The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3) (25 page)

Ashley’s expression remained enigmatic.
 
‘Ask away.’

‘My father will talk a lot,’ said Athenais uncomfortably. ‘Mostly to your servant but possibly to you as well.
 
He’ll tell you things which – which I wouldn’t wish to become generally known.’

‘Such as what, for example?’

She drew a deep breath and said heroically, ‘Such as the fact that my name isn’t really Athenais de Galzain.’

Ashley had never thought it was.
 
But because she looked as though she were confessing to murder, he had to struggle not to laugh. ‘Ah.’

‘It’s Agnes,’ she continued, determined to get the worst over with.
 
‘Stott.’

His mouth quivered and, seeing it, she said angrily, ‘It isn’t funny!’

‘I’m sorry.
 
Of course it isn’t,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘Is there more?’

‘I’m also a … I’m illegitimate.’

This, he reflected, was less amusing.
 
He said, ‘I see.
 
If all you require is my assurance that neither Major Langley nor myself will go round gossiping to all and sundry – consider yourself duly assured.’

It was said so matter-of-factly that she did not need to wonder if he meant it.
 
She also recognised that he could easily have bartered with her … but that, to his credit, he hadn’t even tried.
 
A huge weight rolled off her shoulders and, with a wide, uninhibited smile, she said, ‘Thank you. And for
that
, you can use the kitchen as often as you like.’

Ashley stared at her.
 
He looked at the glowing red nose, the puffy eyelids and the length of scarlet flannel, swathing her throat.
 
He absorbed the tangled copper hair, writhing like a nest of vipers and clashing horribly with the unflattering pink thing she was wearing.
 
She looked perfectly dreadful.
 
But her smile blinded him and sent desire surging through him like a rip-tide.

If he’d been capable of thinking at all, he’d have thought that was the worst that could happen.
 
It wasn’t.
 
An unwary downward glance showed him her bare toes, peeping from beneath the hem of her wrapper … bloodless and white with cold.
 
He heard himself say stupidly, ‘Don’t you have slippers?’

‘Yes. But they’re too big. Also, my robe is too long and I thought I might trip on the stairs so it seemed safer to do without them.’

And that was when all his carefully erected barriers crumbled.
 
The moment he finally admitted to himself that all his criticisms … all his negative assumptions about Athenais de Galzain had arisen from self-preservation.
 
He had been determined not to like her at all because he’d known there was a distinct possibility of liking her too much.
 
And that, for any number of good reasons, couldn’t be allowed to happen.

Except that it had.
 

He saw her clearly now, this resilient girl who’d been born with no advantages at all but had somehow managed to forge a successful career and drag herself out of the slums of St. Severin.
 
He wondered if she’d had to use that exquisite body to achieve what she had … but suspected that she had too much steel in her spine and, possibly, too much integrity for that.
 
Also, if she
had
done so, she’d presumably own a robe and slippers that weren’t second-hand.
 

With some difficulty, he engaged his brain and, more sharply than he intended, said, ‘Are you
completely
insane?
 
You’re ill and shouldn’t be standing barefoot on this freezing floor talking to me.
 
Go back to bed.’

‘I will in a minute.
 
I just need to get the hot brick from the oven and fetch the new --’

‘God damn it!’ muttered Ashley.
 
And sweeping her up in his arms, strode to the door.

Taken completely unawares, Athenais said, ‘No, Colonel – you mustn’t – you don’t need to – if you’ll just put me down, I can --’

Colonel Peverell was already half-way across the hall and heading for the stairs.

‘Which room is yours?’

‘This really isn’t necessary.’
 
Her fingers curled involuntarily on his collar and she breathed in the scent of plain soap and something else she didn’t recognise but which made her feel weak. ‘I only wanted to --’

‘Trip about for another ten minutes.
 
Yes, I gathered.
 
Which room?’

She sighed and gave up.
 
He was warm and solid and his arms felt so very good.

‘The second on the right.’

He pushed the door open with his shoulder, walked over to the bed and deposited her unceremoniously in the middle of it.
 

‘Wrap yourself up and try to get warm.
 
I’ll fetch the brick for your feet and bring you a hot drink.’
 
The severity of his expression was slightly spoiled by the almost imperceptible curl of his mouth.
 
‘Does Milady have any other requirements?’

