Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2)

by James, Judith

  Charles placed an arm around her shoulders and for some reason the overly familiar public gesture made her feel slightly embarrassed. She fought the urge to shrug him off. The captain stepped forward. His face looked grim, as if he were in the presence of something distasteful. She flushed, surprised at her awkward reaction. What did she care what a disapproving stranger thought? Her life was full of them. Let him think what he pleased.

  Unaccustomed modesty overcome, she greeted her new guest with a playful smile. “Welcome, Captain Nichols. It’s an honor to have you join us for an evening of celebration. Please treat our home as if it were your own.” She held out her hand, forcing him to kiss it.

  He tucked the hat he was holding under his arm and took her dainty hand in his large one. His fingers were cool beneath her own and his breath warmed her skin as his lips brushed her knuckles. Two of his fingers lingered a moment, pressing the soft underside of her wrist. She shivered and pulled her hand away, filled with dangerous new sensations. He rose to his full height. A stray lock of hair had escaped its bounds, softening his features.

  “It’s very kind of you, madam, to welcome a stranger so warmly.”

  His rich voice was deep and mellow. She raised her eyes to his. He was regarding her intently. Riveted, she returned his searching gaze. Despite a reassuring air of competence and strength he struck her as a troubled soul. His eyes were green. A haunting shade of olive green with flecks of black and silver. She imagined loneliness and sorrow and great pain hidden in their depths. She blinked and looked away, intensely aware of him. He was a very handsome man.

  “Hope, my dear. We have duties to attend. It’s time you escort me to greet our other guests. Then everyone can relax and enjoy the evening.”

  Released from whatever spell that had bound her, Hope stepped back to the relative safety of Charles’s arms. For one wistful moment, she wished she was a virtuous seductress. The kind with whom men fell and stayed in love.

  “Can you muddle about on your own for a space, Captain?”

  “I expect I can manage it, Your Majesty.”

  ~

  Robert watched with cold admiration as his new friend the king took the arm of yet another beautiful mistress. She wore a distinctive gown with a deep-purple skirt, flower-embroidered petticoats and black stomacher. It captured the eye and drew attention to her trim waist and the sway of her hips as she walked. Surprisingly, given who her lover was, the only ornaments she wore were a floral crown of willow, violets and ivy with one errant green sprig trailing down her cheek, and a few stray flowers woven into her hair.

  Hope Mathews. He’d heard of her. The orange girl who’d leapt from the stage and stormed the palace to become His Majesty’s “country miss.” She was finer than he’d expected. Neither coarse nor vulgar, quite charming in fact, and a breathtaking natural beauty. With soft creamy skin, a full pouting mouth and a luxurious mass of rippling waist-length black hair, she had no need of enhancement, but it was those eyes that had stopped him dead in his tracks and held him captive. Arresting eyes full of secrets, glowing violet then blue, beneath full sweeping lashes.

  He marveled at his own unaccustomed whimsy and reminded himself that despite those delicate wrists and wounded eyes she was no pure and innocent waif. She was a royal courtesan, possibly more striking than her court-bred rival and definitely fit for a king. Creatures such as she exuded a powerful sexual allure. They were meant to be enticing. Yet she looked like a wild thing sprung from the forest, her smile enchanted like a warm summer’s night, and he hadn’t expected to be quite so…entranced.

  She looked back at him from over her shoulder as if she had heard his thoughts. A few sprigs of greenery escaped her crown and tangled in her hair. His breath quickened and he felt an unaccustomed twinge of longing. For a moment, everything went still around him and there was only him and the girl. He tilted his head in a slight bow and she answered with a sunny smile and the merry mischievous eyes. He couldn’t help a slight chuckle. Whatever she was, the lass had lightened his spirit like nothing had done in a very long while. Definitely not an innocent waif, but perhaps a wayward elf.

  CHAPTER NINE

  William de Veres surveyed the room, looking for his errant wife. She’d been anxious and irritable most of the day. Her precious captain had met with her good friend the king and she awaited news of her meddling. Ah! There she was. At a table with George Villiers, playing cards. Good! He’s blind drunk, has a full purse, and is peering down her cleavage. At least she’s gainfully employed. He was half convinced if they hadn’t married, she’d have gone on to a spectacular career as a first class sharper. He ambled over to the table and leaned against her shoulder.

