Romney Lee eyed the gentleman with growing suspicion and dislike. That the man was indeed a gentleman there was no doubt in the gypsy's mind. Although he was dressed rather casually, as if he'd been out riding, there was no question of the fineness of his attire, for the cut of his doublet and hose could not be faulted, nor the quality of the buff leather trimmed with a discreet touch of gold braid.
He still wore his riding boots, the soft leather coated with dust up to the middle of his thighs. His lacy ruff was fashionably starched and he held his gold pomander with an elegant air, but this man was no papered courtier. The man's lean, handsome face was bronzed from the sun, and his shoulders and thighs were sinewy with muscle. A single gold earring gleamed against his neatly trimmed hair and beard, which were as black as a raven's wing.
The man's gaze was steady, unwavering, as he stared at Lily Christian, and Romney Lee knew a sudden fear of this nameless man.
Lily knew the name.
She felt her heart pounding so wildly in her breast she had trouble breathing. she tried to catch her breath, her lips parted slightly as she stared at Valentine Whitelaw. She hadn't been able to believe her eyes when she'd glanced up to see him standing so boldly before her. He was just the way she remembered him. The sensations that had spread through her had been both pleasurable and frightening. She had hoped she would feel different when seeing him again, that she had outgrown her young girl's blind adoration for him, but the attraction was stronger than ever, especially when his narrowed gaze had captured hers and she'd found herself unable to glance away.
Never before had he stared at her with that ardent look in his eye. She had seen that warm, interested gleam in his eye when he'd gazed at other women, at Cordelia and Honoria, but never when he'd gazed at her; never at Lily Christian. But today, Valentine Whitelaw had caressed her with his eyes. He had watched her as if he'd actually found her beautiful, Lily thought in disbelief, forgetting for a moment that she had become a woman during the years since last they had met. But all she could think of was that he'd been standing there alone, as if searching the crowd for someone, and then his eyes had met hers, and for a stunning moment Lily had felt her world reeling around her. She remembered another time and place when she had gazed up into eyes the same turquoise shade as the warm waters surrounding their island in the Indies.
In never occurred to Lily that he might not have recognized her.
"Valentine," Lily said his name soundlessly, her lips curving in a smile so gentle and loving that a man walking past forgot to watch where he was going and bumped into a woman carrying a yoke across her shoulders and balancing a couple of pales brimming with ale. As she staggered, swinging around, one of the pales caught the man in the middle of his back. The blow sent him flying into another man, who was busy minding his own business while he selected the proper coin for the gooseberry tarts he'd just bought for his wife and himself. His wife screamed when the ale splashed over her skirts. But the startled gentleman only had time to stare in bemusement before his feet were knocked out form under him and his purse sent flying into the crowd.
"Hey! Come back here! Thief! He stole my purse!" the man cried out angrily, struggling to his feet only to fall over the gentleman who'd had the wind knocked out of him by the pale. "Stop, thief! Stop him!" he yelled as he watched a thin boy dressed in little better than rags race off through the crowd with several of his brawny servants in close pursuit.
Romney Lee cursed beneath his breath, for he'd recognized the boy as one of theirs. the boys widowed mother worked as a serving wench or laundress whenever she could find the work, which wasn't often. Romney had to get to the lad first, for if caught, the lad would be hanged. If he got away, they could all face being fined or having their booths closed down. The man the boy had stolen the purse from was a high-ranking guild member in the city, who would use his influence to make things difficult for the rest of them if his money wasn't returned.
Romney glanced quickly at Lily, unwilling to leave her, but she had disappeared. He looked around in surprise, but she was nowhere to be seen. As he hurried through the crowd, he risked a glance at the tall gentleman who'd been staring so intently at Lily, but he was now in conversation with another woman, and a very beautiful woman at that, Rom though with an admiring glint in his eye.
