They look at me as if I was a tame bear,” William grumbled to Elizabeth.
Her heart skipped a beat. She wondered, for just a moment, if he’d feel the need to prove them wrong. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. It had been close to a year, and he had earned her trust.
Catching her eye, he reached for a drink, his lips twisted in a dangerous smile, but she pointedly ignored him. Satisfied, he took the time to savor it. Chocolate, smoke, cedar wood, the aroma and taste lingered. It was meant to be experienced through all its layers, much like a fine poem. He wondered what other heady pleasures he’d missed in a hazy drift to oblivion. But I didn’t miss her.
He reached for Elizabeth and pulled her close. “Why are we here again? Ah, yes. We must arrange another meeting for you with our gracious king, your old beau, so we might save your gallant captain, another old beau. I swear, little bird, you delight in giving me competition. Look. Here he comes now.”
“Please be nice, William. You know I’m fond of him, and so are you. And I am here to ask a favor.”
“You expect me to help you rescue a rival, and now you wish me to be nice? I fail to see what amusement there is in this for me.”
She reached up to slide her fingers through his hair, caressing the back of his neck. He bent his forehead to hers and she whispered, “You have no rival, William, and as to what amusement there is for you… you’ll learn of it tonight.”
“William! Elizabeth! How are you, my dears? What a pleasure it is to see you both returned to the fold. I expect things to be much more entertaining now the two of you have joined us.” Stepping between them, Charles Stuart clapped his arms about their shoulders and gave them both an enthusiastic hug.
“Come. I’ve been eager to show you some of the wedding preparations. You in particular, Elizabeth. I remember how taken you were by our last grand masque. My bride arrives at Portsmouth and we will sail down the Thames on a magnificent barge. Some of the decorations are being readied here on the palace grounds.”
His enthusiasm and long stride swept them through a crowd of courtiers before either had a chance to respond. He ushered them into a bustling workshop where a swarm of busy artisans and workers were carving and gilding, painting and brazing. There were giant thrones and arches, water-spouting seahorses and Poseidons, and magnificent mechanical unicorns and lions that reared and roared.
“Well...? What do you think of it, Will?”
It took William a moment to respond. “If your bride tends to garishness and excess she’ll be transported.”
“All of England will be transported. The barge will be the centerpiece of a grand flotilla. It will herald a new era for England. We make great gains through this marriage. A fresh start, William, yes? You have had yours it seems.” Charles smiled warmly at Elizabeth and she gave him a brilliant smile in return. He tore his gaze away and turned back to William. “Do you remember all our dreams, Will?”
His voice sounded wistful and William bit back a pointed reply. “I do, Your Majesty. I hope this marriage brings you more than lands and access to the Mediterranean. I hope it brings you some of the joy Lizzy and I have found.”
“Thank you. I am delighted you both came. One wants his friends around him on occasions such as this. Have you missed us here at court?”
“My fair damsel has lured me to a newfound shore, where I find myself in imminent danger of sobriety. It changes ones perspective and—”
“God’s blood, man! What evil witchery is this? You may be sure I shall do all I can to effect a rescue. Elizabeth, what can you be thinking? I let you have him in the full expectation you would bring him safely home.”
“And I have done so, Majesty.’
“Hah! You have usurped his attentions and stolen him away like a fairie of old. Well, no matter. There is plenty of time before the wedding. I’ve some rooms set aside I think you’ll enjoy. No doubt the many enchantments of London will soon recapture you both.”
“There is also a matter Elizabeth would like to discuss, Charles.”
“Yes, of course, my dears. People always have something to discuss. But first, dear Will, I would speak with you.”
~
Elizabeth watched with a smile as the king and her husband engaged in a lengthy tête à tête. They had a bond of friendship stretching back to the beginnings of Charles exile and she was glad to see them reconcile.
“Lady de Veres…What brings you back to court?”
Elizabeth turned in surprise. The greeting was almost civil. “His Majesty does, Lady Castlemaine.”
The two woman stood in awkward silence for a moment. Lady Castlemaine spoke first. “You would be wise to leave him be. He is mine.”
“I rather thought he was his Queen’s. Or soon will be.”
“That changes nothing. She is an accoutrement, like his scepter and robes of state.”
“I hope not, for her sake, poor lady.”
“You will see the truth of it soon enough. Why are you here? What do you want from Charles?”
“I am here because he invited me. What I want is between he and I.”
“How did you manage to trap William into marriage?”
“He trapped me. He acted the highwayman and kidnapped me and took me to his home.”
She snorted. “You lie!”
Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “My lady Castlemaine, I very much doubt that you or Charles will ever understand what passes between William and I. Suffice it to say, I am no threat to you. William is the man I love and I want no other. And you are no threat to me. I have what I want and you cannot take it from me. We are here for the wedding and then we’ll go home, so let’s avoid hostilities and call truce.”
“Are you really in love with him?”
“Deeply. Madly. Gloriously. Do you not feel the same for Charles?”
“Are you insane? To do so would ruin me, for he would never feel the same. I daresay I’ve never felt that for anyone. And you think Lord Rivers feels this…this fool’s emotion for you?”