There was an unexpected lump in her throat but she swallowed it and said awkwardly, ‘I left a play script in the parlour.
 
If it’s not too much trouble …?’

‘I might possibly manage that – but only if you stay where you are.
 
And that’s an order.’

Athenais managed a feeble grin.
 
‘Yes, Colonel.’

By the time he came back with the brick and a cup of mulled wine with honey, her feet had started to thaw but her brain was still refusing to work properly.
 
Indeed, when he lifted the bed-covers to slide the flannel-wrapped brick in by her feet, rational thought became totally impossible.
 

Ashley handed her the cup, dropped the script in her lap and said, ‘I’ll make up the fire and then leave you in peace.
 
If you’ve any sense, you’ll finish the wine and go to sleep.
 
The play will still be there tomorrow.’

She watched him deftly banking coals and raking off ash, as if it was something he did every day.
 
She tried to make sense of him and couldn’t.
 
He might be poor but he was a gentleman – and, as such, as far out of her reach as the moon.
 
Unfortunately.

He finished his task and stood up, dusting off his hands.
 
Before he could speak, Athenais said shyly, ‘Thank you, Colonel.
 
I don’t know why you’ve been so kind – but I’m very grateful.’

‘Good.
 
I’d hate to have put myself to so much trouble for nothing,’ he retorted.
 
And, with a sudden smile that turned her bones to water, ‘And my name, should you wish to use it, is Ashley.’

~
 
*
 
*
 
~
 
*
 
*
 
~

Ashley spent the next hour cursing himself for offering her his given name and wondering what the hell had possessed him. Under the circumstances, it had been unbelievably stupid.
 
In the space of an hour, he had progressed from dislike to desire and, finally, to something more dangerous than either.
 
Worse still, for a fleeting second, he’d caught a look in her eyes that suggested the attraction might be mutual.

For both their sakes, there was only one thing to be done.
 
He had to restore his barriers and try, as far as it was possible, to stay out of her way.
 
She had built a life.
 
It might not be totally secure or particularly lucrative … but, in time, those things could change.
 
And even if they didn’t, she was already able to put a decent roof over her head and food on the table, all paid for by work she enjoyed and was good at.
 
She most assuredly did
not
need a penniless would-be-lover complicating her ordered existence.
 
And that, Ashley realised, was all he could ever be. He had nothing to offer her now and no prospects for the future.
 
Also, she already had one millstone round her neck in the shape of her father.
 
She couldn’t afford another.
 
So the best thing he could do for her was to leave her alone and wait for time to gently eradicate what, if anything, had happened between them in the kitchen.

The knowledge made his head hurt but he had sufficient experience to know that life was full of disappointments and impossibilities.
 
He’d had enough of both to last him several lifetimes and had no intention of courting more.
 
Neither for himself nor for Athenais.

*
 
*
 
*

Returning later that afternoon from a visit to Celia, Francis threw his hat to one side and said conversationally, ‘What’s the penalty for fratricide?
 
Never mind.
 
Whatever it is, it’s probably worth it.’

Ashley looked up from the bundle of month-old English news-sheets he’d been scanning.

‘What has she done now?’

‘Nothing new.
 
She wants to know why Eden hasn’t replied yet – and am I
sure
he’ll have received my letter – and shouldn’t I write
another?
 
Do I not
see
how important this is? And so on and so on – and tediously, irritatingly so on.’

‘Are you going to write again?’

‘No.
 
My letter may have taken its time – but it will certainly have arrived by now and I sent another note when we moved here so Eden knows where I am.
 
If he hasn’t replied, it’s because he’s chosen not to and writing to him again will do more harm than good.
 
Celia, of course, can’t understand that.’

Ashley leaned back and folded his arms behind his head.

‘Do you think she’s worried that Verney is less than eager to marry her?’

‘It’s possible.
 
Not that I’d know what he thinks.
 
He leaves the house as soon as I enter it.’
 
Francis sat down and stared meditatively at his well-worn boots.
 
Then, glancing up again, he said, ‘On a completely different note, Celia tells me that the lovely Athenais has caught the eye of the Marquis d’Auxerre but is leading him a merry dance.
 
Apparently people are laying bets on how long – and how much – she’ll hold out for.’

A tiny frisson of something he didn’t care to identify slid through Ashley’s veins.

