The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3)

by Stella Riley

  Ashley shut his eyes briefly and wondered how he was going to endure a week of this. Constant pain and enforced immobility were bad enough, God knew. But this kind of embarrassment, combined with honeyed smiles and invalid slop, was already making him want to smash something.

  He glared at Jem. ‘Give me that.’

  Mr Barker passed him the bottle. ‘Need a hand, Colonel?’

  This, Ashley didn’t dignify with a reply. He simply snatched the receptacle and proceeded to do what he’d wanted to do for the last half-hour. It gave him nearly as much pleasure as the look on Jem’s face when he handed the bottle back. Then, deciding that he might as well make the most of whatever small moments of enjoyment came his way, he said, ‘Before you take that away … tell me about the fellow last night. Where did you tail him to?’

  ‘Same place you said,’ shrugged Mr Barker. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘A friend.’

  ‘A friend, is it? So he wouldn’t have had nothing to do with what’s happened to you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Going to let his lordship and me in on the details, are you?’

  ‘Later.’ Ashley tried to think, though the persistent fog in his head made it difficult. It was possible that Hyde had set Sir William Brierley on the same trail he himself had been following – though he wasn’t sure why this might be so. And if Will was involved with Lucy Walter on some personal level … well, it would be necessary to discover what that was. Finally, he said, ‘I need to speak to Ned Hyde.’

  ‘Ah. Well, you ain’t going to be doing that for a week or more.’

  ‘It appears not.’

  ‘Can’t his lordship go for you?’

  It was an irritant to Ashley that, though Jem had taken years to address him correctly, he been happily my-lording Francis ever since he’d first learned of his inherited title.

  ‘His lordship is too damned inquisitive for my liking – but it may come to that.’

  ‘And me, Colonel? Do I carry on watching the skirt or start shadowing the eye-patch? Or had I ought to be watching your back instead?’

  Ashley’s head hurt and the agony in his leg was reaching epic proportions. He shut his eyes again and said, ‘Ask me later. Just at the moment, I don’t much care.’

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  TWO

  Ashley dutifully ate his egg under Pauline’s watchful gaze and was then allowed his opium. The pain gradually faded to a dull ache, his brain went fuzzy at the edges and eventually he slept. Pauline ordered Jem to remain within earshot and went downstairs to the kitchen where Athenais appeared to be trying to make a custard.

  ‘It won’t thicken,’ she said, diligently stirring the mixture. ‘I must have done something wrong.’

  ‘Considering that, as we both know, you can’t cook, the thing you did wrong was expecting this time to be any different,’ came the caustic reply. Then, ‘What are you doing down here, anyway? You’re due at the theatre in an hour.’

  ‘I’m not going.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I’ve sent Suzon to Froissart with a note saying I’ve been vomiting and have stomach cramps. I may be unable to appear for several days.’

  ‘Or even a week, perhaps?’

  ‘I would think that very likely,’ agreed Athenais demurely.

  There was a short silence and then Pauline said flatly, ‘No. You are not taking a week away from the theatre to hold Ashley Peverell’s hand. You must be mad even to think of it.’

  ‘He’s ill and he needs me! And Delphine can go on in my place.’

  ‘He’s not ill – he’s just got a hole in his leg which will mend well enough given time. And he doesn’t need you specifically. I can take time off more easily than you, should Francis, Jem and your father prove inadequate.’

  Athenais shook her head and her mouth took on a stubborn line. Abandoning the still runny custard, she said, ‘That’s not the point. He’s been hurt because of me. Oh – he hasn’t said it and he won’t – but there’s only one reason that I can see why he’d be set upon like that. It’s bloody d’Auxerre, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’d say so. I heard Monsieur de Bergerac telling Francis that one of the assailants was Henri de Vauvallon – who, as we know, trails after the Marquis like a puppy.’

  ‘Vauvallon?’ echoed Athenais incredulously. ‘That popinjay? I’ll kill him!’

  ‘Cyrano already has,’ Pauline told her dryly. ‘But let’s stick to the point. None of this is a good enough reason to let Froissart down. Take today, since you’ve already told him – but tomorrow you should go back to work.’

