Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) (8 page)

“You will see the truth of it soon enough. Why are you here? What do you want from Charles?”

“I am here because he invited me. What I want is between he and I.”

“How did you manage to trap William into marriage?”

“He trapped me. He acted the highwayman and kidnapped me and took me to his home.”

She snorted. “You lie!”

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “My lady Castlemaine, I very much doubt that you or Charles will ever understand what passes between William and I. Suffice it to say, I am no threat to you. William is the man I love and I want no other. And you are no threat to me. I have what I want and you cannot take it from me. We are here for the wedding and then we’ll go home, so let’s avoid hostilities and call truce.”

“Are you really in love with him?”

“Deeply. Madly. Gloriously. Do you not feel the same for Charles?”

“Are you insane? To do so would ruin me, for he would never feel the same. I daresay I’ve never felt that for anyone. And you think Lord Rivers feels this…this fool’s emotion for you?”

“I know he does.”

“Such self deception leaves you open to deep wounds, my dear. One almost pities you.” For once, she spoke without malice.

“And such coldness and calculation will leave you unloved and alone. One almost pities you.”

This unaccustomed exchange, more curious than rancorous, left them both uncomfortable. When a page ran up a moment later with a note for Elizabeth, they were both relieved. Lady Castlemaine nodded and hastily withdrew.

~

Elizabeth sat on His Majesty’s bed, her back comfortably settled against a mound of gold-braided cushions, with a spaniel asleep on her lap. Charles’ penchant for conducting most of his audiences in his bedchamber had shocked her the first time, but now it felt comfortable, like visiting an old friend.

“Do you remember your last visit here?”

“I shall never forget it. It’s a story I’ll tell and none will believe me when I am grown old.”

“But William does.”

“Yes. William does.”

“By God, Madam! He married you. Why did you not invite me?”

“You ordered him arrested for treason, Charles. I thought, at first, you were going to imprison him.

“Oh I
was
going to. For nearly an hour. But the idea of you trying to redeem him proved far more entertaining. Better than your plans to open a bakeshop, eh?” He nudged her foot and grinned. “Yet you denied me the dénouement.”

“Well, you
had
ordered him gone from England. It didn’t seem politic at the time.”

Charles waived his hand dismissively. “That was to keep him from court and allow you time to properly manage him. Well done, by the way.”

“I have to thank you, Charles, for writing to say that we might consider Maidstone as France.”

“You’re quite welcome, my dear. Are you tired of one another yet?”

“You are incorrigible. We are more in love than ever. Doesn’t your Queen arrive within the month?”

“Ah yes! I have a picture.” He reached for a drawer beside his bed and pulled out a small miniature. “What do you think?”

“It’s rather hard to see, but she has beautiful eyes.”

“Yes, I think so, too. I’ve seen a larger portrait. She is pretty enough as princesses go, though her teeth are somewhat protruding and her hair is arranged on the top of her head, much like the wings of a bat. She looks to have a pleasant smile though, which I hope indicates a pleasing personality. She also brings me four hundred thousand crowns in jewels, free trade with Brazil and the East Indies, and the ports of Bombay and Tangier.”

“I am glad to hear you mention her smile before extolling her holdings.”

He shrugged, and poured her a glass of wine and one for himself. “But that’s not why you’re here. One or another of my ladies is always annoyed with me, though I’m such a sunny fellow. I recognize the look. Out with it, Elizabeth. What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Very well. You have taken away the holdings of my dear friend, Captain Robert Nichols, despite your general amnesty and the fact he has been living there peacefully since your restoration. I can’t believe he has done anything to deserve it. He is an honorable man. Gallant, kind, and brave.”

Charles held up a hand to stop her. “Robert Nichols…Robert Nichols. The name is familiar. Does he have property in Nottinghamshire?”

“Yes, he does.”

“I
did
ask Clarendon to find some land for a fellow whose fundraising and…other connections have been vital to the crown. He told me the man specifically requested the lands in question. Does your captain have any useful relatives or connections at court? Besides you?”

