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

by Stella Riley

  He felt marginally better after that – but not much. He’d known for some time that he couldn’t touch her without becoming as eager as a schoolboy but between one breath and the next, he’d forgotten all his self-made rules and been half-way to having her. He tried to tell himself that it wouldn’t have gone that far … that, even without Francis’s unexpected appearance, he’d have come to his senses and stopped. The trouble was he couldn’t be sure. Where Athenais was concerned, he didn’t seem to have any self-control worth a damn.

  Everything he’d said afterwards had been designed to annoy her into doing what he seemed incapable of doing himself – and it had worked, in that she’d told him to keep his hands off her in future. Unfortunately, she’d seen everything else he’d said for the lie it was. Worse still, she’d hurled a declaration of love in his face and revealed something about herself that made his chest feel as though a piece had been hacked out of it.

  He didn’t know what to do about any of it. So he harangued Jem into bringing him a pair of breeches and then set about using physical pain as a shield. He forced himself back and forth across the room until his thigh was screaming at him to stop … and then, after a brief respite, did it all over again. It was at some point during this that Francis had stuck his head round the door, sensibly kept his mouth shut and immediately taken himself off. If he’d stayed, if he’d said one word, Ashley thought he’d probably have hit him.

  By the following afternoon when Athenais had still not been near him, he realised that if matters were to be mended, she was leaving it up to him to do it. He didn’t blame her for that. One way and another, he’d left her with little choice. The problem was that, if she wouldn’t come to him, he was going to have to go in search of her. And if he couldn’t manage the bloody bedroom, he had no chance at all of negotiating the stairs. So the second day passed like the first, heaping pain upon pain as he struggled to regain a modicum of useful mobility.

  * * *

  Athenais knew what he was doing. From time to time, she stood outside his door, listening to uneven footsteps and the occasional muffled curse. After six days incarceration, he had clearly reached the limit of his endurance and was determined to get back on his feet as quickly as possible. It occurred to her that he might be doing more harm than good; that someone ought to tell him to stop. But she stayed away because, if he was determined to retreat behind his invisible wall, she had no way to reach him.

  She rather regretted telling him that she loved him – not because she didn’t want him to know but because she suspected he was under enough self-induced pressure already. For all she knew, he was even now busy convincing himself that she expected him to go down on one knee and offer her a ring. And if he was, he’d probably continue thinking it no matter what she said. On the other hand, he must have guessed how she felt without her saying it … unless girls usually threw themselves into his arms at the first opportunity. Athenais scowled at the notion, guessing that they probably did.

  So she thought about everything except those alarmingly exquisite moments in his arms and rehearsed endless beautifully reasonable and dignified speeches. And in between, she stood outside his door and worried.

  Eventually, on the second day and after two hours of spasmodic hovering, she communicated her fears to Pauline.

  ‘What do you expect me to do about it?’ came the reply. ‘As of this morning, he informed me – oh-so-politely and with a smile that would make hell freeze – that he was grateful for all I’d done but would take care of his leg himself in future.’

  ‘And you let him?’

  ‘He’s a big boy, Athenais. He’s also alarmingly capable and far from stupid.’

  ‘But he can’t go on like this. Someone needs to make him see sense.’

  ‘So go and try,’ came the typical reply. And with a sideways glance, ‘Or have the two of you had a falling-out?’

  ‘Something like that. He’s stupid and utterly pig-headed.’

  ‘He’s a man,’ shrugged Pauline. ‘What else did you expect?’

  ‘Francis isn’t like that.’

  ‘Francis is exactly like that. Why else do you think I’m going back on-stage for the first time in nearly seven years if not because his dratted lordship thinks it’s a good idea and has bullied me into it?’

  Athenais allowed herself to be temporarily diverted.

  ‘Yesterday was the first rehearsal, wasn’t it? How did it go?’

  ‘Well enough.’ There was a pause and then Pauline gave the smile that totally transformed her face and that very few people ever got to see. ‘Better than that, actually. Unless I’m very much mistaken, it’s going to be outstanding.’

