by Lauren Royal
Trick tucked his tongue in his cheek. “Were you not aware the Chases are favored?”
For the second time this evening, she was tempted to swat him. “You know very well what I mean. I’ve never seen you at court—”
“I do my best to avoid it.”
“And I don’t remember you from the years in exile, either. So how is it you’ve come to know Charles so well?”
Trick leaned close to answer at a discreet volume. “My father—the duke—was a major supplier of kingly luxury items,” he murmured. “All through the Commonwealth years, we had, uh…dealings.”
Kendra stopped fanning. “You’re jesting, aren’t you? Charles was as poor as we were during those years.”
“I’m not jesting. The duke was happy enough to supply him free of charge.”
“Out of loyalty?”
He snorted aloud this time. “Out of greed. Charles promised him the dukedom restored upon his own restoration.” He frowned across the chamber, then turned back to her, pulling at his cravat. “If you’re not going to fan yourself, you may as well fan me.”
“My wrist is tired. I’ve decided to sweat instead.”
Chuckling, he leaned forward and gave her a kiss. “Ladies don’t sweat. Ladies glow.”
“I’m a duchess now, not a lady. I can do as I please.” Suddenly she noticed him staring at a lady across the chamber. “Trick? Who is that?”
“Most people call her Lady Charlotte Waller.”
She blew out a breath, her free hand curling into a fist. If this was his London mistress…
“Most people?” she asked carefully.
“Charlotte, Harlot—what’s the difference?”
Despite her distress, she laughed, thinking there were very few women present who didn’t deserve such a designation. “And what, pray tell, could this Lady Harlot have done to earn such a nickname at King Charles’s court?”
“She slept with the Earl of Danforth.”
“From what I understand, so have half the women here.”
He raised a brow. “Not while they were betrothed to me.”
“Oh.” Dear heavens! Not a mistress, but the girl from Trick’s poem. The one who had wounded him so deeply that Kendra despaired of ever putting him to rights—of ever hearing a declaration of love pass his lips.
If anyone deserved a good swatting, it was Lady Charlotte Waller.
Kendra glared at the simpering blonde across the room. Harlot. “I hate her.”
“Aye. It should have been obvious she only wanted me for my title. And that despite her protestations of virtue, she was anything but virtuous.” He looked mad enough to spit. “But I was too trusting. It took finding them in bed together to make me realize she was unworthy of my trust.”
In which case Kendra wouldn’t have had an uphill battle to prove herself worthy of her husband’s trust. Though if Trick had married the harlot, he wouldn’t be her husband. But that was beside the point.
No…that was the point entirely. He was her husband, not the harlot’s. And although not long ago she’d never have believed it, she was very happy about that.
Courtiers were gathering around the dance floor, a rainbow of brilliant colors in the blazing light. Jewels glittered on ears, necks, wrists, and the hands of men and women alike.
Kendra couldn’t help but notice that most everyone wore pearls. With a secret smile, she toyed with her amber bracelet. Who needed pearls, anyway? Looking down to her hands, she noticed the plain gold band around her finger. So very Trick. She should have realized from the first that he wouldn’t be the type of duke she detested.
And she’d found she didn’t so much mind being a duchess, either. Together in those roles, they could do much good. Whether it was fair or not, people listened to what dukes and duchesses had to say. With whispers in the right ears, they could raise enough money to open a hundred orphanages if they wanted.
And he wouldn’t have to play the highwayman anymore. In fact, before they got to Amberley, she’d demand he stop. Now.
His attention still across the room, she stole a glance at her husband. His golden good looks set her heart to racing, and she knew that she couldn’t stand to even think of the possibility that he might be hurt or—heaven forbid—arrested. She would find some way to keep the children fed and clothed until she could put her new plan into motion.
At the far end of the chamber, musicians were tuning up, and King Charles was leading Queen Catharine through the crowd to begin the dancing.
