In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  He nodded. "So if his lordship has given you his leave to abandon all household drudgeries, why not do some of those things? There's a superb library here at Bassett Hall, and surely his lordship has a backgammon board." He frowned. "London is not the place for a lady to ride, but perhaps one day I could escort you outside the city . . . if his lordship is otherwise occupied." Griffin plucked his chin thoughtfully. "As for the gardening . . ." He threw open his arms with a flourish. "What of here?"

  Julia glanced at the dry fountain in the center of the glass-walled atrium. Vines had grown up its sides and filled the stone basin. It smelled of rotting vegetation and stagnant water. "Here?"

  "My cousin has never expressed any interest in flora or herbage, though I'm surprised he allows it to remain so untidy."

  She smiled at his jest, but didn't dare laugh at her betrothed's expense. "I wondered the same."

  "His lordship actually only recently came to Bassett Hall—one of his last acquisitions before Cromwell died. Before then, he was living in a smaller home nearer to the palace. There, and at one of his country houses whenever the armies grew restless. I suppose Bassett Hall's previous owners were remiss in caring for their orangery—probably too busy worrying over whether or not they would keep their heads," he finished drolly.

  The thought of all the political upheaval her country had experienced in the last twenty years was sobering. "It looks as if it's been years since these trees have been pruned," she said wistfully.

  "It would be a mighty task." He glanced at her as if to ask if she was up to it.

  Julia grinned. "Do you think it would be all right. I . . . I suppose I'd have to ask his lordship."

  He propped one foot on the edge of the dry fountain and gave a wave. "Simeon won't mind. He's given you a monthly purse to spend as you wish, hasn't he? I say, do it. Hire a gardener and get to work."

  Slowly Julia turned around, her imagination already at work. It would take time, money, and labor, but the orangery really could be beautiful with time and care. "It would be a challenge."

  "One I'm sure you're up to."

  She smiled up at him. She hadn't been this happy since she'd arrived at Bassett Hall. "Thank you."

  He lowered his leg from the fountain and moved his hand toward her. For a moment she thought he might touch her, but then he lowered his hand to his side.

  "Ah, 'tis nothing." He spoke in the high-pitched voice she'd heard before. "Just promise me your first orange." He swaggered on his tiptoes down the flagstone pathway toward the house.

  "We have a bargain," she called as she watched him until he disappeared. It felt so good to have a friend at last, for she had the feeling she'd definitely made a friend in Griffin.

  Chapter Four

  "Oh, Lizzy, couldn't I come later?"

  "Not later. Now."

  Julia's sister dragged her down the back hall toward the kitchen. The passageway smelled strongly of lye soap and wet wood.

  "You have to see Sally," Lizzy continued. "That's what I named her because Amos said she didn't have a name, and everyone should have a name."

  Julia couldn't resist a smile. It gave her such pleasure to see Lizzy happy, even if it was only a hound that gave her that happiness. "And who is Amos?"

  "The cook. He lets Sally in the back door of the kitchen and feeds her scraps of food because she's going to have puppies." Lizzy lowered her voice to a loud whisper as a child would. "Only don't tell, because the master would be angry if he knew his kidney pie was being fed to a dog." She frowned and crinkled her forehead, obviously mimicking someone, "Kidney pie isn't for dogs, only the master."

  Evidently someone had explained the situation to Lizzy, probably this cook she was talking about. Julia knew it wasn't wise for Lizzy to become too friendly with the servants, but what harm would come of it as long as Simeon didn't find out? The poor girl. She needed someone to talk to, and it certainly wasn't as if she'd be making friends with one of St. Martin's many guests.

  Lizzy opened the kitchen door. "She's right in here, unless Amos let her out to piddle. No piddling in the kitchen, that's our rule."

  "Lizzy." One of the kitchen maids turned to them as she wiped her floury hands on her apron. When she spotted Julia, her smile fell and she dipped a deep curtsy. "Lady Julia."

  "Lady Julia. Lady Julia," the other servants in the kitchen echoed as they dropped what they were doing and curtsied.

  "Amos! Lady Julia is here," one of the girls called as if she were sounding an alarm rather than making an introduction.

