To Court, Capture and Conquer
Amanda McCabe
London, 1589
Lord Edward Hartley plans to get revenge against Sir Thomas Sheldon, the man who destroyed his brother, by stealing Sheldon’s intended bride. Standing in his way is Lady Elizabeth Gilbert, the girl’s chaperone and a reputed paragon of virtue.
Yet Edward cannot help but notice the sensual longing in her eyes. He is sure that her cool exterior conceals a passion waiting to be set free. And when Edward kidnaps Elizabeth by mistake, neither can resist unleashing their desire….
I admit it—Shakespeare in Love is one of my favorite movies! It’s such a romantic, witty, joyful look at the theatrical life in Elizabethan times, and I find new things in it every time I re-watch. (And Joseph Fiennes in that leather doublet doesn’t hurt to look at, either…)
But my love of the Elizabethan theatre scene started much earlier, when I was eight years old and my parents took me to see my first Shakespeare play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I was infatuated, and started reading everything I could about the period! This led to studying Elizabethan poetry in college (so useful for finding real-world jobs—not!) and seeing Shakespeare plays every chance I get (including a magical night at the new Globe Theatre in London, seeing Dream again!). It’s a time of such vital, explosive creativity and energy, and massive changes in society. The perfect backdrop for romance hero and heroines and their passions!
I had so much fun meeting Edward and Elizabeth, and getting a taste of their world in To Court, Capture and Conquer. We’ll see them again next year in the story of actor/playwright/spy Robert Alden and his unpredictable heroine Anna Barrett. And we’ll also find out what happens to Sir Thomas Sheldon. Stay tuned, and visit my website, http://ammandamccabe.com, for excerpts and behind-the-book info…
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
About the Author
Chapter One
London, 1589
“They say she is a virgin, pure and chaste as a new snowfall.”
“Do they now?” In the roar of the playhouse, Lord Edward Hartley could hardly hear the muttered words of his friend Robert Alden. But their meaning was loud and clear.
This was the chance for him to take his revenge. The “pure and chaste” virgin who sat in the gallery across from Edward’s box, all golden curls and wide blue eyes as she watched the stage, would bring as end to his torment.
If he could ignore the spasm of disgust he felt at the thought. Disgust for the villain who forced him to this desperate end—or disgust at himself for seizing such a low chance?
Edward shoved away that obnoxious twinge of conscience. Sir Thomas Sheldon had shown Edward’s innocent brother no mercy. Edward could show none now.
“No doubt such purity is exactly what Sir Thomas values in her,” he said.
“So they say,” Robert answered. Rob Alden was Edward’s friend, despite the fact that they came from different worlds. Edward served Queen Elizabeth at Court, advancing his family’s position with his skills in the joust and at swordplay, as well as in the dance, while Rob was a playwright and actor, a connoisseur of London’s low streets and stews.
But the taverns, brothels and gambling halls cared not where their coin came from, and the two men frequented the same hells. They also gleaned and shared valuable information from their various contacts, high and low. Which was how Rob came to discover that Sir Thomas Sheldon intended to take the virginal sixteen-year-old Jane Courtwright as his blushing bride.
Jane was usually sequestered at her family’s grand house by the river, seldom seen at Court. Her appearance at the playhouse today was fortunate.
She was a pretty girl; Edward saw that. A gold-and-white doll in her fine blue velvet gown. Her plump, downy cheeks were pink with the pleasure of being out in the world, of watching the antics on the stage and the colorful crowd in the yard below. Poor lamb, she was obviously ripe for Sheldon’s slaughter. Yet another victim of the man’s greed.
“What could her parents be thinking?” Rob said. “Sheldon must be thirty years older than her, and two hundred pounds heavier. She’ll be crushed in the marriage bed.”
“And out of it, too. That is what Sheldon does—destroys innocence wherever he finds it,” Edward answered. He thought not just of the unfortunate Jane Courtwright, but of his brother Jamie, who had been just as young and wide-eyed as she, just as eager to embrace the world without really knowing it. Until Sheldon destroyed him.