  ‘I can’t. And it would be no good if I did because I can’t concentrate while Ashley is ill.’ She looked up, her expression tortured. ‘I thought he was going to die, Pauline.’

  ‘I understand that. But --’

  ‘No. I don’t think you do. I love him … and last night I found out how much. I know he may not feel that way about me but it doesn’t matter. If something happens to him – especially if something happens to him because of me – I don’t know how I shall bear it.’ She spread her hands in a half-helpless, half-apologetic gesture. ‘So, although it may be stupid and completely illogical, I’m not leaving this house until he’s better. And now I’m going upstairs with a fresh jug of water for when he wakes.’

  * * *

  Having sent Mr Barker to fetch one of the Colonel’s shirts and then dismissed him, Athenais sat down and watched Ashley sleep. The absurdly long lashes which, but for the strong, clear lines of cheek and jaw, might have looked feminine, rested like gold-tipped shadows; the thick fair hair was rumpled and untidy, making her want to brush it from his brow; and one of his hands lay lax at his side, the fingers curved over the open palm. She ached to touch him but she didn’t. His breathing was even, if a little heavy; and sleep would not only help him heal but also provide some respite from the pain.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, watching and thinking. But at some point in the late afternoon, he eventually stirred and opened his eyes, blinking a little in an attempt to come fully awake.

  Without speaking, Athenais filled a cup with water and handed it to him. Then, when he had drained it and she moved to replace it on the table, he said, ‘What have you done to your hand?’

  It was bruised from the pressure of his fingers and still rather stiff.

  She shrugged and said, ‘It’s nothing. Just a silly accident. How do you feel?’

  ‘Odd.’ His brain felt muffled, as though his head was stuffed with something fluffy. His leg, unfortunately, was already wide awake and screaming. ‘The opium, I suppose.’ He ran a hand over his face. ‘God, I need a shave.’

  ‘You do.’ She swallowed, wondering how his stubble would feel against her mouth. ‘But it will wait until tomorrow, won’t it?’

  ‘Not if I’m to start feeling human again. A bath would also not go amiss.’

  ‘A bath won’t be possible but I can certainly bring water for you to wash.’ She stood up. ‘As to the shave – shall I call Jem?’

  ‘No. I’d like to keep my features intact, so I’m not letting Jem near my face with a razor. And since there’s nothing wrong with either my hands or my eyesight, I’m fully capable of shaving myself – if you’ll be so good as to bring me the necessary gear.’ He gave her a sardonic smile. ‘You have my word that I won’t use your absence to dance a jig.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Placing the shirt on the bed where he could reach it, she said awkwardly, ‘I assumed you’d want something to wear and Jem said you don’t … you don’t have a nightshirt.’

  ‘From which you’ll have deduced that I sleep in the buff.’ He paused, suddenly all too aware of his nakedness beneath the covers and pierced by the memory of possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life. Keeping his tone light and even slightly bored, he said, ‘Not the best idea at the moment, perhaps. Or then again, since you’ve already viewed the goods, maybe it doesn’t matter.’

  Hot colour sta
ined her cheeks.

  ‘It wasn’t deliberate! You make it sound as if I – I …’ She stopped, unable to think of how to phrase it.

  He shrugged. ‘Pauline said you were staring. No … gawking.’

  ‘Pauline says a lot of things. I was not gawking! I was shocked. I hadn’t expected …’ She stopped again, catching the look in his eye and suddenly aware that he was deliberately provoking her. ‘You want me to say I’m sorry? I won’t. You are being utterly unreasonable and I don’t think I have anything to apologise for. And now I’ll get some hot water and your razor.’

  Ashley watched her leave the room with her nose in the air and a martial spring in her step. He smiled to himself. Baiting her was easy, enjoyable and effective. If he hoped, during the course of the next week, to maintain the status quo, it was something worth remembering.

  She returned with a large pot of hot water, soap, towels and his shaving gear.