  A tall man with a pocked face and a knit cap perched on his blond head appeared from around the corner of a floor-to-ceiling pie safe. "Lady Julia." He bowed.

  "I just brought Sister to see Sally," Lizzy explained, passing the baker. "Have you seen her, Amos?" She brushed her hand against his arm as she passed him.

  Julia knew that her sister could be inappropriately affectionate if permitted to do so, and to touch a servant in such a way was certainly inappropriate. She wondered if she need warn the cook, perhaps all the servants. Maybe they didn't understand how Lizzy was. She'd not see her sister taken advantage of because of her slow mind.

  "The pup were by the fireplace last I saw her," Amos said nervously. His gaze followed Julia as she passed him, behind her sister.

  "Really, Lizzy," Julia laughed. "I've seen hounds before. Father had a pack of them."

  "But you haven't seen Sally! Oh, there she is."

  In front of a stone fireplace, wide and deep enough to place a small carriage inside, Lizzy flopped down on the floor and thrust out her arms.

  A black, brown, and white hunting hound, obviously familiar with her, climbed into her lap.

  "Oh, that's my Sally. That's my girl," Lizzy cooed, smoothing her floppy ears.

  The dog wiggled in her lap and licked at her face with excitement.

  "See, isn't she pretty?" Lizzy stroked the hound's short, spotted coat. "And look at her fat belly. There's puppies inside!"

  Julia rested her hands on her hips and smiled. "She really is a very pretty dog."

  Amos rounded the corner, his clothing dusted free of most of the flour. "I . . . I saved the scraps for you, so you could feed her yourself, Lady Lizzy."

  Lizzy scrunched her nose. "Lady Lizzy? Why are you saying that, Amos? I'm just Lizzy to you. You never call me Lady Lizzy." She laughed. "You sound silly when you say it."

  Julia glanced at the cook, who stared at his holey brown leather shoes. Perhaps they were too familiar with each other. Why else would the cook be looking so guilty? She hated to interfere, but thought she'd better say something to him. "Could I speak with you privately for a moment, Amos?" she asked.

  "A . . . aye, Lady Julia."

  Julia went down on one knee beside Lizzy and scratched the dog behind her ears. "I really do like her, Lizzy. Now don't stay too long in the kitchen. All right?"

  "I won't." Lizzy beamed.

  Julia rose and walked back through the kitchen to the hallway, with Amos following her. She pushed the door closed behind him so the other servants couldn't hear. She wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say, but for Lizzy's sake she felt she needed to say something. "Amos."

  "Lady Julia." He pulled off his knit hat and held it tightly in his flour-dusted hand. She wondered if he had been a handsome man before the pox had scarred his face so severely.

  "Amos, I want you to know how much I appreciate your keeping my sister entertained here in the kitchen with the dog. She's been very lonely since we came to Bassett Hall."

  "Aye, m'lady."

  "But Amos"—she glanced up at him—"I have to ask that you take care with my sister. Though she looks like an adult woman, she's not. Not in her head. She . . . she doesn't understand certain things. Proprieties." She exhaled in frustration. "I'm not saying you can't be friendly with Lizzy, just that . . . that you need to remember that she's—" Julia halted, glanced at the floor, and then back at Amos again. "I won't have anyone take advantage of my sister because
of the weakness in her mind. I won't have it."

  Amos's eyes grew round. "Oh, no. Oh, no, Lady Julia. I wouldn't never do that. I wouldn't never take advantage of Lizzy. She's so sweet and gentle."

  "That she is. That's why I feel like I have to watch out for her. Do you understand, Amos?"

  He ground the toe of his shoe on the floor, his eyes cast downward. "Ye . . . yer saying you don't want Lizzy in the kitchen, Lady Julia?"

  "No. No, I'm not. Although I must admit I'm not sure how my Lord St. Martin would take to the idea." She reached out and gave Amos a squeeze on the arm. He was surprisingly muscular. "I'm just asking that you take care with my sister and not let her sit all day, everyday, at your hearth. It's not seemly."

  "That all?" He looked up, brightening. "Ye mean she can still come oncest in a while?"