That was what Edward had to remember now. His brother, and the revenge he owed Jamie. He couldn’t afford pity for the girl. She would just have to learn the cold ways of the world, as Edward had.
“I think I know what her parents are thinking,” he continued. “Money. They do say at Court that the girl’s family are quite bankrupt. Entertaining the Queen so lavishly at their country estate last summer cost them their last farthing. No doubt Sheldon will pay handsomely for their daughter’s purity.”
Rob tapped his ink-stained fingers against the wooden railing of the box. “He would be enraged if that purity was…exaggerated. Mother Nan at the brothel across the alley says he wants only young, virginal whores—or ones good at playing the virgin, anyway. He pays well for it.”
“And what would he pay for a wife’s virginity?”
“I see your plan,” Rob said. His blue eyes narrowed as he watched the girl. “But have you the stomach for it, my friend? I know you’ve bided your time, patiently waiting for this day, but I know you. You’re no Sheldon.”
Edward gave a harsh laugh. “It’s true I don’t share his taste for dewy purity. Virginity is most overrated as a commodity. But as much as Sheldon is paying for the girl’s actual intact state, he’s also paying for the appearance of her innocence. Sheldon certainly values his worldly reputation above all else. I won’t hurt the girl, Rob. I only mean to give Sheldon public cause to fight me at last. The girl will be well rid of him.”
“And then you will disgrace him before the world, deprive him of all he holds dear.”
“Yes,” Edward said simply. That was the one thing he had been living for ever since Jamie died—to take his vengeance on Sheldon at last. The rest of life had been merely grim survival. Meaningless.
Rob shook his head. “It is your right to expose Sheldon, and no one would say you nay if they knew the true circumstances.”
And if Sheldon had not been able to hide his nefarious deeds behind a veneer of respectability for so many years. Edward needed to be sure the man’s disgrace was complete. “This will expose him to the world at last.”
“But it’s well known here in Southwark that he’s a cheat. Surely he would cheat in a duel, too, if it came to that. If he killed you…”
“Then it would still be at an end. I would be gone from this world, and the Queen would be furious with Sheldon for robbing her of her favorite courtier.”
“Her favorite handsome face, you mean.”
Edward laughed. “He won’t kill me. I’m younger and stronger, and I’ve been practicing for this day for a long time. Once he is disgraced at Court he won’t be able to come near any of us again.”
Rob nodded, but Edward could still see the doubt in his friend’s eyes. Rob’s methods were more direct—a rapier in a dark alley, a tavern brawl. But Edward had to expose Sheldon to the world for the villain he was. And Jane Courtwright was the means to do that.
Rob suddenly slammed his fist on the railing. “God’s blood!” he shouted. “The varlet has ruined my words again.”
Ethan Camp,
the company’s clown, cavorted on the stage below, declaiming an improvised speech of his own devising instead of Rob’s written lines. Rob ran from the box, slamming the door behind him, and Edward was left alone with his dark thoughts.
He leaned his forearm on the railing to study Jane Courtwright. The White Heron Theater, open to the gray sky above and filled with people for the afternoon’s play, placed Edward’s private box across the yard from Mistress Courtwright’s second-story gallery and gave him an excellent view. She was laughing at the clown’s antics, her eyes shining as she fidgeted on the narrow wooden bench and clapped her hands.
Suddenly, a hand in a pale gray kid glove touched Jane’s arm, and Edward’s attention swung to her companion. It was a woman, older than Jane but still young, clad in a simple, well-cut doublet and skirt of gray velvet trimmed with gold satin. Shining red-brown hair was gathered into a gold caul and covered with a tall-crowned gray hat. Beneath it her face was a pale oval with a few golden freckles over her high cheekbones, and brown eyes that missed nothing around her. She whispered in Jane’s ear, and the younger girl immediately settled down on her seat.