“Shall we dance?” Kendra asked Trick.
Tearing his gaze from the harlot, he looked down at her. “Am I not supposed to do the asking?” He smiled. “Oh dear, I nearly forgot. You’re a duchess now and can do as you please.”
Laughing, she turned into her husband’s arms and let herself be led to the dance floor, where a minuet was playing.
He bowed to her, then did a small plié in a mirror of her own movement. “Do you realize we’ve never danced?” he said conversationally.
She stepped forward with her right foot, rising on her toes. “I danced with your brother, you know.”
“Did you? When?” They both brought their feet together, lowering their heels. “Should I be worried?” Trick asked with a mock-stern frown. “Remember what I told you about fidelity.”
Though she was sure he didn’t intend it, his gaze went to Lady Harlot, who seemed to be pointedly ignoring him.
She repeated the steps with her left foot, her own gaze going to King Charles. “Remember what I told you about fidelity.”
His laugh made her feel a lot better. He dropped her hands so they could both turn. “Niall and I danced at the draidgie,” she said coquettishly over her shoulder. “While you were outside writing.” His hands felt warm when he reached for hers again. “It was a wild dance, I tell you—we weren’t able to talk like this.”
“Ah, yes, a Scottish country dance.”
“Did someone mention Scottish?”
“Caithren!” Surprised, Kendra turned and threw her arms around her sister-in-law. “What are you doing here?”
“We’ve stopped in London for a few days before heading for Cainewood. Jase is insisting I see Dr. Willis.”
Kendra frowned when a dancer had the nerve to bump into their happy little reunion. “The king’s physician?”
“The very same.” Cait sighed. “Just what I need—a man poking and prodding me. Wheesht!” she added as a broad-reared matron backed into her. “I’ve delivered a dozen or more bairns; I think I know what I’m doing.”
“Shall we?” Trick asked, motioning them off the busy dance floor. “What’s this all about?”
Kendra tried to look baffled. “Did I forget to tell you that Caithren is with child?”
“Aye, it seems you did.” With a knowing smile, he turned to Cait. “Congratulations.”
“Was Jason upset?” Kendra asked.
“Would you believe I convinced him I didn’t know?” Concealed by a lovely rose-colored gown with a silver-embroidered stomacher, Cait’s middle still looked flat. She grinned. “The truth is he’s not quite sure, and in any case, his main concern was getting back to England before the weather set in.”
“So what was his reaction, then?”
“I’m thrilled.” Appearing from out of nowhere, Jason bent to give Kendra a kiss. “How are you doing?” he asked in her ear.
Dressed in dark green and looking delightfully familiar, the sight of him made her wonder why she’d been so angry with him. “I’m happy,” she admitted.
“I’m happy to hear it.” He had the good grace not to look smug, although she knew full well he’d lord it over her in the future. He turned to his wife. “You didn’t fool me for a minute, you know. I was too pleased to make a fuss…although now the excitement’s worn off a bit, I’ve a mind to make you pay for that deception.”
She raised a brow. “I cannot wait.”
The stern look Kendra was more accustomed to settled on his features. “Your
health could have been at risk. And the babe’s as well.”
“I’ve never felt healthier in my life.” Cait slipped an arm around his waist, gazing up at him with a brilliant, calculated smile. “You’re not really vexed with me, are you?”
His answer was an indulgent sigh. “So what are you doing here?” he asked Trick.
“I have something that belongs to Charles. Long story,” he added when Cait went to ask. “I’m sure Kendra will enjoy the telling.”
Kendra grinned. “He only says that hoping I’ll make him out a hero.”
“I cannot wait to hear,” Caithren said, snagging her by the arm. “Shall we repair to the garden?”
The music stopped, and dancers began jostling past. His obligations over, King Charles caught Trick’s gaze and sent him a significant nod.