  Watching her haul the heavy pot, he felt suddenly annoyed and said, ‘Why are you carrying that with an injured hand. Couldn’t your father have helped?’

  ‘He’s taking sentry-duty seriously,’ she returned coolly. ‘As you instructed. Also, you may have noticed that he’s lacking the use of his right arm. And living four flights up in the Rue Benoit gets one used to hauling water – so I suggest you stick to worrying about yourself.’

  Ashley shut his mouth tight and said nothing more.

  During the time it took him to shave, Athenais (pointedly ignoring him) removed items of apparel from the clothes-press to the dressing-closet. This indication of her determination to sleep in the adjoining room made Ashley distinctly uneasy. A glimpse of frothy cambric petticoats, a lace-trimmed corset and a pair of scarlet, beribboned garters was even more disturbing and was eventually responsible for him saying, ‘I believe I’ve already said that I don’t want you to sleep on the couch. And why aren’t you at the theatre? Is there no rehearsal today?’

  She carried the ancient pink wrapper through to the other room and answered him over her shoulder. ‘They can manage without me.’

  A new worry lodged in his gut. He finished wiping the residue of soap from his face and pulled the shirt over his head, wincing at a savage twinge from his arm. Finally, he said, ‘Please tell me you’re not staying at home because of me.’

  Hands on hips, she swung round to face him.

  ‘Please tell me you’re not in this condition because of the Marquis d’Auxerre.’

  There was a long silence as grey eyes met green.

  Finally, his tone perfectly flat, Ashley said, ‘I can’t.’

  ‘No. Neither can I.’ She waited and then, when he volunteered neither information nor argument, said, ‘According to Monsieur de Bergerac one of the men who attacked you was Henri de Vauvallon. Is it true?’

  ‘Apparently. I didn’t know his name until Cyrano told me – and by then he was dead.’ Very, very unfortunately. Vauvallon is connected to both d’Auxerre and Lucy Walter – and, for all I know, the two of them could be connected to each other; One-Eyed Will has now joined the cast though I’ve no idea why; and here I am, tied to a bloody bed. ‘But let’s get one thing clear, Athenais. Whether or not the Marquis is involved, you bear no responsibility for what happened to me. None.’

  ‘I can’t see it that way.’

  ‘Then let me spell it out for you. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I’ve killed men on the battlefield – and off it, in ways you don’t want to know about. I’m also involved in matters which concern neither you nor the Marquis. Last night, happened because of a small miscalculation on my part. And though I’m grateful to Cyrano, it would be helpful if he’d left Vauvallon alive. That way, I might have had some answers.’

  His voice had become unusually hard and a little intimidating. He was also already beginning to look tired and strained – reminding her that, less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d lost quantities of blood. Deciding not to tax him further, Athenais took the shaving bowl from where it lay in his lap and picked up the towel. She said lightly, ‘I understand what you say. But since I’d rather Henri de Vauvallon was dead than you, I’m glad Monsieur de Bergerac came upon you when he did.’ And, to take any untoward inference from her words, she tossed him a grin and added, ‘He is said to be quite mad, you know. Is he a friend of yours?’

  Ashley leaned back against the pillows, watching her closely without appearing to do so.

  ‘Before last night, I’d met him precisely once – so I can’t say he’s a friend. And I wouldn’t call him mad, precisely. But he certainly has an uncanny ability to attract trouble … fortunately coupled with an equal ability to get himself out of it.’

  ‘Like you?’

  ‘In one respect, perhaps. In others, not at all.’ He paused. ‘Go to work tomorrow, Athenais. I’m not going to die. I’ll even promise to stay in bed, if that’s what it takes. But I don’t want this incident causing any more damage than it already has.’

  * * *

  Back in the kitchen with Pauline, Athenais relayed bits of this conversation to Pauline and at some point, mentioned her intention of sleeping in the dressing-closet – thus occasioning their second argument of the day.

  ‘No,’ snapped Pauline. ‘Absolutely not. And this time, you’ll listen to me.’

  ‘You mean that this time, I’ll do as you say. I think you sometimes forget that it isn’t up to you to tell me how to behave.’