She was certainly a beauty. Her hair was black and elegantly coiffed in small curls high on her head and topped with a jeweled cap. Her silk gown was a blushing peach shade and of the latest French fashion, although perhaps a trifle indiscreet. For the bodice was cut lower than modesty allowed, a stiffened corselet pushing her bare breasts precariously close to the lace-trimmed edge. Around her throat, she wore a ruffled collarette rather than the more discreet partlet, and it served to draw the eye to the swell of soft flesh below. Her waist was encircled by a jeweled girdle and seemed all the tinier for the farthingale worn beneath her gown, which allowed the heavy folds of silk to fall in undisturbed elegance. While she conversed, she fanned herself with a large feather fan dyed the same exotic color as her gown, even though she stood in the cool shade of a canopy being supported by two liveried footmen standing on either side of her.
Cuprous, Rom watched as the man lifted the woman's hand to his lips, and the seductive glance she gave hi told Romney Lee far more than if he'd been close enough to catch the exchange of pleasantries. The two were lovers, and the man had most likely already forgotten Lily Christian's existence as the dark-haired woman smiled up at him, leaning provocatively close to whisper something loving in his ear.
Romney Lee breathed a sigh of relief. The man had only been admiring Lily's exceptional beauty. He could not blame him, he had to confess, quickening his step along the midway when he caught sight of one of the thick-skulled fellows who'd gone after the boy.
"So, you have safely returned from sea once again?" Cordelia Howard greeted Valentine Whitelaw, eyeing him as if memorizing every feature of his handsome face. "You were not gone as long this time."
"We journeyed only as far as Africa. I intend to be in Cornwall when Artemis gives birth," Valentine responded politely, but his eyes were searching the crowd impatiently as he looked for the girl who had so entranced him. But she had disappeared.
"A profitable voyage?" Cordelia inquired a bit shortly, trying to recapture his attention.
"Not as profitable as some, but enough," Valentine replied, smiling down at her and causing Cordelia Howard to realize, and not for the first time, that the greatest mistake of her life had been in not marrying Valentine Whitelaw when she'd had the chance.
Cordelia laughed harshly. "You and your damned voyages. I vow, I hate that ship of yours. If you had stayed in England more we would still be together."
Valentine smiled slightly. "I never got the impression that you missed me all that much, Cordelia. You always reminded me that there were others to amuse you while I was away."
Cordelia flushed, not caring to be reminded of her past indiscretions. "I might have allowed others to amuse me, but I never forgot you, Valentine. I always missed you and longed for your return. I even missed you this time," she said, her dark eyes holding his, and for a brief instant, Cordelia thought she saw a flash of the old passion come into them.
"Not all that much, I think. I understand congratulations are in order?"
"From your tone, I gather that you do not approve?" she asked poutingly, hoping he was jealous, but he disappointed her by his response.
"I will not pretend that I have ever cared much for Valchamps, Cordelia. But if you are happy, then . . ." he said, shrugging as if it was of little concern to him.
Cordelia Howard affected a coquettish look which covered well the real regret she felt deep down inside. "You could have made me very happy," she said softly.
"I think we both realized the mistake we were making. We mistook our feelings for one another to be love. We would not have made each other happy, Cordelia."
"I wish we could have tried again," she surprised both of them by a
dmitting. " 'Tisn't too late yet," she reminded him, then sensing his withdrawal, she winked a trifle wickedly. If he declined, she would at least still have her pride for he would never know if she had spoken in truth or jest. "I will not be Lady Valchamps till next month."
"I do not think Valchamps would approve," Valentine commented without either accepting or declining her invitation.
"One never knows with Raymond," Cordelia said strangely. "Of course, were it anyone but you . . ."
"I do not think I will risk provoking the gentleman."
"Although he thinks himself almost a god, I do not believe Raymond is omniscient. He does not know everything that goes on. Besides, there is no reason why we cannot remain friends," she added softly, and had anyone overheard her, they would have believed in the innocence of her remark, but Valentine was staring into her eyes and knew differently.
"We can't go back, Delia," was all he said, but it was enough to convince Cordelia Howard that she had truly lost Valentine Whitelaw.
"A pity you were not at the Davieses' last evening," Cordelia said quickly, guessing he was about to take his leave of her and walk away. " 'Twas a wonderful banquet. Riverhurst is quite an estate. You haven't seen it yet, have you? Yes? Well, I vow poor Raymond was going to demand we leave early. I dare say we will be rebuilding one of these days ourselves. Raymond can't stand to be beaten in anything, by anybody. I always let him think he has won, whatever the game," she said, glancing around curiously. "Where is that manservant of yours? I'm always uneasy when he's lurking about."