“Not that I’m aware of, Charles. He was a Parliamentarian soldier and country gentleman. A baronet, I believe.

“And what concern is he to you?”

“He intervened with Cromwell when I was arrested, and argued for me on my behalf. Without his help, I would have been transported or hanged.”

“The devil you say! You have quite the knack for landing in deep waters, Elizabeth. But what a pretty tale. Quite diverting. A modest gentleman of chivalrous character on a country estate, desperate to keep his lands. Is he handsome?”

“Well…yes,” Elizabeth answered, rather flustered. “But, Charles, that has nothing to do with why I’m asking.”

“No, no. Of course not. If you were the type to be turned by a pretty face you would have surely chosen me.”

They both laughed and Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with affection. “You are a very attractive man, Charles Stuart, and you know it well.”

He grinned and raised his glass to her in salute. “But not as attractive as that damned impertinent poet. You’ve quite ruined him, you know. He’ll be spouting love verses soon.”

Elizabeth blushed and hid her face against the spaniel’s silky coat.

“Tell me more about him. Your captain friend. Is he married? I might have a use for him if he’s not too proud.”

“Well, no, he isn’t married, but he
is
rather proud—”

“Excellent! This is good news indeed, Elizabeth. I thank you for bringing it to my attention. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must speak with Clarendon at once. There’s little time to lose. I look forward to seeing you and William at the ball tonight.”

Charles hurried his stunned and sputtering guest from the room and called for his chief minister. He was delighted. With Elizabeth’s help, he had hit on the perfect solution. He would grant her request. The honorable captain of whom she spoke so highly would keep his lands, see his holdings doubled, and be made an earl besides—provided he marry Hope Mathews. He had only to remove her to the country, treat her with all courtesy and comfort befitting a special friend of the king, and return her to court when the time was right.

The message went out shortly after the chancellor entered the royal chambers. Captain Robert Nichols was ordered to present himself at court at once.

Cressly

He approached the manor house across a pristine field veiled by a thin dusting of snow. The air was cold and sharp to breathe, but Kate Bishop the dairy maid had kissed him, and he didn’t feel the cold.

The moment his parents left to visit his uncle he’d hurried to the village to stand vigil by her door. His patience had been rewarded. He caught her first, and claimed her as his Valentine, blushing as he offered her a pretty blue paper with her name writ on it in gold. He’d labored over it for hours in secret, knowing his parents would not approve. It was well worth the effort. She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him, and it warmed him all the way home.

He stopped in the middle of the field, as happy as he’d ever been in all his twelve years. The woods were still. The silence so deep he could hear the excited beating of his own heart. And then a distant shriek. A night owl, he thought, desperately hungry to be searching for food so late. He heard it again. A panicked scream, coming from the manor house. Caroline!

He raced through the field and skidded across the stone-flagged courtyard, only to be brought short by the sight of five blooded horses wandering loose in front of a smashed and broken door. Heart pounding, his terror for Caroline a sick lump in his throat, he eased into the entrance hall and inched his way along the corridor. The servants must have fled or hidden and there was no sign of his father’s men at arms. As he neared the drawing room he heard Caroline sobbing, and the sound of hoarse shouts and the laughter of drunken men.

He leaned against the doorjamb and peered around the corner. The drawing room was littered with broken furniture, shredded hangings, and paintings that had been torn from the walls. A lone man at arms with a sword in his back lay sprawled across a table. Caroline huddled in a corner in a tight little ball. Her dress was ripped, her favorite blue ribbons were torn from her hair and her face was bloody, bruised and beaten. For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick.

There were five men wearing the brightly colored garb and plumed hats that marked them as His Majesty’s cavaliers, but under their elegant trappings, they reeked of unwashed clothes and alcohol. They were ignoring Caroline for now, tapping at walls with the butts of their swords and digging at the floorboards. He considered darting in, grabbing her and making a run for it, but he didn’t even know if she could walk. He should have been there to protect her. He wished he had a way to let her know she wasn’t alone.