  “The time which should be kindly lent

  To plays and witty men,

  In waiting for a knave is spent,

  Or wishing for a ten.

  “You’re uncommon fond of this pursuit, love. Wouldn’t you rather watch the wildlife? Charles has arrived, and things are beginning to get interesting. Look...over there. A tribe of curates, priests, and canonical elves—and over there your surly captain.”

  “Where?” Elizabeth dropped her cards and sat straight up, looking all about her. “How do you know who he is? You’ve never met him.”

  “I’m assuming he’s that rather large fellow who came in with Charles a few moments ago carrying an ungodly sword that might be Excalibur and walking as if he has a pike shaft stuck up his—”

  “Hush! If he’s very handsome and taller than you, then yes, that’s him. Where did he go? Things must have gone remarkably well don’t you think, if Charles invited him here?” She stood up, then stood on her toes, her hands clutching William’s shoulders for balance. “I don’t see him.”

  “Here now, de Veres,” Buckingham protested hotly. “Don’t spirit her off before I have the chance to recoup my losses!”

  “I am saving you from ruin, George. It’s really very kind of me.” He offered Elizabeth his arm. “Come along, little bird. Our prey has eluded us. Somehow I had the impression he was a meek, bookish, rustic kind of fellow but he looks like a bloody North Seas marauder, or perhaps the savior of Britain. He certainly looks like a fellow well able to take care of himself. You’re a naughty girl, Lizzy de Veres.”

  “I’m sorry, Will,” she said with a crooked grin. “The only man whose looks I pay attention to is you.”

  “Well...he shouldn’t be hard to find. Unless he’s hit his head on a beam and is stretched out cold on the floor.”

  “William!” Her outrage was laced with laughter and he gave her a tight hug. “Who is the woman with Charles? The one who greeted us when we arrived?”

  He followed her gaze and smiled to see a dark-haired beauty whose free mannerisms, unruly curls and ready grin were making the gentlemen smile and some of the women speak to one another behind their gaily feathered fans.

  “That, my love, is Hope Mathews. She is another of his mistresses, and this is where he keeps her. She is his hostess for this evening.”

  “She seems different from his usual conquests.” Elizabeth felt a stab of empathy. The malicious looks from the ladies and the barely concealed lust of the gentlemen reminded her of her first days at court as one who didn’t belong.

  “She is. She comes from the ranks of orange girls at the theatre. I believe she’s even trod the stage herself. She puts the ladies out of sorts and is considered scandalously improper. Titled whores are one thing. They are born and bred to court. Miss Mathews' mother was a brothel owner. Most would consider it rather shocking to see her welcome at something like this, let alone hosting it. Given her humble beginnings, he won’t be able to keep her here once Portugal arrives.”

  “Portugal has a name.” Elizabeth stepped on his foot and he encircled her waist, heedless of the disapproving looks.

  “Queen Catherine, then, if it pleases you. And you’ll have to eat a great many more pastries before your dainty heel makes any sort of impression on me.”

  “She l
ooks so happy right now. What will become of her, do you think?”

  “If he’s tired of her, he’ll give her gifts and pass her to another man. If he’s not, which I rather suspect, she’s a rare beauty and it seems he keeps her close, he’ll hide her somewhere and visit her when he can. Now look over in that corner, Lizzy. There is your captain standing like an oak amongst the potted plants, and heading this way is our king. Let us sally forth and see what wonders you have wrought.”

  ~

  Robert commanded a quiet alcove in a corner of the salon. It was a relief to leave the reception room behind him. He had no idea why any sane person would line a room from wall to wall and floor to ceiling with mirrors. When he first walked in the whirl of gaudy colors and bewigged heads had left him feeling nauseous and faintly dizzy. He wondered how those who drank too much, ever found the door.