"He is selecting provisions for our journey, and for tonight's dinner," Valentine said, growing impatient to be about his way so he could find the girl.
"Journey? 'Sdeath! You just returned. I though you said you wished to be here for the great arrival of Sir Rodger's heir? Faith, but I still become choked with laughter thinking of you and Sir Rodger being brothers-in-law. The family dinners must be uproarious with the two of you glaring at each other across the table."
" 'Tis for the journey to Cornwall. I shall sail there rather than travel across country," Valentine explained, ignoring her jibe.
"When do you sail? I though I understood Sir Rodger to say that he would be attending several of the countless birthday celebrations for Elizabeth. Of course, so determined is our queen, one can always wait another couple of years for her to celebrate her half century of life. 'Twill be quite magnificent. The sky will no doubt be ablaze with fireworks. Who would ever have guessed she'd manage to survive so long?" Cordelia said with a note of grudging respect in her voice. She only hoped she would be so fortunate.
"We will not leave London until Quinta has returned from Scotland. 'Twill be at least a fortnight before we sail."
"You intend to stay in London, then?"
"Part of the time. I was at Riverhurst earlier in the day to pay my respects to Lady Elspeth and Sir William. I wish to visit my nephew, Simon, at Whiteswood, then call in at Highcross Court to see the children," Valentine said with a smile of anticipation, for he had a sea chest full of presents for them. It had been too long since he'd spent any time with them, he thought, deciding he would have a talk with Hartwell Barclay. It would be pleasant to have the children aboard the Madrigal when he sailed for Cornwall. A tender look came into Valentine's eye when he thought of them aboard his ship once again.
"Those children! I swear one would think you'd sired them yourself the way you worry about them, Valentine. I really shall have to find a wife for you, my dear, so you can fill your house with noisy sons and daughters," Cordelia said with a glint in her eye that had Valentine watching her warily.
"I think I can manage on my own, Cordelia."
"Yes, I'm sure you can, but . . . of course! There is the lovely Honoria Penmorley. Such a dear young woman. Rather pale, though. However, she would make you the ideal wife. And now that your sister has taken over her duties as mistress of Penmorley Hall, she must be occupying all of her time with her embroidery. I dare say, there most likely isn't a bare chair in the whole hall. I do believe she would be eternally content to remain in Cornwall. Don't you think so?"
"Yes, now that you mention it, I believe she would. Indeed, she would make a most admirable wife. She is a very capable woman. She has managed Sir Rodger's home for these many years. She is intelligent. She converses well on most subjects. And she appears in very good health. Yes, she has splendid qualifications," Valentine said, his lips twitching slightly as he noticed the tightness around Cordelia's mouth.
"What you have described, my dear, is a housekeeper. Of course, unless you fine a lusty one, and pay her extra, you would not stay very warm on a cold winter's night, now would you?" Cordelia asked slyly, lightly tapping her fingers against his lean cheek. "And come to speculate 'pon it, I doubt even with Honoria in your bed you would fare any better. The woman's cold as a stone. And I must admit, my dear, you are a man who demands quite a lot of a woman when she is in your bed. Do you really think Honoria would be able to handle such unbridled passions?
Valentine inclined his head slightly. "I am beginning to wonder if Raymond Valchamps quite realizes what a prize he has won for himself. Now, if you will excuse me, Cordelia? I must leave, I've several more people I must see before this evening."
"Oh, dear me, I believe I have struck a sensitive nerve, haven't I?" Cordelia murmured, her cheeks flushed with irritation. "I believe you have already been considering taking Honoria to wife, and here am I speaking so ill of the woman. I am sorry, Valentine. I do hope I haven't cast any doubts in your mind. I am certain, m'dear, that Honoria would make you a very . . . ah, yes, a very respectable wife," Cordelia concluded, her smile understanding as she dealt her final insult.
"Good afternoon, Cordelia," Valentine said, and bowing slightly, he walked away.