“God’s blood,” Edward muttered, echoing Rob’s curse. Lady Elizabeth Gilbert—and she appeared to be the girl’s chaperone. How would he get around her?
He had encountered Lady Elizabeth a few times at Court. She was the daughter of an earl, the widow of a wealthy baron, and she served as one of the Queen’s ladies. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, and many gentlemen had tried their luck with her, hoping to find their way into her bed. What they usually found instead was a slap to the face or a sharp knee to the groin.
Lady Elizabeth Gilbert was an impregnable fortress of virtue, despite her gorgeous hair and fine bosom, and despite some initial temptation, Edward had decided he valued his testicles too much to try her.
Now here she was with Jane Courtwright. No doubt she would be as fierce in protecting her charge’s virtue as she was her own. This was an obstacle he had not counted on.
Lady Elizabeth looked across the theater just then, and her gaze caught his. Her eyes widened but she didn’t look away. For an instant her face was unveiled, the cool, distant expression she usually wore gone. She appeared startled and flustered, a faint pink blush touching her cheeks. Her lush lips, so full and sensual and at odds with her virtuous reputation, parted.
Edward suddenly had a vision of kissing those lips. He imagined catching her gasp with his mouth and feeling her softness against him. What would she taste like, feel like? Surely her chilly exterior concealed a passion long suppressed, just waiting to be set free.…
Then that cool mask fell back over her face, and she looked like her usual disapproving self. His vision of sex and kisses, of Elizabeth Gilbert’s naked body against his, faded.
She gave him a curt nod and turned away. Jane Courtwright glanced across the playhouse to what her companion looked at, and her head tilted in curiosity when she saw Edward. He gave her a slow, admiring smile, the smile that so often worked a charming magic on the ladies of Court. Jane giggled and blushed a bright pink before Elizabeth tapped her arm and Jane turned away.
He had made a beginning with the girl. But strangely, he had the cold, hollow feeling that it wasn’t Jane Courtwright he wanted to capture.
Chapter Two
“Aunt Bess, who is that man?”
Lady Elizabeth Gilbert stared fixedly at the stage below and tried to ignore the man who sat across the playhouse, watching her. She was all too aware of his attention; it was as if she could feel the regard of his gray eyes on her skin, and it burned like the glow of summer sunshine. It made her long to jump out of her seat, to run, and it took every bit of her strength to hold on to her calm, still demeanor.
Or maybe it was Jane he watched. Her beautiful, sweet niece attracted attention wherever she went, even though Jane took no notice of it at all. That was probably why Elizabeth’s sister and her brutish husband kept the girl locked up all the time. It had taken all Elizabeth’s persuasions to get them to allow the poor child this outing. Jane was sixteen now; she deserved a little enjoyment in life before she was rushed into marriage, as Elizabeth had been at her age.
But Elizabeth’s marital ordeal was over. She had been a widow these two years now, since she was twenty-three. Jane’s hadn’t even begun. The poor, dear girl.
“What man, Jane?” she said, once she was sure her voice would be steady. Edward Hartley always had that effect on her, curse him. He was much too handsome, challenging her stern resolve to be done with men.
“That one in the box over there, of course! The man who was staring at you,” said Jane. “What a splendid doublet he’s wearing. Does everyone at Court dress like that?”
“When they are rich show-offs like Edward Hartley, they do,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Edward Hartley? Is that his name?”
“Lord Edward Hartley. He is the son of the earl of Pensworth.”
“An earl! And handsome, too.” Jane’s eyes, usually as blue and vacant as the summer sky, sharpened. “He does seem to admire you, Aunt Bess. He keeps looking at you like he’s starving and you’re a haunch of beef.”
Did he indeed? Elizabeth struggled not to peek to see if that was true. A haunch of beef! “He looks at all women. He’s one of the most notorious flirts at Court.”
“Really? Oh, I do wish I could go to Court and see it all for myself!”