  Julia smiled and shrugged. "She loves the dog and she obviously enjoys your company. Why not? Just take care, Amos."

  He nodded his head. "Aye, Lady Julia. Thank ye, Lady Julia."

  Julia walked away from the cook feeling a sense of accomplishment. And since she was in such good spirits at the moment, she thought she might as well pay her betrothed a visit.

  With a scowl, Simeon's secretary allowed Julia entry into his master's apartments.

  "Good morning to you, Gordy," she said cheerfully. "I hope this day finds you well." Despite his obvious good looks, she could barely look him in the eye. There was something about the man that just seemed inherently evil.

  "This way, Lady Julia," Gordy answered stiffly.

  He led her into one of the antechambers of Simeon's bedchamber. The room was bare, save for a few pieces of necessary furniture. The walls were whitewashed and unadorned, the wooden floors obviously recently scrubbed with sand. It smelled of lye soap and garlic, the two scents she was beginning to associate with Simeon.

  The sparse chamber was alive with chatter and movement. Several merchants were displaying their wares of cloth and ribbon, holding up samples for Simeon to study. Because he was such a wealthy, important man, Julia knew that simply being permitted through the doors of Bassett Hall was quite a coup for the merchants.

  Simeon stood on a small stool in the center of the room, his arms extended as a tailor moved on his knees and thrust pins into the hem of the velvet burgundy coat. This was the first time she had ever seen Simeon without his wig. His hair was a medium brown and bristly in a close-cropped style.

  "Good morning, Simeon." Julia nodded, showing respect but also familiarity, and offered an amiable smile.

  Simeon glanced in her direction. She couldn't immediately tell what his mood was.

  "I . . . I had a spare moment so I thought I might visit with you . . . if . . . if you're not too busy." She folded her hands in front of her. She wore one of the gowns he'd given her and had taken great care to be certain every hair she possessed was in place.

  "Spare moment?" He fluttered his hand, heavy with the signet ring that bore his family crest. "As spare as any moment I have, I suppose. Gordy, get Lady Julia a chair and a cup of chocolate."

  "No, no. Thank you." She eyed Gordy who backed away. "Nothing for me. I just wanted to say hello and . . . and ask if you might have some time today. We . . . we could ride; it's a sunny day. Or . . . if you prefer, a game of backgammon. I spotted a fine game board in your office."

  From his place on the stool, Simeon looked down on her as if he were a reigning monarch. "I haven't time for games, madame, nor for senseless riding in circles in the park."

  He spoke his reprimand so loudly that the merchants turned to stare. Julia didn't back down. She was beginning to suspect that Simeon was a bully. Her mother swore all men were with women. This morning she wasn't in the mood to pretend to be a weak female. "I only thought we might spend some time together to get to know each other, my lord. The wedding is fast approaching."

  "Aye. 'Tis. This is my wedding coat. Do you like it?" He turned slowly so that she could fully appreciate the intricate embroidery and fine fabric. "I thought it would look fine with the pink wedding gown I've commissioned for you."

  Pink, Julia thought. Gads. What was it with this man with pink? But she said nothing. The gown was already commissioned; what difference did it make? It was a small concession to her new husband, wasn't it? "A fine coat, Simeon." She stepped closer. "It's really quite handsome on you." She stroked the sleeve, then touched his hand.

  He flinched.

  She withdrew her hand. Sweet heaven, did he really deplore her so greatly that he couldn't stand her touch? What had she done to cause him to dislike her so? Surely the incident with the servant and the glassware couldn't have angered him that greatly.

  Julia took a step back, her frustration bordering on anger. Obviously her attempt at making friends with her betrothed was not going to work. She glanced at the polished wood floor in indecision.

  What did she do now? Retreat? She thought of sweet Lizzy. Then she tried to imagine herself ten years from now in this house . . . with this man. No. She couldn't retreat. She wouldn't.

  Julia raised her head.

  "My lord, if I could speak to you privately." Then, before he could protest, she clapped her hands. "Gentlemen, ladies. Thank you so much for coming, but the earl has completed his purchasing for the day. Anything he has said he will take, can be left. Mr. Gordy will see you are paid for the items my lord has purchased." She pointed to the hallway. "Thank you again. Good day."