‘D’Auxerre?
 
Isn’t he one of Mazarin’s satellites?’

‘Yes.
 
He’s also one of the biggest rakes in France and reputedly amongst the most depraved – or perverted, depending on who you listen to – which considering the competition, is no mean feat.
 
Then again, he’s indecently rich and neither decrepit nor a gargoyle … so I don’t imagine he gets too many refusals.’

‘Fortunate fellow,’ remarked Ashley dryly. And, unable to help himself, ‘On the other hand, perhaps Mademoiselle prefers not to sell her body.
 
Or perhaps she’s heard the same rumours you have.’

‘Both of those things may be true,’ replied Francis cynically, ‘but she and Madame are plainly in need of money.
 
If they weren’t, we wouldn’t be living here.
 
And, at the end of the day, Mistress Athenais is an actress – so I’d be amazed if she wasn’t open to offers.’

Once again, something unpleasant shifted in Ashley’s chest but he concealed it and said, ‘You’re saying she’ll sleep with anyone who can afford her?’

‘One would hope not.’
 
A mischievous grin dawned.
 
‘Shall we give d’Auxerre a run for his money?
 
We could, you know.
 
He may be rich and influential – but we have charm, address and a certain threadbare panache.
 
What do you think?’

‘That it’s a remarkably silly idea.’

‘Spoilsport.
 
Or is it just that you don’t want to play if you might not win?’

‘I don’t want to play at
all
. But if you think you can outclass – if not outbid - the Marquis, by all means go ahead.
 
You’ll be risking Madame Fleury removing your bollocks – but that’s your problem.’

‘I’ll find a way round her.’

‘Don’t count on it.’
 
Thoroughly irritated – as much with himself as with Francis – Ashley prowled to the window.
 
‘This is a singularly asinine conversation.
 
If we weren’t so bloody bored, we wouldn’t be having it at all.’

‘Oh – I don’t know,’ murmured Francis provocatively.
 
And, when no response was forthcoming, ‘All right.
 
What do you suggest we talk about?’

‘Nothing.
 
I’m sick of talking.
 
It’s all you or I – or anybody else, for that matter - does these days.’
 
He paused, remembering the promise he’d made to Athenais.
 
‘Speaking of which … Mademoiselle asks that we treat her father’s jug-bitten maunderings with absolute discretion.
 
Do you think you can manage that?’

‘I’ll do my poor best,’ retorted Francis absently.
 
And, sitting up, ‘Wait a minute.
 
You’ve spoken to her?’

‘This morning. She’s got a --’

‘You devious bastard!
 
You’ve stolen a march on me – and after all that righteous indignation, too.’
 
Francis met the Colonel’s eyes and, recognising the expression in them, threw up one hand in a gesture of surrender.
 
‘All right – all right.
 
I take it back.
 
So what are the revelations we’re supposed to keep locked in our manly bosoms?’

‘You’ll know them when you hear them,’ returned Ashley.
 
And, with a mocking smile, ‘Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on your point of view – I’m not a gossip.’

*
 
*
 
*

Ashley wondered if Francis really would lay siege to Athenais … and decided that, knowing Francis, he probably would but that, being a gentleman, he was unlikely to go beyond snatching a kiss if the opportunity presented itself.
 
Even this, however, was sufficient to stir up feelings to which Ashley knew he had no right.
 
Then again, this Marquis fellow sounded both unpleasant and dangerous; and sort who took what he wanted simply because he could.
 
To this, Francis was infinitely preferable.
 
And if Athenais fell victim to his charm, at least she’d be getting a Viscount.

Never one to be kept in the dark, Francis soon made sure he knew everything that Ashley knew.
 
Then, armed with a posy of flowers and an arsenal of imaginative compliments, he embarked on his frivolous campaign of eclipsing the Marquis d’Auxerre.

It didn’t go quite as he’d hoped.
 
He found Athenais by the fire in the parlour with a book on her knee, looking more like a respectable tradesman’s daughter than a siren of the stage. Jettisoning all his witty speeches, Francis bowed over her hand and laid the Michaelmas daisies in her lap, saying, ‘I understand you’ve been ill, Mademoiselle and wished to express the hope that you’re feeling better.’

‘Thank you.
 
Yes, I’m much better now.
 