  * * *

  In the end, it was Francis who told Ashley that if he didn’t stop punishing his leg he’d give himself a permanent limp.

  ‘I’ve got to get out of this room,’ snapped Ashley. ‘It’s driving me insane.’

  ‘Fine. Lean on me and I’ll help you downstairs.’

  ‘And back up again? I don’t think so.’ He pushed his hands into his hair, then withdrew them in disgust. ‘And I need a bath. But that means asking someone to haul the tub up here, along with enough water to fill it.’

  ‘Jem and I can manage that. Anything else?’

  ‘Yes. Don’t tell Pauline or I’ll have to ask permission to get the damned stitches wet.’

  Francis sighed. He said, ‘I recognise that you’re in a lousy mood. I also recognise that you’re entitled to be. But if you use that tone to Pauline, she’ll take your head off – and rightly so.’

  ‘I’m not that stupid.’

  ‘Or that foolhardy, one would hope. Upon which note – if you’ll do yourself the favour of sitting down for half an hour – I’ll set about organising a bath for you. With a bit of luck, it may improve your temper. And if it doesn’t, I suppose we can always drown you in it.’

  * * *

  Leaving Ashley soaking gratefully in a tub of hot water, Francis went downstairs to where Athenais was pacing up and down the hall. As soon as she saw him, she said, ‘You’ve stopped him trying to maim himself?’

  ‘For the time being.’

  ‘And he’s taking a bath?’

  ‘He is. I left Jem up there in case he needs help. But if you wanted to scrub his back …’ He stopped and, absorbing the look on her face, drew her towards the empty parlour. ‘I’m sorry. Obviously that’s not funny. Do you want to tell me about it?’

  She perched on the edge of the sofa.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About what’s troubling you and causing Ashley to look as though he’s possessed by demons.’ Francis sat beside her and then, when she didn’t answer, said, ‘I don’t mean to pry and I certainly don’t wish to embarrass you. But from what I glimpsed the other day, I rather had the impression that the two of you had … come to an understanding, shall we say?’

  ‘I thought that, too,’ she replied stonily. ‘But apparently not.’

  ‘Ah.’ A faint frown touched the sapphire eyes. ‘Ashley’s decision, presumably?’

  ‘Yes.’ Colour rose in her face as she realised that, having seen what he had, Francis could have no doubts on that score. ‘He was quite adamant.’

  ‘Did he explain why?’

  ‘No.’

  Francis’s brows rose. ‘He didn’t say anything?’

  ‘Oh yes. He said quite a lot. But none of it was true,’ said Athenais bitterly. And then, sitting a little straighter, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this. And I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t … you know.’

  ‘Yes. I’m extremely sorry about that.’

  ‘You weren’t to know.’ She paused, industriously pleating a fold of her skirt. ‘And I’m probably being unfair. I’m sure Ashley has his reasons.’

  ‘Undoubtedly. But you’ll forgive me for observing that, under the circumstances, you’ve a right to know what they are,’ remarked Francis coolly. ‘And I’ll be quite happy to tell him that if you wish.’


  ‘No!’ She swung to face him. ‘No, you mustn’t do that. He wouldn’t … that is, you know what he’s like. And --’

  She broke off, coming swiftly to her feet as the doorbell rang.

  Francis also stood, saying with a grin, ‘Your father will answer it. He’s impatient to try out that club of his – so let us hope the visitor is a friend.’

  Out in the hall, Archie stared belligerently at the stranger on the doorstep.

  ‘Who the ’ell are you?’ he demanded. And then, recollecting that the fellow probably didn’t speak the King’s own English, added laboriously, ‘Key ett voo?’

  Noting the large billet in the doorman’s left hand, the visitor took a wary step back and said, ‘I’m looking for Major Langley.’ Then, because it seemed expected, ‘Je cherche Major Langley.’

  ‘I got that the first time,’ said Archie, scowling but relieved to be on safe linguistic ground and becoming belatedly aware that the left sleeve of the visitor’s coat was empty and pinned neatly across his chest. ‘What do you want wiv ’im?’