Lily Christian was standing unnoticed beside the tent just beyond where Valentine Whitelaw had stood in conversation with Cordelia Howard. Her lips trembling slightly, Lily remembered Quinta Whitelaw's conversation of the previous winter, when she had spoken of Cordelia's visit to Ravindzara and how most likely by summer Cordelia and Valentine would be engaged, certainly wed by fall.
As Lily stood watching the two, hearing that cruel, mocking laughter of Cordelia Howard's, she remembered another time, when she had overheard the two in the gardens of Tamesis House, when Valentine Whitelaw had laughed so scornfully over the prospect of ever finding Lily Christian attractive. He could never fall in love with her, Lily remembered him declaring, reliving again the mortification she had felt that afternoon. It had been an afternoon much like this one, she thought as she saw Sir Raymond Valchamps sauntering along the midway, Thomas Sandrick and another gentleman accompanying. Lily stepped inside the cool darkness of the tent and out of sight before anyone could see her, for Raymond Valchamps was the last person she wanted to cross paths with.
Lily began to step back outside when something grabbed hold of her hand. Crying out in alarm, Lily spun around and stared blindly into the shadows of the tent.
"Ah, Lily Francisca, have ye come to Old Maria to have yer fortune told?" the old woman cackled, her wizened hand fondling Lily's young flesh.
"So pretty. So sweet. So dangerous," she crooned, laughing huskily. "Come, do not be afraid, little one. Let Old Maria tell ye what yer future holds. Come . . . come . . . I won't hurt ye," she said, pulling Lily deeper into the tent, where the air was heavy with burning incense and potions.
"Cordelia, my love," Sir Raymond greeted his fiancée, pressing a kiss into her palm. Still holding on to her hand, he inquired, "I trust you were not bored while Thomas and I watched that wrestling match?"
"Not at all," Cordelia responded, not caring for Raymond's tone of voice. "My dear, you are hurting my hand."
"Oh, I am sorry, my love," Sir Raymond apologized nicely. "That wasn't by any chance the good captain I saw standing here talking to you not more than five minutes past?"
"Valentine? Here? At the fair? I had a note from him this morning inviting me to j
oin him at the Devil for a light supper," Thomas Sandrick said, glancing around. "If you will excuse me, I'll try to catch up with him now. We could go on over. Devilish thirst," he said with a laugh. "I'd like to hear about his journey. Cordelia. Raymond. I'll see both of you this evening," Thomas Sandrick excused himself.
"Cordelia?"
"Not jealous, my dear?" She laughed, prolonging his uncertainty.
"Constantly," he confessed, his eyes searching the crowd. "And what did you and the good captain discuss?" he asked conversationally.
"Now, that would be telling, wouldn't it? 'Tis far more exciting for you to wonder," she said with a teasing smile that quickly faded when Raymond's fingers tightened painfully around her wrist. "If you were not about to break my wrist, I vow I would be flattered, m'dear. Let loose, Raymond," Cordelia said, no longer finding the conversation amusing.
"Don't ever try to hide anything from me, Delia. You will regret it. I give you fair warning. Now, what were you and the good captain discussing? I will know."
Cordelia moistened her dry lips. "We did not speak for long, he was in a hurry to leave the fair. Obviously to meet Thomas," she said a trifle indignantly. Had it been another woman, she would have understood. "We were merely discussing his journey and return to England. He will not be here longer than a fortnight, if that will set your mind at ease."
"Oh? And where is he journeying next?"
"To Cornwall. His sister is with child. He wishes to be there. Raymond, please, let me go," Cordelia pleaded, for her fingers were becoming numb.
"I see. What is he going to do before he leaves London? As if I didn't know," he said, smiling into her startled eyes.
"No, Raymond, truly. We have not planned to meet. I am to wed you, my dear. I chose you for my husband, not Valentine Whitelaw," she reassured him. "Valentine is going to visit Whiteswood, then travel to Highcross to see those damned children he rescued from that isle. He will have little more time than that. If we meet, 'twill merely be during a banquet. Raymond? You do believe me, don't you?" Cordelia asked, frightened of a man for the first time in her life.
Wild Bells to the Wild Sky Page 43