“Very easy for you to say, indeed,” she stated, cooling herself with her white lace fan, knowing it was impossible for her to relax.
“Easy, you think?” Aleck asked, his eyebrow arching. While Chandra had been considering her comfort in dress, her comment referring to such, Aleck was pondering a physical comfort of a different sort. Belated as his regret might be, the last thing he desired was to incur the king’s anger. Howbeit, because of all that had happened, the strong possibility existed that the executioner’s axe would meet his neck. “Not so, milady. I don’t relish sitting in the Tower with the likes of Raleigh and the others, invariably waiting.”
She frowned. If anyone is subject to his wrath, ’twill be me. “Is that where he’ll send you—to the Tower?” she asked, her mind just digesting all that he’d said.
“If not to my death.”
Chandra blinked. It was one thing for her to desire his end, but for their king to do so was another matter altogether. Especially when it was James who’d caused the entire debacle. Had he not meddled in Chandra’s and Aleck’s lives, none of what had followed would have transpired. Chandra now faulted James for all that had come to pass. “I hope the Tower alone is your punishment, should he decide to chasten you.”
“Thank you,” Aleck said, a touch of drollness in his voice. “And I wish the same to you, milady.”
“Me?” she asked incredulously, missing the fact that he teased her. “Is my life also at risk?”
“’Tis a possibility,” he replied, glancing at his fingernails, continuing the jest. “One never knows with James.”
“I thought you said he was quite amicable.”
“He is, usually. But lately he’s been beset by a succession of disobedient subjects. I doubt he’ll abide any more. A word of warning—whatever he says, whatever he requests, keep in agreement with him. ’Tis the only way to ward off disaster.”
Since arriving here yesterday, Chandra had heard snatches of talk about the latest uproar to encompass the court. James’s cousin, Arabella Stuart, heir to the throne after James and his progeny, had defied her sovereign’s edict that she not marry without his permission, secretly wedding William Seymour, who was twelve years Arabella’s junior. Chandra imagined that at five-and-thirty the woman had grown weary of waiting and, having fallen in love, decided she’d wait no more. They were discovered, however, and James, livid over the challenge to his authority, had banished the aging Arabella to Lambeth and young Seymour to the Tower.
The deed, to Chandra’s estimation, was done probably more out of fear than anger, for William also held claim to the throne, a definite threat to James. Ever resourceful, the two lovers, with the aid of friends, had managed to escape their prisons. Disguised as a lad, Arabella had fled to the Thames estuary where she’d boarded ship. William, dressed as a carter, had ambled out the Tower gates under the guards’ noses. Having missed his rendezvous with Arabella, he also set sail for France. But sadly, the pair were not reunited. William had found his freedom, while poor Arabella was ultimately recaptured. She now sat in the Tower, her heart undoubtedly broken.
Should she say or do the least little thing that James thought unacceptable, would she and Arabella find themselves close neighbors? Chandra wondered. Fearing so, she quickly decided she’d not pose even a shred of opposition to her sovereign, no matter what he required. “I’ll hold your warning fast. ’Tis Scotland I wish to see, not the Tower.”
“And I, the north of England. Besides, the place leaks,” he said of the old the old Norman fortress and its many additions. “The sort of exercise I most enjoy does not include running about a musty old room, bucket in hand, catching the rain as it pours through the cracks in the ceiling.”
Throaty laughter erupted next to Aleck. Both he and Chandra turned toward its source. “From my own experience, I can attest it does not,” Felicia said, moving a step nearer the couple. Cognizant of the man and his mannerisms, she noticed he’d grown tense, guarded, but she was not deterred. “’Tis well known that what you most enjoy is usually done indoors, dearest Montbourne, but I’ve yet to see you do it with a bucket. An intriguing notion, is it not? Perhaps you’ll someday devise a use for the thing. You are, after all, exceedingly creative and extremely adept.”
Aleck turned slightly. The move placed him between his ward and his former mistress. “Lady Emory,” he greeted, his voice cool.