  The merchants swept up their bolts of cloth and spools of ribbon and raced for the door, bowing and curtsying as they went.

  The tailor, still on his knees, his mouth still full of pins, stared at Julia in obvious indecision.

  "Sir," Julia said. "If you could just take a stroll down the hallway, I'll be but a moment and then you can complete the hem. I'm certain you'll appreciate his lordship's fine art. There's a Da Vinci just come from Italy directly over the landing of the west staircase."

  "Yes, my lady." The tailor mumbled through his pins. He rose off the floor and backed out of the room behind the merchants.

  Mr. Gordy stood near the doorway, staring at his master.

  Julia knew Simeon was not pleased, but after a moment he waved his hand. "Do as she says. Pay them and bring me coffee. Be certain boiling water has been poured in the cup first and drained off."

  "Yes, my lord."

  Simeon stepped off the stool as the door closed behind Gordy. "For a country girl, you have an air about you," he commented.

  She wished her heart wouldn't pound so. "Thank you."

  He smoothed his short-cropped hair with the heel of one hand. "It was not intended as a compliment."

  "Oh." She glanced down at the floor, then back at him. "I'm sorry. It's just that we never have a moment alone. I think we need time to get to know one another without an audience." Since she was in this far, she decided she might as well take the plunge. If Simeon wasn't going to initiate contact with her, she would do it herself. "For heaven's sake, Simeon." She gestured. "We're going to be wed. Married. Husband and wife. God willing, I will bear your children," she added boldly. "We should know something of each other. Of likes and dislikes . . . of personality."

  "You know what I like." He walked to a window draped in heavy cream brocade that added to the austerity of the chamber.

  The room seemed so isolated to Julia. Like the man.

  "I like order," Simeon said.

  She sighed in frustration. "Sir, forgive my forwardness, but my grandfather taught me to speak my mind. Sir, if you're not interested in me in any manner, why marry me?"

  "You're mine," he said softly as he fingered the drape.

  Confused, she said, "My lord?"

  He turned on his heels. "You are mine," he repeated louder, as if she were half-witted.

  She felt a chill curl up her spine.

  "I signed the betrothal agreement. I agreed to wed you. I fulfill my obligations. You are mine. Don't you understand, woman!"

  Julia took an involuntary step back at
his shout. She didn't understand. But seeing the look on St. Martin's face, she thought she never would. The man was beyond understanding, and no matter what her mother said, he was entirely unlikeable.

  She knotted her hands at her sides. Her first impulse was to just tell him she wanted to break off the betrothal, but a flash of Lizzy's image in her mind made her bite her tongue. The word responsibilities rang in her head. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."

  "Yes, well, no harm done." He turned away from her to wash his already clean hands in a washbowl. "Send Mr. Gordy in, will you?"

  "Yes." She turned away from him.

  "And Julia."

  She turned back. For a moment she thought he would attempt to soften his words.

  Simeon held his hands over the bowl, dripping water. "Tonight. Nine on the strike, in the great hall. Please don't keep my guests waiting."

  She turned away, feeling sick in the pit of her stomach. "Yes, my lord."

  It was nearly three in the morning when Julia finally turned in for the night. She shut the door to her apartment, leaned against it, and closed her eyes. Her feet ached, her eyes were scratchy, and she was tired to the bone. Tired of smiling. Tired of making pleasantries. Tired of pretending to all of Simeon's guests that she and St. Martin were the perfect couple.

  "Saints in heaven, what am I going to do?" she whispered to the dark, tapestry-lined room. In the next room she could hear Lizzy's soft breathing as she slept.

  Julia flipped one high-heeled shoe off her foot and then the other and watched them sail through the air. They each hit the floor with a satisfying clunk. Her hands found the pins of her too tight coiffure and she yanked them out one at a time. Her scalp tingled as she ran her fingers through her loose hair. If it weren't so late, she would call for hot water to soak her throbbing feet.

  Julia's eyes flew open at the sound and vibration of a knock on the door she leaned against. Who could possibly be knocking at this time of morning? Had Simeon thought better of his behavior today and come to apologize? She thought not.