  The stir around the king had diminished somewhat. The courtiers had made their greetings, the king had accepted them, and now everyone seemed intent on enjoying themselves. Several sat at tables playing hazard and basset, and people streamed in and out of the dining room eating when and what they pleased. The Duke of Buckingham and the charming Mistress Mathews preformed a skit in the salon. He thought it somewhat childish but others seemed to find it uproariously funny. He hid his impatience. He didn’t like surprises and had yet to discern why he was here.

  It was a pleasant surprise to see Elizabeth across the room, though. He hadn’t seen her since she’d left London close to a year ago. By the looks of it, her husband was back in favor. He was deep in conversation with the king. Elizabeth kept smiling and beckoning for him to come join them, but Lord Rivers had a grip on her arm as strong as the one he used to keep on his drink. He looked up from his conversation from time to time and his eyes held a possessive gleam and what looked like a warning.

  It was enjoyable to watch them. A touch on the arm, a whisper in the ear, private looks that spoke volumes, their intimacy was palpable. It warmed him to see it. And it made him jealous. Was it Elizabeth I craved…or simply to feel something like that?

  His own word seemed grey and muted in comparison. No great highs. No great lows. No vivid emotions except when cheating death. It made him a good soldier, and good for little else. Yet on this strange night filled with laughter and music, beautiful seductresses and whimsical kings, old friends and old rivals—the room glowed with color and all that was in it came dancing to life. It almost felt as if he were creaking back to life. He grinned as he watched the king’s lovely courtesan, no longer impatient, for she was the enchantress who’d first cast the spell.

  General Monk, the kingmaker who’d fought for Parliament before turning his talents to engineering Charles Stuart’s return to the throne, stepped forward to greet him.

  “Sir Robert Nichols! What a pleasure it is to see you, sir! You’ve been far too scarce in London as of late.” They exchanged a hearty handshake. “Where have you been, Captain? I’ve been trying to find you.”

  “I have… I had…a small estate in Nottinghamshire, sir. I’ve left the field of battle for fields of grain, and fighting armies for battling floods and heavy rains.”

  “Ah! Indeed, sir. I know it well. One thinks that’s what one wants. Away from the smoke and thunder. At last at little peace. But one grows bored. There’s a longing. Something’s missing and the days take on a sameness that… Do you know what I mean, Robert?”

  “Yes, sir. I do.”

  “As it happens, I may have a cure.”

  “Sir?” Robert felt a keen thrill of anticipation. Could this be why the king had brought him here tonight? To take one thing away but give him another?

  “You’re a superb warrior, Sir Robert, but more importantly for my purpose, you were always a man one could count on to keep a cool head, think for himself and get the job done. How do you like the sound of Colonel Nichols?”

  “I like it, General! I—”

  “General! I see you know our captain.” Charles Stuart came up behind them and embraced them both.

  “I do indeed, sire. He’s a fine soldier. One that I—”

  “And of course you’ve met Lord Rivers. A dear friend from my exile and a war hero himself. Allow me to introduce his lovely wife, Lady Elizabeth.”

  The general bowed and kissed Elizabeth’s hand. “Congratulations, madam. All London has been abuzz about the capture. Only an extraordinary woman could manage such a feat.”

  “Thank you, General. You’re very kind. But I assure you it was William who captured me.” She turned to Robert with a bright smile. “Oh, Robert, it’s so good to see you here! I miss our old visits and I worry about you all alone.”

  Robert greeted them all with a formal bow but Elizabeth threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. As he set her back on her feet he took a quick glance at the handsome poet who had stolen her away. Though de Veres had never met him, he’d seen the man in taverns and coffeehouses on his sojourns to London. There was a brightness to his countenance he hadn’t seen there before.

  The man stepped forward and offered his hand. “Lizzy has told me many times what a comfort you were to her in the past, Captain Nichols. I offer you my thanks for watching over her when I could not.”

  Biting back a scathing reply, Robert managed a polite nod. This was the man who had put her in danger in the first place.

  General Monk put a hand on his shoulder as if reclaiming ownership. “If it pleases you, Your Majesty, Sir Robert is a mighty fine soldier. I’ve a proposition to put to him regarding the Coldstream Guard.”