She suspected Aleck hadn’t recognized the significance of his action, but its underlying meaning was not lost on Felicia. His sudden protective stance, alongside the formality of his address, shouted tomes. Jealousy rippled through her, but she masked the emotion with an appealing smile, one she knew attracted masculine attention. “Lord Montbourne,” she responded with a stately nod, then moved around Aleck. “This must be your inexperienced young ward, the Lady Laylock.”
“Lochlaigh,” Chandra corrected, noticing how the woman’s indifferent gaze traversed her from head to foot, stopping briefly at Chandra’s exposed bosom. The Lady Emory seemed to have found her lacking.
“Yes, forgive me. Scottish names are so very difficult to remember,” Felicia stated dismissively. Her feather fan brushed the tip of her chin. “This is your first time at court, I presume. Should you stay long, you shall become more accustomed to the events here. In fact, I’m certain you’ll quickly become one of us. In the meantime, there is much to see, learn, and do.” Her fan quickly hid the side of her face. “When you are ready, and if you are daring enough to slip from under your guardian’s ever watchful eye,” she said in a loud aside, “there are several attractive men whom I’m certain you’d relish meeting.” Over the fan’s feathers, she glimpsed Aleck as she named names. “And, of course, there is Lord Whitfield.”
Aleck’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, for the man she’d mentioned was a renowned rake. Aleck knew him well. Too well, in fact.
Pleased that she’d been able to cause him some anxiety, Felicia smiled to herself. “Let me know when you feel adventurous. We’ll explore together,” she said, the fan falling from her face. “I do hope your stay is highly educational as well as enjoyable.” With a wave, she swept into the gay multitude, seeking out yet another member of the court.
Puzzled by the episode, Chandra stared after the woman until at last she was swallowed by the crowd. A question on her lips, she turned to her guardian. His eyes were shuttered by his long lashes, but she could see that he, too, watched after the beautiful Lady Emory. Instantly, Chandra’s confusion cleared. They were lovers—or at least, they had been. Wishing she could deny it, but knowing she could not, Chandra felt strangely grieved by the knowledge. She pushed the unnerving sensation aside; then she reviewed the woman’s actions, more so than her words. The break between the couple had been recent. They had quarreled, it was apparent. Then, in her mind, the query surfaced: Had she, Chandra, been the source of their rift?
Aleck’s attention turned toward the young woman beside him, whereupon he saw that she studied him intently. He could only imagine what thoughts tumbled through her head. Despite her naiveté, her woman’s sense had alerted her to the truth. He’d not attempt to deny it, but he was determined to keep his ward away from the vindictive Felicia. The woman seemed want to destroy Chandra’s innocence; already had the man chosen for her ruin. The debaucher would die first, Aleck vowed, as would anyone who dared touch her. Of course, Felicia’s cloaked threat might be false, meant simply to mock him. The entire conversation might have been staged as retaliation for his having abruptly ended their liaison, but Aleck could not risk the threat coming true. Intent on keeping his ward from harm, he said, “You shall stay far from the Lady Emory while we are here. Do not seek to trick me, either. For should I see you with her, or hear that you have been together, you will suffer for your disobedience. Is that clear?”
Chandra disliked his tone and opened her mouth to tell him so. But before she could speak, a trumpet sounded, heralding James’s arrival in the Presence Room. Following the lead of the other wom
en close by, Chandra sank into a deep if rather awkward curtsy, while beside her, Aleck posed an elegant bow. She promised herself that she’d practice the act of respect further, then peered through her lashes toward the throne. Having come from behind a curtain, her king crossed the area, his gait a strange sort of hobble. Unkempt he appeared, and Chandra wondered if it was true that he bathed not at all, changing his clothes only on special occasions, as Winnie said.
“Rise, my children. Rise,” he called after he was seated, waving everyone upward.
“Children?” Chandra whispered to Aleck.
“Aye. He thinks he is father to us all, whether we be Scottish or English.”
“Since he is king, I suppose he can think whatever he likes. Who would dare dispute him?”
