’d have taken the time without yer approval.�
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“Aye, I believe you would have. You remember him well, I think. And if I don’t miss my guess, you’d remember his father.”
“I do.”
“You’ve not had much to occupy yourself since my father’s death, have you, Sebastian?”
“I wouldna complain of idleness, sir. I’d sooner have labors to hold off the time, to be tellin’ ye true. If there’s some chore—”
“There is, Sebastian. An unpleasant one. I can count on one hand the number of people I would trust to do my bidding and you are here,” he said, raising up his index finger. “Do you remember when Bollering lost his estate to Shayburn?”
“Aye. It could’ve been yesterday.”
“The family is taken care of now. Difficult as it was, the men are content and have made their way and the girls are married and married well. There’s a single one in that family who is not satisfied with the present state of affairs. Do you follow me?”
“Aye, sir. Young John would not take the leavin’s of that snake.”
“John’s been busy these past years, earning his coin. He doesn’t have to come back to England now. Lord knows there’s better for him in other lands...but, as you’ve witnessed, he’s back.”
“Aye, sir. He’s pirated his way back, as it’s told. Thief, pirate...ah, the land’s not had a lot of pretty tales about him.”
Chad laughed. “Intentional fabrications, Sebastian. He had His Majesty’s leave for privateering and has not stolen a cent that I’m aware of. Just the same he has managed to accumulate a fair amount of money. Would it surprise you to know John has been most often with me?”
‘Not now, sir. But the story had it ye’d fallen out with yer friend and parted ways.”
Chad nodded; it was another intended tale. “It seems here’s a matter in England plaguing his heart. He’s thought to be out of the country, pursuing other interests. Have you mentioned seeing him to anyone?”
“I’d ‘ave burned first. I know what the lad’s about.”