by C. J. Archer
"That's all of the ones here," he said with bored indifference. "There will be others who don't come to court. If you ask about, I'm sure you'll learn who they are."
She glanced at the girls huddled together as if sharing a secret. None took any notice of Cat or Slade. "Can you introduce me to some ladies of your acquaintance then?"
He cast his eye over the audience below. "I know no ladies here."
She couldn't tell from his tone whether that troubled him or not. After all, he must also be in search of a wife, now that he'd gained the title. She was about to ask him if that were so when he moved away.
"My lord, wait!" She clutched his arm again but let go upon seeing the anger brewing in his dark eyes. "Where shall I meet you when it comes time to leave?"
"Make your own way back to the house. I don't know how late I'll be."
"My own way! But I have no escort."
"You're hardly an innocent girl in need of protection. Besides, it's not far."
Indeed it wasn't. Hislop had secured rooms for them in a house fronting Charing Cross, since the palace was full and Slade wasn't important enough to warrant accommodations within its walls. Still, a woman walking alone even that short distance at night was courting danger. Slade ought to have more care for her. She might not be legally under his protection, but he had a moral responsibility at the very least.
"I cannot believe your callousness," she hissed. Her own rage had begun to build. She had largely suppressed it since Stephen's death, not wishing to upset the man upon whose good will she relied upon, but there was only so much indignity she could endure. "Where is your gentlemanly honor? Your duty to your brother?"
But Slade wasn't looking at her. His attention was fixed on something down below in the Presence Chamber. Cat followed his gaze to a gentleman standing near the entrance, hands arrogantly on hips, a sapphire blue cape around his shoulders and a hat that wouldn't have looked out of place in a birdcage, it sported so many long feathers shooting from the crown. The hat obscured his face, but not his figure. Even from a distance, Cat could see he was leaner than most of the men there, and considerably younger. Indeed, he moved into the Presence Chamber with an assured swagger and an air of superiority that only a youth possessed, and an important one at that.
Everyone seemed to know him. Gentlemen clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, ladies curtsied low or offered up simpering smiles. One of the more brazen ones stepped into his path and thrust out her considerable chest. He made a great show of bowing over her hand before kissing it. She cast a conceited smile at those around her and glowed with satisfaction.
Slowly conversations fell silent around him as he moved through the crowd to the queen. Even the girls near Cat stopped their giggling long enough to gasp and whisper.
"Lord Oxley is here," one said, breathy.
"Look at his fine legs," said her friend, giggling into her hand.
"I hear there are other fine things about him," said another, leaning over the balcony to get a better look. "Things only a lover would know."
That set off her friends again and they collapsed into snickers that would have had their mothers scolding them for unladylike behavior.
"Who is he?" Cat asked Slade.
"The Earl of Oxley."
"And why is he such a curiosity?" The silver-gray feathers on Oxley's hat, unlike any she'd seen before, shivered with each step, far above the heads of everyone else. "Aside from his flamboyant hat, that is."
"He's a favorite of the queen, but he rarely attends court by all accounts."
"I wonder why he's here now."
"A matter of business? To look for a wife? I don't care."
"He's not married or betrothed? A man in his position?" How odd.
"He's eccentric by all accounts and hasn't chosen a bride yet. Don't get your hopes up, Cat. He can command a bride worth a hundred times more than you."
At least he hadn't mentioned Cat's plain looks again. It would seem her financial difficulty was more of an impediment in the marriage stakes.
"And a thousand times prettier."
Or perhaps not.
The earl removed his cape with a spectacular flourish that seemed to amuse the queen. He threw the cape at her slippered feet and bowed down on one knee. Cat couldn't hear their exchange, but it was clear that he was making a gift of the cape.
"What would Her Majesty do with a gentleman's cape?" she asked.
"Do you not see the fastenings at the collar?" Slade asked. As he said it, the two large button-like fastenings flashed in the torchlight.
"Sapphires," she said on a gasp.
"Oxley is as wealthy as the queen herself. Those baubles are probably spare ones he had lying about."
Her Majesty leaned forward, her head slightly bent, listening to whatever Oxley was saying. She seemed to be hanging on his every word. Then she fell back, giggling behind her hands like a girl. Oxley bowed low once more and backed away. Cat tracked his movement to a group of overdressed dandies nearby and watched as he fell into raucous conversation with them.
"Oh do look up here," pleaded one of the girls peering down at Oxley. "I want to see that divine face."
As if he'd heard her, the earl tilted his head back and looked up. He scanned the scattering of people on the balcony, nodding at some and bowing elaborately to the group of girls which set their giggles off again. His gaze continued and slipped over Slade and Cat before flicking back again. Even from a distance Cat could see he wasn't as young as she'd first thought. He had a strong jaw and finely chiseled nose and cheeks. His skin was browner than she expected, the hair blonder. The contrast had a warm, handsome effect. Even more mesmerizing was his mouth. It was full without being womanly, and curved into a wicked bow. When first he'd skimmed over them, he'd sported an arrogant smile, but it vanished upon the second inspection. Then there were his eyes. She may not have been able to see them well, but she'd wager they were a remarkable shade of blue. A man as beautiful as the earl of Oxley simply must have blue eyes. Whatever color, they were staring directly at her with an intensity that warmed her belly and further south. No man of such beauty had ever looked at her like that. Like he could see into her. Like he knew her.
He suddenly looked away, the inspection over. It had been as brief as it had been powerful. The effects of it, however, lingered long after he moved on. Cat's heart beat strong in her chest, having momentarily stopped beneath his scrutiny. Her face heated, her limbs too. Indeed, she felt hot all over.
"He seemed to take an interest in you." Slade sounded surprised, or perhaps just disbelieving. He frowned down at Oxley, now in conversation with the gentlemen and ladies crowding around him. "Come on." He grabbed Cat's elbow.
"Where are we going?" she asked, struggling to walk casually alongside him and not draw attention to the fact he was gripping her much too hard.
"To strike while the iron is hot and before the dozens of other desperate wenches get in before you."
"My lord?"
They passed the girls who were now openly watching Cat with sneers on their painted mouths. "We're going to meet the earl of Oxley, and you are going to charm him."
Cat felt sick.
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
EPILOGUE
A MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY C.J. ARCHER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Excerpt of THE SINNER
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