Well enough to return to the theatre.’

Since there were shadows under her eyes and her nose was still rather pink, Francis said, ‘Isn’t it perhaps a little soon?’

‘Pauline thinks so.
 
But it was only a chill, you know.
 
And having been shut up for four days, I’ve conned my part for the next play and read two others and am now reduced to twiddling my thumbs.
 
In short,’ she sighed, ‘I’m bored.’

He grinned.
 
‘Dear me.
 
You sound just like Ashley.’

‘Do I?’
 
Her tone expressed no more than polite interest but she waved him to a chair and said, ‘The Colonel dislikes being idle?’

‘Let’s say he’s unaccustomed to it and not adjusting well.
 
I, on the other hand, am enjoying having time for reading and civilised conversation – and all the other pleasures one doesn’t find in the army.’

‘You’ve been fighting in the English wars since they began?’

‘Give or take the odd few months here and there – yes.’

‘Both of you?’
 

‘Again, yes – but, until last year, not together.
 
Oddly enough, prior to the King’s coronation in Scotland, our paths had never previously crossed.’
 
His mouth curled almost imperceptibly and he added, ‘In actual fact, we’ve known each other less than two years.
 
It just
feels
a lot longer.’

She smiled.
 
‘Does it?
 
Why?’

‘Mostly because we’ve been living in each other’s pockets for the last twelve months and have shared numerous unpleasant experiences.’
 
Francis’s shrug was a masterpiece of elegant self-mockery. ‘After Worcester, we ditched, dug, hoed and furrowed.
 
We chopped wood, cleaned stables, picked fruit and polished other men’s boots.
 
Worse still, we were forced to let Jem shear us in the Roundhead style … a sacrilege from which neither of us have yet entirely recovered.’
 
He smiled suddenly. ‘But I don’t repine.
 
It has enabled me to sit here with you rather than in a dismal cell with Ashley.’

Athenais eyed him thoughtfully for a moment and then, shaking her head, ‘I can’t imagine either of you doing menial work.’

‘Considering the state of my coat, I’m relieved to hear it.’

She laughed a little but asked curiously, ‘Do neither of you want to return to England?’

‘We both
want
to – but, unless we don’t mind facing imprisonment, it isn’t an option.’

‘Imprisonment?’
 
Her brow wrinkled in an effort of memory. ‘I thought … didn’t your Parliament pass a law?
 
A sort of pardon?’

‘The Act of Oblivion,’ nodded Francis.
 
‘Yes.
 
Sadly, amongst many other caveats, it excludes those of us who fought at Worcester last September – so it’s of no help to Ashley or myself.
 
Then again, unless things change, neither of us has anything to go back
to
.’

‘Nothing at all?
 
No home or wife?’

‘Nor even a sweetheart, I’m afraid.’
 
Aware that, thus far, the conversation had revolved as much around Colonel Peverell as it had around himself, Francis added wickedly, ‘At least,
I
haven’t.
 
I can’t speak for Ashley.’

Athenais continued to smile and immediately changed the subject.
 

Francis noticed and drew his own conclusions.
 
He ought to have found these irritating – or at least disappointing.
 
Instead, he was mildly amused.
 
If the girl had conceived a fancy for Ashley – and Ashley was either not interested or not inclined to seize his advantage, the resulting situation was fraught with intriguing possibilities. Entirely without malice but with a good deal of characteristic devilment, Francis decided to exploit them.

Something else tugged at his brain.
 
A notion he’d had before but done nothing about.
 
Perhaps this time, he would.

*
 
*
 
*

It wasn’t long before Pauline noticed that the man she didn’t know whether to call Major Langley or Lord Wroxton was taking every opportunity to flirt with Athenais.
 
She also noticed that Athenais wasn’t doing anything to discourage him.
 
Given his lordship’s looks and easy manners, this wasn’t surprising.
 
Girls probably dropped into his lap like ripe plums.
 
But, despite seeming to enjoy his company and happily listening to him quote poetry by the yard, Athenais showed no sign of infatuation and, as often as not, appeared to be treating him the same way she treated Etienne Lepreux.
 
Odder still, the Viscount-Major didn’t seem to mind.
 
Pauline decided to keep a discreet eye on the situation and let matters take their course.
 
Certainly, on present showing, it didn’t look as if castration would become necessary.