“I’m afraid your talk will have to wait,” he said. “I believe I’ve just been summoned home to Caldwell House.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, then,” Cait said, dropping Kendra’s arm and threading her own through Jason’s. “And my husband will dance with me instead.”
“Nothing energetic,” he warned. “You’ll stick to the minuet.”
“You see what I have to put up with?” she asked Kendra with a roll of her eyes. “Crivvens, you’d think I was an invalid.”
SIXTY-FOUR
AT CALDWELL House later that night, Trick watched as Charles swirled Madeira in his glass and took an appreciative sip. “Amazing.”
“The wine?”
The king’s lips curved beneath his thin black mustache. “The wine’s of admirable quality, to be sure. But then, your late father dealt only in the best.”
Trick agreed with a curt nod. The best, aye. The best wine, the best fabrics, the best furnishings, the best books. His gaze wandered to the leather-bound tomes lining the walls in this, the most impressive study in all of London. He doubted the man had ever cracked open even one of them.
“However, it was your gift I was referring to.” Charles set down the glass and reached into the chest, pulling out a solid gold dish and turning its heavy weight thoughtfully in his hands. “To think my own father’s treasure has resurfaced after all these years.”
“Only to end up where it was said to be in the first place.” Pensively, Trick played with the lock in his hands—the one he’d hacked off in the king’s presence.
“Od’s fish—that was none of your doing. It’s pleased I am that you recovered what you did, and I’d be pleased as well to see you keep a part of it.”
“I couldn’t.” He’d lost most of it already, no matter that Charles refused to place blame.
“I insist.” He handed Trick the plate. “Here. As a memento, if nothing else.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t want to keep this.” The dish had to be worth a small fortune, and Charles needed it far more than he did.
“There must be something here that strikes your fancy.” The king set down the plate and raised a jeweled goblet. “This. Or something else.”
“No, really, I—”
“What is this?” Metal servingware clanked as Charles reached into the bottom and brought out the small ivory casket. His black eyes glittering, he lifted the unlocked lid and extracted the short necklace of large pearls. Raising it with a hand, he flicked a finger to set the giant teardrop pearl swinging. “There’s a painting of my mother wearing this,” he murmured.
“Henrietta Maria will be happy to have it back. It will look lovely on her.”
The king looked up. “Yes, it will,” he said softly. “I thank you.” He fished out the sapphire and diamond necklace that Kendra had held up earlier. “If you won’t take something for yourself, then take this for your new wife.”
Suddenly inspired, Trick reached for the box, setting it on his lap to extricate a long strand of pearls from the tangle.
“This,” he said. “If you insist I take something, this is what I’d like.”
Charles frowned at it. “Those pearls are ordinary. And the clasp only amber. I’d lay odds that’s the least valuable item in the entire chest.”
“It’s the one I want.” Trick’s tone left no room for doubt.
“You shall have it then, with my thanks.” The king shut the casket and set it atop the gold and silver that crowded the trunk. He reached for his wineglass again, his long fingers worrying the stem. “How goes the mission?”
“Very well, but for the interruption.” The pearls made soft clicking sounds as Trick shifted them in his hands, thinking about Kendra asleep in the late duke’s gaudy bed upstairs. “I have some descriptions that I was preparing to give to Pendregast when I was called away to Scotland.”
“Excellent.” The king sipped. “I assume, being away, you missed hearing the latest news.”
“News?” A tiny chill crept up Trick’s spine. Or maybe the chamber was a bit cold.
“There’s been a reward posted for the mysterious Black Highwayman.”
“Blast it.” He could only hope his leads would pan out and he’d have no need to pose as the highwayman again. “No one has connected him to me, so I don’t expect I have anything to worry about.”
“No one?”
“Just my wife. And her family.” Unfortunately. “I haven’t told them the purpose for the disguise—”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
Broadsides were likely plastered all over the kingdom, advertising the reward. Kendra would see them and worry herself sick. “I’d like to tell only my wife—”
“If the mission is nearly complete, there’s no sense involving anyone else.”