“It’s very dull at Court, Jane. There’s naught to do all day but read and play primero, and listen to idle gossip.” And watch Edward Hartley whenever she thought he would not catch her at it. He didn’t need any more boosts to his vanity. All the young beauties at Court already chased after him, and he didn’t need a sensible widow doing the same.
Yet somehow she did not feel so very “sensible” when he was around. He made her wonder what it would be like to be in the bed of a man like that, instead of her old, wrinkled, grasping husband. What it would be like to kiss him, touch him, to have a lover she wanted? With one careless smile he made her feel…
Well, he made her feel things she never had before. Certainly not with her husband, whose fumblings and proddings under the sheets made her feel only cold and nauseous. But Court gossip said Lord Edward was most skilled.
Elizabeth dared to glance at him from under the narrow brim of her hat. He watched the stage now, and she could study him in safety for a moment without fear of discovery. He was known as one of the most handsome men in a palace filled with good-looking, well-dressed men, and with good reason. He had waving, glossy dark brown hair worn a little too long, brushing the high collar of his purple satin doublet. His face, all sharp, elegant angles, was bronzed, as if he spent much time in outdoor exercise and not just lurking in palace corridors. Though he was clean-shaven there was a shadow of beard along his hard jaw, and a gleaming pearl earring dangled there, white next to the dark skin.
The doublet was cut fashionably close to his body, hugging his strong shoulders and lean, muscled chest. He was no pale, doughy courtier, but a warrior.
A warrior who, it was rumored, spent much time on battlefields of romance, making conquests in the bedchamber.
Well, Elizabeth had no use for romance, or men who were too attractive and blatantly sensual, no matter what stray fantasies came into her mind. Her marriage had been a miserable disaster, and she was free at last to live her own life.
But surely life could include passion without marriage, if a woman was careful.…
Nay! Not for her. Not with Edward Hartley.
“How can Court be dull, Aunt Bess?” Jane said. She watched the stage with a dreamy glow in her eyes. The clown had been dragged offstage by a tall, furious-looking man and replaced by the pair of young lovers whose elopement started the action. They held hands and gazed into each other’s eyes as they uttered sweet vows of eternal love.
That surely wouldn’t end well.
“You hear tales of balls and pageants, Jane, and think every day at Co
urt must be like that,” Elizabeth said. “Yet it seldom is. Mostly it is just passing time.” And that was surely why she was having such ridiculous daydreams of Edward Hartley—she was bored. She needed to travel again, refurbish her house, distract herself.
“It can’t be as boring as living at home,” Jane said with a pout. “There is nothing at all to see or do there. No one to talk to. If it wasn’t for—”
Jane suddenly broke off, her face turning bright pink.
“If it wasn’t for what?” Elizabeth asked in sudden suspicion. It wasn’t like her niece to get into mischief—she was much too confined for that. Still, boredom could create strange situations.
“Nothing, Aunt Bess,” Jane said quickly. “Let’s just watch the rest of the play. I’m dying to see what the wicked grandfather will do next.”
Elizabeth nodded. She would let the girl watch the comedy in peace, but then she intended to find some answers. She couldn’t let Jane get into trouble.
She glanced back at Edward’s box, but he was gone. The space was empty. And she felt unaccountably disappointed. With a sigh she propped her elbow on the railing and watched the actors. Surely she cared naught if he was there! She saw enough of him at Court, flirting with the ladies, showing off his lean chest in too-tight doublets like a—a peacock.
Though that chest was rather nice, she had to admit that. Swordplay, tennis, tournaments—and, rumor said, brawling—had honed his tall body to a muscled hardness that looked much too good in his velvet and leather garments.
What would he look like out of them?
Cease this at once! Elizabeth told herself sternly. She curled her gloved hand into a tight fist and pounded it on the wooden balustrade, trying to ground herself in the real world and not in giddy fantasies.
She focused on the play as Jane did, and lost herself in the romance and action of the plot. It was a good story, this new tale by the famous playwright and poet Robert Alden, full of deep emotion and tearful sadness, and with a lively jig at the end. She even forgot about Edward Hartley for a time.
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