  “Ah, reunions. Aren’t they grand? I had no idea the captain knew so many of my friends. But I’m afraid it will have to wait, General. In fact, I must ask you all to excuse us. As it happens the captain and I have business to discuss before the dancing begins. Will you forgive us?”

  A beaming Elizabeth curtsied while the general and William responded with a bow. His Majesty put a companionable arm around Robert’s shoulder, led him into a small, dark paneled study, and closed and locked the door. He motioned for him to sit, and then poured them both a drink.

  “Well, Captain. You’re doubtless wondering why you are here.”

  “Indeed, Majesty, I am.”

  “It is that tyrant Elizabeth de Veres’ doing. I am fond of her of course, but she’s been very cross with me for taking your lands.”

  Robert clenched and unclenched his fists. “She had no business discussing it with you. I had not thought of her connection to you, nor did I seek her aid. I thought, as an old friend, she was discrete.” His voice was stiff. His words clipped.

  Charles threw back his head and laughed. “Captain! You are a warrior, sir, and know little of the ways of women. Now you must accustom yourself to softer things. They are weaker than us physically, but any man who things them weaker in other ways, doesn’t know them at all. I, sir, make a study of them. I know them and love them very well.

  “So one hears, sire. Might I ask your point?”

  “Some women were born to be generals. Elizabeth is one such, as I’m certain you know, and she has chosen to champion your cause. You mustn’t be annoyed with her. She feels loyalty and affection for you. She values you enough to ask me to return your lands, and I value her enough to have thought on it. It is a great inconvenience of course. I shall have to find other lands for Lord Harris, though he was very keen on having yours.”

  “Jonathan Harris? A bald man?”

  “Yes, that’s him. Do you know him? I swear you’ve met every soul in London.”

  Robert bared his teeth in a cold smile. “I expect that I have crossed his path during the wars.” A thrill of ice ran through his veins. The hunt was on! The man he chased now circled his home. Did the hunted think to become the hunter? Or was there some divine plan at work? Whatever happened, Harris must not be allowed to walk the halls of Cressly.

  “Doubtless, you did. He fought for whichever side swung to his advantage. Royalist, Parliament, and then Royalist once more. I’m not terri
bly fond of him. Such men can’t be trusted. But there is a matter of politics involved. He is a useful man, much needed at the moment. You were an honest soldier, Captain, and a very good one. The general speaks highly of you. A commission for you, based on his recommendation, is something I’ve considered, but I’ve a problem you can help with and the solution I have in mind should aid us both. If you agree to it, you will keep your lands and I will add the adjacent ones which are currently vacant as well.”

  “And how can I be of service to Your Majesty?”

  “ Please, call me Charles.”

  “What is it you want from me…Charles?”

  “I want you to marry my mistress.”

  Robert covered his shock by downing his drink. Had he heard the man correctly? “You want me to marry your mistress?”

  “Yes. Hope Matthews. The one I brought you to meet this evening. She’s a charming little thing. I’m very fond of her. But I am to be married soon, Captain. The court already cavils at her presence. Her social status is such that—”

  “She is the one they call the orange girl? The one who was born in a brothel?”

  The king stiffened. “They may call her what they like. I assure you, she’s far more innocent and has a finer character than many of the ladies here at court.”

  “I don’t understand, Your Majesty. Why would you ask such a thing of me?”

  “As I said, I am to be married soon. My bride will be on English soil, three weeks hence. No doubt you’ve noticed the preparations. Hope is very dear to me but she is not of a fit social status to be accepted in the presence of my queen. If my court is to accept my will in this, it must be made palatable. A married mistress is far more acceptable than an unmarried one, and a titled lady far more acceptable than a street waif.”

  “Can you not simply give her a title?”

  “For her service to the crown?” The king chuckled heartily and poured them both another drink. “She has been a better friend to me than many who are more amply rewarded, but that I cannot do. Not without turning my court upside down and sending my wife in a fury back to Portugal. England needs this marriage. I can’t give her a title.” He pointed a long finger at Robert. “But you can. Appearances matter here, Captain. The play is the thing. She must marry a title and leave court for a while. Until after the wedding and matters are settled between my wife and my maîtresse-en-titre. Then she may returned as a married lady—”