  ‘It is when you’re acting like a ninny.’

  Athenais heaved an exasperated sigh.

  ‘I’m not. And, to be honest, I don’t see where the problem lies. He may need something in the night so someone ought to be nearby.’

  ‘Somebody, yes. You, no.’

  ‘But why? I’m not going to slide into bed with him again, if that’s what you think. And he’s hardly in any condition to pounce on me – even supposing he wanted to. As for my reputation … God, Pauline! You can’t surely be worried about that?’

  ‘Difficult though it may be for you to comprehend, my objections have nothing at all to do with you. It’s the Colonel I’m thinking of.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m not?’

  ‘No. You’re not. If you were, you’d have realised a couple of things. If he needs something in the middle of the night – most probably to relieve himself – do you honestly think he’s going to call you? Of course he’s not. He’d sooner lie there in torment than embarrass himself that way.’

  Recalling what had happened earlier in the day, Athenais flushed a little and drew patterns on a plate with her knife.

  ‘You might also,’ resumed Pauline, ‘spare a thought for how hard this is for him. The pain he’s enduring – bad as it undoubtedly is – is only part of it. Being trapped in bed is going to drive him mad. He’s not used to needing help of any kind only now he can’t do without it. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he’s supposed to rely on you to perform personal tasks for him? Really?’

  ‘I – I hadn’t thought of it quite like that.’

  ‘You hadn’t thought about it at all. You just want to hover around him like a lovesick schoolgirl, waiting for him to fall head over heels in love with you.’

  ‘That’s neither fair nor true!’

  ‘Actually, it’s both. At what point was it ever going to occur to you to allow the poor man a shred or two of dignity?’ Pauline waited and, when no reply was forthcoming, said, ‘Does he know this is what you were planning?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  Athenais sighed. ‘And he told me not to do it.’

  ‘There you go, then. Pity you didn’t listen. But you will listen to me – or I’ll wash my hands of you. For as long as Ashley lies in your room, you’ll share mine. And Jem can sleep in the closet, ready to attend to any nocturnal requirements.’

  * * *

  Ashley took the opium as prescribed until the following day and then refused to take any more.

  ‘Sure about that?’ asked Pauline sceptically. She
was engaged in changing the dressing on his thigh and, though the surrounding inflammation was no worse, the wound itself was still an angry red and inclined to seep a little blood. ‘You’re not telling me you’re no longer in any pain.’

  ‘No. But it’s not as bad as it was and I’d prefer not to start relying on opiates.’ He managed a faint smile and gestured to where she was gently applying the doctor’s salve. ‘I’d also prefer you to let me start dealing with this myself. I could, you know.’

  ‘I daresay. But it’s a bit late for maidenly modesty, wouldn’t you say?’

  Ashley wasn’t used to being seen through so easily. He also wasn’t used to lying in bed wearing nothing but his shirt with a sheet draped across his lap while a female attended to an area of his person only a few scant inches from his groin. He said evasively, ‘You shouldn’t have to do this.’

  ‘I don’t have to do it – I choose to. I like to see for myself that it hasn’t turned green or started to suppurate – or anything else unpleasant that I can’t trust you to tell me about.’ She paused, reaching for clean bandages. ‘And at least I’ve spared you the ministrations of Sister Athenais. She still won’t stir from the house, of course – but at least she’s not sleeping in the dressing-room.’

  ‘For which I am eternally grateful.’

  ‘Yes. I thought you would be.’ Her head remained bent as she began applying the dressing. ‘Did she say anything to you?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I haven’t spoken to her since yesterday afternoon. But since Jem doesn’t seem to have come across a selection of female undergarments, I can only assume that she retrieved them while I slept.’

  ‘Mm.’ Pauline glanced up, briefly. ‘How much to you remember of those minutes when I was stitching you up?’

  ‘Was it only minutes?’ He thought for a moment. ‘Aside from the worst pain I’ve ever endured, I don’t remember much at all.’

  ‘Then you won’t recall Athenais passing out.’