“No one, if he is wise.”
Blond and tall, a young man stepped up to the throne. When he’d bowed before the king, his hand was quickly captured by James’s and pressed to the king’s cheek. A frown creased Chandra’s brow. “Who is he?” she inquired, watching the affectionate display.
“’Tis Robert Carr.”
“And the young woman?” she asked, noticing the beauty who came forward to stand at Carr’s side when he stepped away from his king.
“She is Frances, Countess of Essex.”
As Chandra watched, the couple smiled into each other’s eyes. “They appear to be quite smitten—no, very much in love,” she commented. “Are they betrothed?”
“No.”
“Are they to be?”
A heavy sigh flowed through Aleck’s lips. “I doubt it. But one cannot fully say.” He saw Chandra’s questioning look. “The countess is already married to the Earl of Essex. Unless Essex dies or the marriage is somehow miraculously annulled, there seems to be little chance of the two lovers marrying. Besides, for the moment, Carr is James’s favorite.”
“Favorite?” she asked in complete innocence.
Aleck paused, assessing Chandra. “There is much you will discover while at court,” he said at last, “most of it startling to one who has had little experience in the ways of the world. I caution you to watch and to listen, but also to keep your tongue tight between your teeth, lest you give offense. What might seem unnatural to you or to me is quite normal for another. It is not for us to understand, only to accept.”
“So?” she asked, not understanding him in the least.
“So, when I or anyone else uses the word favorite at court, it means far more than what you may imagine. Carr and our king are involved, Chandra. They also are lovers.”
“Oh,” she said, her mouth having worked several times before the word finally slipped out. “I shall be most careful to keep secret what you’ve shared.” She frowned. Carr and the married countess were paramours, as were Carr and their king. But what of Anne? “Does his queen know?” she asked, still confused by it all.
Aleck’s low laughter rumbled forth. “It is no secret, little one. Anne knows, as does everyone else. Simply protect yourself and do not speak of it openly. It is the wisest course to take.”
Chandra thought they were all to one degree or another immoral, her guardian included. “I shall heed your words,” she said, certain it was risky not to.
“It would be prudent if you did so all the time, especially while we are here. In fact, I bid that you do.”
He yet held rightful claim as her guardian, but Chandra still bristled whenever he issued her an order. Despite her indignation, she smiled sweetly. “Since I do not plan to be at court long, doing so should not present too great a problem. Actually, I welcome your advice, for as you say, I have very limited experience in these matters. You English, however, seem quite comfortable with everything that goes on. I imagine I’ll learn a lot by watching not simply you, but also your peers. From what I’ve heard and seen heretofore, I’d say all of you are masters of decadence,” she said, already forgetting to keep her thoughts quieted.
Studying Chandra, Aleck thought about her words. As to the latter, her impressions were fair, and so long as she voiced them only to him, there should be no problem. As to the former, he could not help but wonder if she hoped to learn significantly more than what he thought necessary. She baited him, he knew. Yet to what limits was she willing to go? And from which of his peers would she seek her knowledge? None, he decided, vowing she’d stay forever innocent. “Provided you merely watch and remain uninvolved, there will be no difficulty, Chandra. At least, not between us. However, if you cross the boundary, that is when you and I will have at it.”
Her jaw set, Chandra stared at him. An ultimatum, was it? “Much as we did when you first crossed unbidden onto Morgan lands, I suppose?”
“Far more heated and much more devastating, I fear. Being older and certainly more clever, I am not prone to playing childish pranks. You are now in my territory. Here I play a man’s game. Disregard my commands, little one, and you’ll fast discover what the contest is really all about.”
“I presume the Lady Emory is one such casualty of your manly play?”
“When she entered the game, she knew the rules. Be assured, the woman is no novice. Hence she is able to protect herself well. You, my sweet innocent, cannot.”
“I may lack sophistication in some areas, milord, but know I am very astute in others. I am not a fool.”
“Then do not test me. Whatever it is that you plan to do, know that in me you have met your match.”
