Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) (22 page)

~

Despite his prohibition she turned her attention to the garden. Not the large overgrown jungles that surrounded the house. They had been scavenged for blooms to brighten the dining room and landings, but otherwise left alone. But the hidden garden behind the magical little room called so loud she couldn’t refuse. It was beautiful in its own wild way and she didn’t seek to tame it. She pruned a bit and weeded, loosened packed earth and cleared away dead leafs. Sergeant Oakes came to help her with the fountain and she took the time to thank him for finding her such a lovely room.

“That wasn’t me, lass,” he replied. “The captain was very clear he wanted you to have it. He said you’d like the brightness and the view.”

“He did?”
He thought of my comfort even as we were quarrelling?

The fountain was hot work and she poured the sergeant a healthy mug of wine from the jug she’d brought to the garden.

“
Oh, aye, ma’am. ‘She’s a fey thing, Oakes,’ says he. ‘She’s bound to find it gloomy here. Give her the sunny one over the river and fill it with all the plants you can find.’”

“Well, that was very thoughtful of him. He never said a thing.”

“He wouldn’t, ma’am.”

The wine was making the sergeant loquacious and she made sure to keep his cup full.

“He’s good at taking care of people, but not much of a one for talking. Maggie claims his old nurse said he was more sociable, so to speak, as a child, but ever since I’ve known him, and that’d be almost twenty years, he’s kept his thoughts mostly to himself.”

“Really?”

“Aye. Shut tight as a clam he is. He made lieutenant at sixteen. I didn’t much like the thought of having a green boy as an officer, and neither did the other men. But even then he weren’t no boy. I swear we all thought he was born old. There was something dark about him. He never laughed or smiled and he was always business. Not one to sit and have a beer with the boys. Me, I thought the lad had demons, but if he did he kept them to himself.

“Demons?” She had noticed something dark about him, but that was not how she’d describe it.

Oakes nodded. “Eyes like a wolf he had, before battle...like when they be stalking their prey. Sometimes, when he didn’t know you were watching, you’d catch a look that would chill your blood like ice. He didn’t need that monster sword to put the fear of God in a man.” He lowered his voice and waggled his fingers as if performing a spell “He could just fix you with that gaze.”

Hope, who’d been listening with rapt attention, scoffed. “I think you’re exaggerating, Sergeant.”

He grinned in reply. “Maybe I am a bit. It makes for a better story.”

“He’s made no secret that he’s fought many battles but I had no idea he started so young. I wonder what effect that has on a man.” Although she spoke out loud, she was really thinking to herself. She’d seen the shadows in his eyes and wondered at them. To her they spoke of sorrow, pain, loneliness, perhaps regret.

“You needn’t worry though, my lady,” the sergeant hastened to add. “He’s ferocious on the battlefield but I never seen him abuse his men or a prisoner, and certainly never a woman or child. That’s a rare thing to say about men who’ve been long to war. A gentleman he is and a damned fine commander. Some thought it was their right to use up men like ammunition, but the captain, he did a job and did his best to get us out alive.”

She nodded solemnly. She’d loitered in the halls of power long enough to know how uncommon that was. “You needn’t worry, either, Sergeant. He doesn’t frighten me.”

“
Oh, aye, I can see that. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s more afraid of you than you are of him.”

“Yes. He fears I will ensorcell him him with my mirrors.”

The sergeant gave her a puzzled look and then wiped his brow and settled on a stone bench in the shade. It was hot for early June. He reached for the jug and helped himself. “Do you know, my lady? You’re the first person I’ve seen make him laugh or smile. A real smile anyway. Not one of those cold lifeless ones that freeze you to your bones.”

She was pleased to hear it. His smiles and laughter were quick and fleeting, except for the belly laugh when she told him of Orange Moll. She’d learned more about the captain in an hour with Mr. Oakes than she had over the past month and she pressed ahead, taking advantage of his talkative mood.