“I know he does.”
“Such self deception leaves you open to deep wounds, my dear. One almost pities you.” For once, she spoke without malice.
“And such coldness and calculation will leave you unloved and alone. One almost pities you.”
This unaccustomed exchange, more curious than rancorous, left them both uncomfortable. When a page ran up a moment later with a note for Elizabeth, they were both relieved. Lady Castlemaine nodded and hastily withdrew.
~
Elizabeth sat on His Majesty’s bed, her back comfortably settled against a mound of gold-braided cushions, with a spaniel asleep on her lap. Charles’ penchant for conducting most of his audiences in his bedchamber had shocked her the first time, but now it felt comfortable, like visiting an old friend.
“Do you remember your last visit here?”
“I shall never forget it. It’s a story I’ll tell and none will believe me when I am grown old.”
“But William does.”
“Yes. William does.”
“By God, Madam! He married you. Why did you not invite me?”
“You ordered him arrested for treason, Charles. I thought, at first, you were going to imprison him.
“Oh I was going to. For nearly an hour. But the idea of you trying to redeem him proved far more entertaining. Better than your plans to open a bakeshop, eh?” He nudged her foot and grinned. “Yet you denied me the dénouement.”
“Well, you had ordered him gone from England. It didn’t seem politic at the time.”
Charles waived his hand dismissively. “That was to keep him from court and allow you time to properly manage him. Well done, by the way.”
“I have to thank you, Charles, for writing to say that we might consider Maidstone as France.”
“You’re quite welcome, my dear. Are you tired of one another yet?”
“You are incorrigible. We are more in love than ever. Doesn’t your Queen arrive within the
month?”
“Ah yes! I have a picture.” He reached for a drawer beside his bed and pulled out a small miniature. “What do you think?”
“It’s rather hard to see, but she has beautiful eyes.”
“Yes, I think so, too. I’ve seen a larger portrait. She is pretty enough as princesses go, though her teeth are somewhat protruding and her hair is arranged on the top of her head, much like the wings of a bat. She looks to have a pleasant smile though, which I hope indicates a pleasing personality. She also brings me four hundred thousand crowns in jewels, free trade with Brazil and the East Indies, and the ports of Bombay and Tangier.”
“I am glad to hear you mention her smile before extolling her holdings.”
He shrugged, and poured her a glass of wine and one for himself. “But that’s not why you’re here. One or another of my ladies is always annoyed with me, though I’m such a sunny fellow. I recognize the look. Out with it, Elizabeth. What is it you wish to discuss?”
“Very well. You have taken away the holdings of my dear friend, Captain Robert Nichols, despite your general amnesty and the fact he has been living there peacefully since your restoration. I can’t believe he has done anything to deserve it. He is an honorable man. Gallant, kind, and brave.”
Charles held up a hand to stop her. “Robert Nichols…Robert Nichols. The name is familiar. Does he have property in Nottinghamshire?”
“Yes, he does.”
“I did ask Clarendon to find some land for a fellow whose fundraising and…other connections have been vital to the crown. He told me the man specifically requested the lands in question. Does your captain have any useful relatives or connections at court? Besides you?”
“Not that I’m aware of, Charles. He was a Parliamentarian soldier and country gentleman. A baronet, I believe.
“And what concern is he to you?”
“He intervened with Cromwell when I was arrested, and argued for me on my behalf. Without his help, I would have been transported or hanged.”
“The devil you say! You have quite the knack for landing in deep waters, Elizabeth. But what a pretty tale. Quite diverting. A modest gentleman of chivalrous character on a country estate, desperate to keep his lands. Is he handsome?”
“Well…yes,” Elizabeth answered, rather flustered. “But, Charles, that has nothing to do with why I’m asking.”
“No, no. Of course not. If you were the type to be turned by a pretty face you would have surely chosen me.”
They both laughed and Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with affection. “You are a very attractive man, Charles Stuart, and you know it well.”
He grinned and raised his glass to her in salute. “But not as attractive as that damned impertinent poet. You’ve quite ruined him, you know. He’ll be spouting love verses soon.”
Elizabeth blushed and hid her face against the spaniel’s silky coat.
“Tell me more about him. Your captain friend. Is he married? I might have a use for him if he’s not too proud.”
“Well, no, he isn’t married, but he is rather proud—”
“Excellent! This is good news indeed, Elizabeth. I thank you for bringing it to my attention. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must speak with Clarendon at once. There’s little time to lose. I look forward to seeing you and William at the ball tonight.”
Charles hurried his stunned and sputtering guest from the room and called for his chief minister. He was delighted. With Elizabeth’s help, he had hit on the perfect solution. He would grant her request. The honorable captain of whom she spoke so highly would keep his lands, see his holdings doubled, and be made an earl besides—provided he marry Hope Mathews. He had only to remove her to the country, treat her with all courtesy and comfort befitting a special friend of the king, and return her to court when the time was right.
The message went out shortly after the chancellor entered the royal chambers. Captain Robert Nichols was ordered to present himself at court at once.