  ‘That’s my business and his. I’m told he lives here. Is that correct?’

  ‘Might be.’ Archie found himself torn. The fellow didn’t look dangerous – but then, neither did the Marquis with his fancy ruffles and fine white hands. He said, ‘I’ve orders not to admit any strangers.’

  ‘Oh? Well, I’m not a stranger. Major Langley knows me very well. If he’s at home, perhaps you could summon him?’

  Reaching a decision, Archie said, ‘Wait ’ere, then.’ And promptly shut the door in the fellow’s face.

  Sticking his head round the parlour door, he jerked his chin at Francis, and said, ‘There’s a cove at the door wot says he knows you.’

  ‘His name?’

  Declining to admit that he’d forgotten to ask, Archie shrugged.

  ‘Didn’t say. All I know is ’e’s English. I’ve left ’im on the doorstep, if you want to come and take a look.’

  ‘Obviously a villainous-looking fellow,’ murmured Francis to Athenais. ‘Stay here while I see who it is.’ And, out in the hall, ‘For God’s sake, Archie – surely it wasn’t necessary to shut the door on him?’

  ‘Can’t be too careful. Colonel’s orders.’

  With a slight shake of his head, Francis pulled the door open … and went rigid with disbelief. ‘Nick?’

  Nicholas grinned. ‘Hello, Francis. Some jealous husband out for your blood, is he?

  ‘No. Oh Christ.’ Recovering the use of his legs, Francis surged forward to pull his friend into a crushing embrace. ‘This is – God, Nick. I can’t believe it. How the hell --?’ He stopped, realising why the hug felt awkward and changed his grip to pull Nicholas over the threshold. ‘That doesn’t matter. Come inside. Ignore Archie. He’s here to protect the ladies – one of them, anyway. I’m sorry. I’m babbling. I’m still having trouble believing you’re really here. We were so worried – you have no idea. Ashley couldn’t forgive himself for not being able to get to you in time – yet here you are. How on earth did you find us?’

  Finally able to get a word in edgeways, Nicholas said, ‘Ash is here?’

  ‘Yes. He’s --’ Francis stopped as the parlour door opened and, switching back to French, said, ‘Athenais – this Captain Sir Nicholas Austin, a good friend of ours. Nick – allow me to introduce you to Mademoiselle de Galzain; the best actress in Paris bar one, if she’ll forgive me for saying so.’

  ‘I can’t argue with the truth.’ She smiled at Nicholas and dropped a graceful curtsy. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, sir. Have you recently come from England?’

  Nicholas, who was having the usual male reaction to Athenais’s looks, swallowed and, in passable but rusty French, said, ‘Yes. I arrived yesterday.’

  ‘Then you should sit down and I will send Suzon in with wine.’

  ‘You don’t need to leave,’ said Francis quickly.

  ‘I do. After so long, you and Monsieur will have a great deal to talk about and I shall be very much in the way. Ah – unless you’d prefer to join Ashley upstairs?’

  ‘Not if he’s still in the bath. Perhaps you could … or no. Then again, perhaps not.’

  ‘Definitely not,’ she agreed firmly. And left the room.

  Nicholas stared after her. ‘Good Lord, Francis. Is she your … your …?’

  ‘No. She isn’t. In fact, she isn’t anybody’s … whatever the particular word was that you were looking for. She and her friend own the lease to this house and kindly allow Ashley and me to lodge here. But all that can wait. First, I want to hear about you.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry about your arm. Worcester, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes.’ Nicholas kept his tone light. ‘It’s inconvenient at times but I’m used to it now.’

  Recognising that further conversation on this point would be unwelcome, Francis said, ‘So where have you been all this time? And how did you manage to find us?’

  Nicholas opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again as Suzon came in carrying a tray with wine and glasses. He waited until she left and watched to make sure the door was properly shut. Then he reached into the breast of his coat and said, ‘I have a letter for you.’