“You say he’s good at taking care of people…”

“Oh, aye,” Oakes offered before she could finish. “Scarred footmen, one-eyed stable boys and short-fingered…well, whatever I am. Most of the men you see here served under him. After the war ended there was little employment and too many men looking for work. Many of us never got paid our back wages, and many turned to crime or ended in debtor’s prison…or starved. Finding work is hard enough if you’re able-bodied and handsome, almost impossible for fellows like Jemmy and me. At least I still have all the fingers on my right hand. The captain finds work for any of his men that need it. He always takes care of his own.”

“Ahhh! That explains a great deal. I wondered about that. I was beginning to think you all a great clumsy lot.”

They both broke into laughter.

“You’re good for him, lass. You’ve sparked his interest and that’s a rare thing. He’s not easy to get to know but I warrant it’s worth the effort.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But surely he’s had other…interests…before me.”

“Ah! Well, if it’s ladies you mean, there
was
the Walters woman. Very protective of her, he was. He served her father a space. He admired her, I think, and felt it his duty to help her, but he never looked at her the way he does at you.”

Hope blushed and looked at her toes. “He’s a very handsome man, though, Sergeant. There must have been...involvements?

“Achh!” The sergeant shrugged his broad shoulders. “Soldiers have needs just like other men. The captain, well, I’m sure there’s been a widow or two. But he’s never been one to play at romance. Many a fine lady has tried and failed. He’s always been more at home on a battlefield than in a parlor.”

“Yes, I guessed as much when I first saw him.”

“He was one of Cromwell’s Ironsides you know. Professional soldiers them. The finest fighters in Europe. They were never bested abroad or at home. A few, like the captain, don’t know what to do with themselves when peace rolls around. War’s been his mistress, and she’s a cold-hearted bitch if you ask me. I’ve never understood what comfort a man can claim from her—but some men find her exciting and pine for her when she’s gone. Mercenary, soldier of fortune, when they aren’t needed at home off they go to fight for pay. For men like the captain there’s never a shortage of opportunity. It’s the world’s second oldest profession they say, but so far as I know he didn’t do it for the money.”

Hope gave the sergeant a sideways glance, wary of an insult, but he took a healthy swallow of wine and continued on blithely.

“He’d
say
he was weary of battle and I believe that was true, but he could never seem to...settle. Something kept driving him back to the field...or maybe away from here. After a month or two he’d get edgy and off he’d go once more. It was different this time, of course. He tried to make a go of it, maybe to provide a home for the Walters woman but that didn’t work out. Still, he stayed almost a year but I could see he was getting restless. When the king took his lands I think a part of him was glad of it. I was certain he was off to fighting again and with Cressly gone I feared he’d never come home. And then...back he comes with you! A great relief that was. You’re the first woman he’s ever brought to Cressly and as his wife, no less. A great surprise it was to all of us.

“Believe me, Sergeant, it was as great a surprise to me as it was to you.”

~

Robert wandered through the house in stunned amazement. If he didn’t know better he would have thought he was in someone else’s home. Colorful rugs adorned tables and accented burnished floors—and a chaotic mix of tapestries illustrating stories from history, legend and myth brightened every wall. Despite his eagerness to see Hope—an excitement that had mounted steadily since he’d turned his horse for home—every few feet he stopped in his tracks to admire this display or that. It was as if she’d gleaned his interests from his curio cabinet and brought the same vibrancy, curiosity, and wonder to the entire house.

He stopped in front of a tapestry that covered a wall in the library. He hadn’t set eyes on it in years but it had captivated him in his youth. It depicted a group of colorfully clad astrologers standing on a balcony as they trained a telescope on a black-and-silver sky. He recognized many other scenes as he wandered through the halls. He’d forgotten he had packed them all away.

Her decoration had no coherence as to style or subject. She had clearly chosen for cheerfulness, warmth and fascination, with a focus on what was most pleasing to the eye. It was Cressly as he had never imagined it. Relaxing, inviting, comfortable and bright.
Like she is.
He was astonished by what she’d accomplished in just a few short weeks
. The woman is a magician. She’s reached inside my past, she’s reached inside of me and taken what I loved best to make my empty house a home.