CHAPTER SIX
Cressly
He approached the manor house across a pristine field veiled by a thin dusting of snow. The air was cold and sharp to breathe, but Kate Bishop the dairy maid had kissed him, and he didn’t feel the cold.
The moment his parents left to visit his uncle he’d hurried to the village to stand vigil by her door. His patience had been rewarded. He caught her first, and claimed her as his Valentine, blushing as he offered her a pretty blue paper with her name writ on it in gold. He’d labored over it for hours in secret, knowing his parents would not approve. It was well worth the effort. She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him, and it warmed him all the way home.
He stopped in the middle of the field, as happy as he’d ever been in all his twelve years. The woods were still. The silence so deep he could hear the excited beating of his own heart. And then a distant shriek. A night owl, he thought, desperately hungry to be searching for food so late. He heard it again. A panicked scream, coming from the manor house. Caroline!
He raced through the field and skidded across the stone-flagged courtyard, only to be brought short by the sight of five blooded horses wandering loose in front of a smashed and broken door. Heart pounding, his terror for Caroline a sick lump in his throat, he eased into the entrance hall and inched his way along the corridor. The servants must have fled or hidden and there was no sign of his father’s men at arms. As he neared the drawing room he heard Caroline sobbing, and the sound of hoarse shouts and the laughter of drunken men.
He leaned against the doorjamb and peered around the corner. The drawing room was littered with broken furniture, shredded hangings, and paintings that had been torn from the walls. A lone man at arms with a sword in his back lay sprawled across a table. Caroline huddled in a corner in a tight little ball. Her dress was ripped, her favorite blue ribbons were torn from her hair and her face was bloody, bruised and beaten. For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick.
There were five men wearing the brightly colored garb and plumed hats that marked them as His Majesty’s cavaliers, but under their elegant trappings, they reeked of unwashed clothes and alcohol. They were ignoring Caroline for now, tapping at walls with the butts of their swords and digging at the floorboards. He considered darting in, grabbing her and making a run for it, but he didn’t even know if she could walk. He should have been there to protect her. He wished he had a way to let her know she wasn’t alone.
The guilt, the terror, the boiling rage at seeing Caroline so abused gave way to icy calm. His breathing slowed, his heart steadied and his attention focused to a razor’s edge as he assessed his opponents. A bullet-headed man next to Caroline, without his sword. A handsome black-haired man dressed finer than the rest, commanding the center of the room. A rat-faced fellow and a blond man with a split lip knocking on walls, and a bookish-looking fellow with a wickedly curved dagger poking at floorboards in the corner. He observed each in turn before slipping past the doorway and continuing down the hall.
The longsword was mounted on the wall in his father’s study. He’d eyed it many a time, fascinated by its lethal beauty and the chilling inscription etched into the blade. Lex Talionis, the law of revenge.
The blue steel blade snicked and hissed as he slid it from its mounting. Gripping the wolfs head pommel with both hands he laid the weapon cross-shoulder and went back for his sister. He arrived just in time to see the bullet-headed man grab Caroline by her arm and wrench her to her feet. His fingers itched and he brought his weapon forward, silent, shifting his grip so he held it like a spear for stabbing. Not yet, though. He waited for them to turn away.
“Come, little mistress.” The man gave Caroline a shake. “Tell us where it is, or what you’ve heard, and we’ll leave you in peace to play with your dollies.”
“Speak for yourself, Harris,” the blond man said. “She’s too old for dolls, that one, and we’ve other things she can play with.”
Bullet-head shook her again, and then fisted his hand in what remained
of her dress and lifted her of the ground, so her feet had to scrabble for purchase. “Is that right, pretty mistress? You want to play games?” he cooed.
Caroline was sobbing and pleading, fighting for air as the collar of her dress cut off her breath, trying to tell them she didn’t know. She didn’t understand what they wanted.
“Get on with it, gentlemen,” the black-haired one snapped, apparently more sober than the rest. “There’s militia in the area. We haven’t all day. It’s clear she knows nothing. Finish her, Johnny, and let’s be gone.”
“Well, that’s a bloody waste of an evening,” Johnny Harris protested. “I’ve got a use for her if the rest of you don’t. Move on if you please, lads. I shan’t be long.”
“Pah,” Golden Hair spat. “Let’s all have a go, then. ’Tis only sporting. “ He joined the one named Johnny and yanked at her skirt.
Caroline began a desperate struggle, clawing and kicking.
“Enough, you damn fools,” the man with the curved blade shouted. “If I have to I’ll cut her throat myself.” He rose and started in her direction, and there was no more time left.
The force that held him frozen loosened its grip. It was as if time had stopped, trapping him outside it, only letting him observe—then started again so that everything came at him in a rush. He raised his sword high over his head and it was then that Caroline saw him. Their eyes locked for an instant, hers horrified, imploring, trying to give him some message but it was lost in the commotion as he charged. He barreled forward with all his strength, screaming his fury, his target the man approaching her with the knife.
Slow and sodden and unprepared, his target wheeled too late, his curved blade just nicking his young attacker’s cheek before the longsword caught him through the belly and impaled him against the wall.
Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) Page 6