The guilt, the terror, the boiling rage at seeing Caroline so abused gave way to icy calm. His breathing slowed, his heart steadied and his attention focused to a razor’s edge as he assessed his opponents. A bullet-headed man next to Caroline, without his sword. A handsome black-haired man dressed finer than the rest, commanding the center of the room. A rat-faced fellow and a blond man with a split lip knocking on walls, and a bookish-looking fellow with a wickedly curved dagger poking at floorboards in the corner. He observed each in turn before slipping past the doorway and continuing down the hall.

The longsword was mounted on the wall in his father’s study. He’d eyed it many a time, fascinated by its lethal beauty and the chilling inscription etched into the blade.
Lex Talionis,
the law of revenge.

The blue steel blade snicked and hissed as he slid it from its mounting. Gripping the wolfs head pommel with both hands he laid the weapon cross-shoulder and went back for his sister. He arrived just in time to see the bullet-headed man grab Caroline by her arm and wrench her to her feet. His fingers itched and he brought his weapon forward, silent, shifting his grip so he held it like a spear for stabbing. Not yet, though. He waited for them to turn away.

“Come, little mistress.” The man gave Caroline a shake. “Tell us where it is, or what you’ve heard, and we’ll leave you in peace to play with your dollies.”

“Speak for yourself, Harris,” the blond man said. “She’s too old for dolls, that one, and we’ve other things she can play with.”

Bullet-head shook her again, and then fisted his hand in what remained of her dress and lifted her of the ground, so her feet had to scrabble for purchase. “Is that right, pretty mistress? You want to play games?” he cooed.

Caroline was sobbing and pleading, fighting for air as the collar of her dress cut off her breath, trying to tell them she didn’t know. She didn’t understand what they wanted.

“Get on with it, gentlemen,” the black-haired one snapped, apparently more sober than the rest. “There’s militia in the area. We haven’t all day. It’s clear she knows nothing. Finish her, Johnny, and let’s be gone.”

“Well, that’s a bloody waste of an evening,” Johnny Harris protested. “I’ve got a use for her if the rest of you don’t. Move on if you please, lads. I shan’t be long.”

“Pah,” Golden Hair spat. “Let’s all have a go, then. ’Tis only sporting. “ He joined the one named Johnny and yanked at her skirt.

Caroline began a desperate struggle, clawing and kicking.

“Enough, you damn fools,” the man with the curved blade shouted. “If I have to I’ll cut her throat myself.” He rose and started in her direction, and there was no more time left.

The force that held him frozen loosened its grip. It was as if time had stopped, trapping him outside it, only letting him observe—then started again so that everything came at him in a rush. He raised his sword high over his head and it was then that Caroline saw him. Their eyes locked for an instant, hers horrified, imploring, trying to give him some message but it was lost in the commotion as he charged. He barreled forward with all his strength, screaming his fury, his target the man approaching her with the knife.

Slow and sodden and unprepared, his target wheeled too late, his curved blade just nicking his young attacker’s cheek before the longsword caught him through the belly and impaled him against the wall.

The child, who’d never killed before, blinked in shock. It didn’t feel real. It felt like the force of surprise and his own momentum had carried the thing, not him. But now he’d lost both, and try as he might he couldn’t pull out the sword.

A liquor jug hit him full force in the back of his head, knocking him off his feet.

“Bloody hell! Poor Humboldt! Killed by a marauding child! And he was to marry his heiress next month.” It was the blond man.

“Aye. A pity. And not how one wants to be remembered,” the handsome one said to sniggers all the way round.

He scrambled backward on his elbows and heels, desperately feeling for the dropped sword he’d seen earlier. The moment he found it, he jumped to his feet. He pointed it at them, holding it steady. “Let her go!”

“Do you know what I’m going to do with that sword, boy?” the rat man whispered. “I’m going to slit you from throat to belly and fry your entrails.”