“Just her—”
“I’ve never known a woman who could keep her mouth shut.” Charles pinned him with his jet-black gaze. “Have you?”
Once Trick would have agreed, but now he knew he’d been wrong. His wife had kept Cait’s secret, and she hadn’t told her brothers about his supposed financial trouble or him continuing as a highwayman, either.
“Kendra’s not like that.”
“I’m happy your marriage agrees with you, Amberley. But I trust no lady to stay quiet, not even your wife. And I’m trusting you to respect my wish for silence. Your loyalty will pay dividends. Your disloyalty…”
The unspoken words hung in the air. There it was, that veiled threat to withhold the pardon.
“I’m sorry,” Charles added with a sympathy Trick knew was sincere. It was part of the charm that made the king so popular with the people. But under that genuine kindness lay a streak of ruthless determination that was every bit as integral to the man’s personality. “I cannot afford to have it bandied about that the king is condoning robbery, no matter the reason or how deserving the victims. They’re my subjects, nonetheless.”
“But—”
“I’m asking you, as your monarch and your friend, to keep this wholly to yourself.”
Trick mentally threw up his hands. Opposing the monarchy went against everything he stood for. And although he’d agreed to this mission out of patriotism for king and country, he needed to finish it for Kendra. For their promising, fragile relationship, and for the children he hoped they’d have. Even now, an heir might be growing inside her, and that son deserved Amberley.
He sighed. “Of course.”
“Return to Sussex and arrange to meet with Pendregast. Fear not, for I’ve been thinking since I heard the news, and I’ve a plan to wrap this up. I owe you a debt for solving this little problem, and I won’t see you or the Chases implicated in any way.”
With a sinking heart, Trick listened to the plan. Despite his intentions otherwise, the deceptions would continue. For a man didn’t put his wife before his sovereign.
Not a wise one, in any case.
SIXTY-FIVE
KENDRA WOKE to a husky whisper in her ear.
“I have a present for you, leannan.”
Her head was lifted, and something cool and heavy slid down about her neck. Sleepily she reached for it, her fingers meeting
a strand of smooth, hard orbs that could only be pearls.
Her eyes flew open. “Has it an amber clasp?”
“But of course.” Standing over her, her husband smiled. Dear heavens, he looked gorgeous in the low light of the fire. “Charles tried to give me a solid gold platter as a reward, but I would have none of it.”
She ran her tongue over her teeth, thinking of that tiny chip in his. “Well, are you going to come down here and let me thank you?”
She sighed as he joined her beneath the coverlet and settled his body beside hers, then laughed when he reached for the hem of her chemise to pull it off, needing to draw it through the necklace to accomplish his goal. With a grin, she grabbed the far end of the long strand and slipped it over his head, roping him close.
“I’ve got you,” she said.
“You certainly have.” His mouth met hers for a leisurely kiss, and she melted happily into his arms.
No matter how many times he kissed her, she still felt afire like it was the first. A flush heated her skin, warming the pearls that draped heavily on her neck. When the strand tangled, becoming an obstacle between them, she reached to pull it off.
“I’ll take those.” He held out his hand. And she gave them over, expecting him to drop them to the night table, as she had been about to do.
But instead, he just held the long rope in the air.
“They’re beautiful,” she said, watching them swing gently, firelight dancing off the gleaming round surfaces.
“Not half as beautiful as you.”
She’d never thought of herself as especially beautiful, and she swallowed hard.
“Do you know how much I care for you?” he asked in a thick, velvet-edged whisper.
“How much?” she whispered back, breathlessly caught in his gaze.
“Enough to make me question my loyalties.”
Loyalties? Though she didn’t quite understand, she could tell the admission was wrenched from somewhere deep inside him, and it softened the pain of not hearing the words she’d so desperately hoped he would say.
I love you.
She should tell him first, she thought. She should tell him first.