He remembered back to the first night he’d met her. How charmed he’d been. How contagious her smile. The way she’d glowed, delighted with her ivy necklace and crown of flowers.
She truly was a queen that night.
But their marriage had been a travesty, and she an unwitting dupe. He felt a stab of regret for having been a part of it—yet he couldn’t regret the result.
I remember how I wished, for a moment, that she was my lover and that all of it was real
.

Their marriage
was
real now. Even if it had been consummated on a billiard table. He winced at the thought at the same time that it stirred him. He would have to do better. She deserved more. She had said she wished them to be friends. She had suggested, that on his return from London they might start anew. There was nothing that would please him more.

There was still the the thorny matter of Charles to deal with though, and he was still a man who wouldn’t share. But surely the advantage was his.
He
had not betrayed her or abused her trust. It was his company she kept, and he had no doubt she felt the same explosive passion for him as he did for her. Was it possible he might woo her and win her from the king? He patted his pocket. He had no jewels with which to tempt her but he knew something he doubted Charles knew—that a gift of bushes and a wheelbarrow were far more likely than a necklace to win her heart. The thought made him smile, until he saw the masses of flowers in the dining room—and a letter on the mantel addressed to Hope from the king.

~

After Sergeant Oakes left, Hope stretched out with the half-emptied jug on a velvet carpet of lush green grass. The sun kissed her face and the delightful chatter from the fountain added the final enchantment to a lovely day. She supposed the sergeant’s revelations about her husband should alarm her, but instead, they had helped her see him in a different light—and put her more at ease. It was a relief to know he wasn’t the perfect knight that she had first imagined. He had secrets, flaws and imperfections, and was trying to make his way in a difficult world, just as she was.

She knew that some men compared soldiering for hire to a form of prostitution. Hence Oakes referring to it as it the second oldest profession. The captain had said as much himself during their first bitter exchange as they left Pall Mall.

A soldier obeyed orders. His decisions were made for him and no matter the circumstances, he couldn’t walk away. A soldier was given a mission. A soldier of fortune asked how much it paid. A mercenary sold his expertise and service for a time and a price and when an agreement was completed he went freely on his way.

From that perspective the mercenary
was
much like a mistress and the soldier like a wife, she thought with a wry grin.
Robert wants his independence. Perhaps even feels trapped the same as I
. It made him seem more human. Perhaps they weren’t so very different after all.

In any case, she wasn’t disturbed by how many men he had killed or how deadly he might be in battle. In the corridors of Whitehall and the taverns and brothels of London she’d encountered men who killed before. Bloody-minded fanatics, idealistic sadists, coldblooded murderers who killed for the thrill. And then there were the dead-eyed ones that looked right through you because you were of no more significance than a flea. They raped and tortured, trampled villages and burned down farms and homes. Perhaps one needed men like the captain to defend from men like them. The sergeant was right in any case. In the world she’d grown up in, men who limited their violence to their fellow combatants were rare.

I may have been mistaken in many things. I thought him judgmental because of his grimace in my parlor when we met, when all he objected to were my mirrors. I thought he deceived me, while he thought I was a party to Charles forcing him. What else have I been wrong about? The Sergeant said he doesn’t speak much with anyone, but he has at least made some effort with me. Perhaps what I took as coldness and judgment were awkwardness and discomfort. He was certainly pleasant enough at the inn in Nottingham, and when we met the night before he left.

Oakes had given her a great deal to think on. This new captain with his closely guarded secrets, his collection of misfit veterans and his warrior’s way of life was far more interesting and easier to relate to than the proud, judgmental, morally superior hypocrite she’d fashioned in her mind.
Was he ever that?
Or had she imagined him to use him as a target for the hurt and anger, and the helplessness she’d felt over Charles?

And what now? What do I feel for this man? What, if anything, does he feel for me? There’s no denying the attraction. It was immediate they day he stepped into my parlor. I almost stepped over Charles to get close
. In Nottingham something had crackled between them.
I felt his nearness like a touch. It made me shiver though his hand was inches from mine
. She remembered how desperately she had wanted to kiss him, and though she scarce would have credited it was possible, the night when he’d taken what she’d offered during the storm still made her blush.