Chandra had not planned to do anything. Still, her guardian had become quite agitated at the idea, though she knew not why. Once she discovered what it was that disturbed him, she intended to use the information to unhinge him further. He could consider it payment in kind for all the misery he’d caused her. “You might think you can best me,” she said, “but don’t venture too strongly that it is so. Besides, we are no longer at Montbourne. This is James’s territory, and it is now his game we must play.”
“Aye,” Aleck agreed, “but until our sovereign pronounces otherwise, I am your guardian. Therefore, for now, the game is still mine, Chandra, and so are the rules.”
“Then I shall seek to change those rules.”
“How?”
“I’ll speak to James.”
“When he is ready, he will summon us.”
“And when might we expect such?” she asked.
“It could be tonight, tomorrow, a week hence, even a month. With James, one never knows. He is aware we are here. When he is ready, he will give summons.”
“A month?” she nearly cried, and saw his nod. “Why, then, am I standing here, pressed into your late wife’s clothing, ridiculous as it looks, when I could be elsewhere, truly enjoying myself at that?”
“Because,” he said, his gaze raking over her, “our king may just decide to call us forth tonight. For the clothing, Chandra, it is not Elinor’s. Upon our arrival, our queen inquired if you needed anything. I informed her that you were without suitable clothing to appear at court. She is the one who sent the attire to you, evidently hoping to make you feel comfortable so that you might enjoy your stay.”
Chandra felt duly chastened. She had made an assumption based on very few facts. All she had known was that Winnie had presented her with the gowns and other accessories, then made the necessary alterations after Chandra tried each one on. Naturally she’d thought the clothing had been brought with them from Montbourne. Who else but Elinor would have had such finery? But obviously her assumption had been wrong. Even if she’d been correct, her spiteful comment had been uncalled for. “I spoke out of turn. It was rude of me to do so. I apologize.”
“’Tis Anne of Denmark who should hear your apology, not I.” Aleck looked toward the area where James sat. “It seems, little one, the opportunity to excuse yourself has just presented itself.”
Chandra turned toward the dais even as the queen’s arrival was heralded. As with James, deep curtsies and elegant bows marked the gathering’s show of reverence for Anne. When Chandra lifted herself from her curtsy, she felt Aleck’s ha
nd grip her arm. “What are you doing?” she demanded as he started propelling her toward the dais.
“You wanted to offer your regrets, didn’t you? This is your chance.”
Her heels dug into the floor. “She knows nothing of my error. ’Tis you whom I offended. ’Tis from you I ask forgiveness.”
Aleck pulled up. “Then you do not wish to meet our queen?”
“Not yet.”
“And James?”
“I am not ready to face him either.”
“Then we’ll wait until we are summoned,” he said, his hold relaxing. “Until then, I ask that you grant me your trust. My experience, Chandra, far outweighs yours. If I issue orders, it is done simply to protect you. So do not pose me any problems. Please?”
A trumpet sounded again, and Chandra was saved the need to reply. “What’s happening?” she asked, watching as James, Anne, and those in their close company stepped forward.
“We are about to begin the banquet. After we’ve eaten, we are to be entertained by one of the queen’s masques.”
After the royal entourage had seated themselves, the rest were ordered to take their places. Approaching her own chair, Aleck beside her, Chandra attempted to descend gracefully onto it, but the farthingale prevented any such move. Each time she lowered herself, her skirt popped up. So did Chandra, for she feared the thing would fly completely over her head. Hearing Aleck’s deep rumbling laughter, she turned a cold eye on him. “What, milord, causes your mirth?”
Spying the frigidness in her eyes, he sobered. “Not a thing,” he fibbed, trying to bite back his grin. “If milady will allow me to help her, we can both join in the feast.” At Chandra’s nod, he lifted her skirt from behind; his ward nearly fell into her seat. “’Tis tricky, but you’ll soon achieve mastery of it.”
“I do not plan to be here that long.”
Lord of Legend Page 17