  ‘A letter?’ Francis took the packet, eyed the superscription and immediately recognised the handwriting. ‘Eden? How is it you’ve brought me a letter from Eden?’

  ‘It’s a long story and most of it should probably wait until Ashley joins us. But basically, Colonel Maxwell saved both my life and my liberty after Worcester. I’ve been lodging with him in Cheapside for the last year. We can talk of all that later, if you wish. The important thing is that something happened recently which made him want to get a message to you – and so, here I am.’ He gestured to the tray. ‘You should read what he has to say. In fact, you’d probably better read it twice.’

  Frowning a little, Francis did so. The letter was not written in Eden’s usual economic style and described, at some length, the state of the weather, the quality of the last harvest and the fall in trade occasioned by the Dutch war. But wrapped up inside it were three pieces of salient information.

  Pray tell your lady sister that her sorry situation is well-noted and that, if there is a way to rid her of this onerous burden – discreetly and without injury to either party – I will endeavour to find it.

  Which, loosely translated, said, ‘Tell Celia she can have her divorce if it doesn’t inconvenience me.’

  And a paragraph and a half later, Your father will doubtless be interested to learn that the legal dispute regarding his country retreat has finally been resolved. A number of such cases, I believe.

  Not such good news. Eden was informing him that sequestration order on Far Flamstead had finally been enforced – presumably one of the six hundred Royalist properties confiscated to fund the Navy. Francis discovered he was quite glad he wouldn’t have to tell his father that their home was irretrievably lost. Until this moment, there had always been a frail hope that one day … well, that was gone now.

  Then, nearing the end, I am sending this letter by way of a young man of good family. His loyalty and veracity are to be entirely relied upon. I believe his expertise in certain matters may be of value to you.

  In other words, ‘Nicholas has important information. Listen carefully and do something about it.’

  Francis drew a long breath and looked up.

  ‘Well, at least Celia will be pleased. For the rest … what’s it all about, Nick?’

  ‘It’s complicated and I’d sooner only have to go through it all once. So perhaps we could wait until Ashley comes down?’

  ‘How long have you got?’ Francis rose and picked up the wine-bottle and glasses. ‘Ashley won’t be coming down because he can’t. So let’s go and see if he’s fit for company.’

  ‘What do you mean – he can’t?’ Nicholas followed Francis into the hall. ‘What’s the matter with him?’

  ‘A good many things, in my opinion. But the one that’s keeping him upstairs is a nasty sword thrus
t to his thigh. It happened nearly a week ago.’

  Nicholas stopped abruptly on the turn of the stair.

  ‘Are you saying he’s been incapacitated for a week?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh God.’

  ‘Don’t worry. He won’t rip up at you. He’ll be too glad you’re alive.’

  Francis stopped outside Athenais’s door and knocked.

  ‘You can come in,’ said an irritable voice from within. ‘I’m dry, dressed and not engaging in fleshly pleasures.’

  Francis cast Nicholas a look which clearly said, You see? Then he opened the door saying, ‘Mind your manners – or Nick and I will leave you to your own miserable devices.’

  And Ashley, who had been lying on the bed with an arm flung over his eyes while he tried to decide on what, if anything, he could usefully say to Athenais, sat up with a jerk.

  ‘What? What did you say?’

  ‘You heard.’ Francis stepped to one side so that Ashley could see who stood behind him. ‘Nick’s here.’

  Colour flooded into Ashley’s face and he hauled himself to his feet so fast that he had to catch at the bedpost for support. Joy, relief and sheer incredulity lit his eyes and he said unevenly, ‘Oh Christ. Nick. You’re alive. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You’re sorry I’m alive?’ asked Nicholas, attempting to leaven the moment. ‘What kind of welcome is that?’

  Knowing how Ashley must feel, Francis turned away from them to pour the wine and then, clearing his throat, he said, ‘Nick has a tale to tell. And I suspect, from the way he’s been behaving and the extremely peculiar letter he brought from Eden, that it’s cloak-and-dagger stuff – as if we didn’t have enough of that already.’