by Judith James
“Wel , Captain. You’re doubtless wondering why you are here.”
“Indeed, Majesty, I am.”
“It is that tyrant Elizabeth de Veres’s doing. I am fond of her, of course, but she’s been very cross with me for taking your lands.”
Robert clenched and unclenched his fists. “She had no business discussing it with you. I had not thought of her connection to you, nor did I seek her aid. I thought, as an old friend, she was discreet.” His voice was stiff.
The king threw back his head and laughed. “Captain! You are a warrior, sir, and know little of the ways of women.
Now you must accustom yourself to softer things. They are weaker than us physical y, but any man who things them weaker in other ways doesn’t know them at al . I, sir, make a study of them. I know them and love them very wel .
“So one hears, sire. Might I ask your point?”
“Some women were born to be generals. Elizabeth is one such, as I’m certain you know, and she has chosen to champion your cause. You mustn’t be annoyed with her.
She feels loyalty and affection for you. She values you enough to ask me to return your lands, and I value her enough to have thought on it. It is a great inconvenience of course. I shal have to find other lands for Lord Harris, though he was very keen on having yours.”
“Jonathon Harris? A bald man?”
“Yes, that’s him. Do you know him? I swear you’ve met every soul in London.”
Robert bared his teeth in a cold smile. “I am certain I crossed his path during the wars.” A thril of ice ran through his veins. The hunt was on! The man he chased now circled his home. Did the hunted think to become the hunter? Or was there some divine plan at work? Whatever happened, Harris must not be al owed to walk the hal s of Cressly.
“Doubtless you did. He fought for both sides as it swung to his advantage. Royalist, parliament, then royalist once more. I’m not terribly fond of him. Such men can’t be trusted. But there is a matter of politics involved. He is a useful man, much needed at the moment. You were an honest soldier, Captain, and a very good one. The general speaks highly of you. A commission for you based on his recommendation is something I’ve considered, but I’ve a problem you can help with, and the solution I have in mind should aid us both. If you agree to it, you wil keep your lands and I wil add the adjacent ones, as wel .”
“And how can I be of service to Your Majesty?”
“Please, cal me Charles.”
“What is it you want from me…Charles?”
“I want you to marry my mistress.”
Robert covered his shock by downing his drink. Had he heard the man correctly? “You want me to marry your mistress?”
“Yes. Hope Mathews. The one I brought you to meet this evening. She’s a charming little thing. I’m very fond of her.
But I am to be married soon, Captain. The court already cavils at her presence. Her social status is such that—”
“She is the one they cal the orange girl? The one who was a whore at The Merry Strumpet?”
The king stiffened. “They may cal her what they like. I assure you she’s far more innocent and has a finer character than many of the ladies here at court.”
“I don’t understand, Your Majesty. Why would you ask such a thing of me?”
“As I said, I am to be married soon. My bride wil be on English soil three weeks hence. No doubt you’ve noticed the preparations. Hope is very dear to me, but she is not of a fit social status to be accepted in the presence of my queen. If my court is to accept my wil in this it must be made palatable. A married mistress is far more acceptable than an unmarried one, and a titled lady far more acceptable than a street waif.”
“Can you not simply give her a title?”
“For her service to the crown?” The king chuckled heartily and poured them both another drink. “She has been a better friend to me than many who are more amply rewarded, but that I cannot do. Not without turning my court upside down and sending my wife in a fury back to Portugal. England needs this marriage. I can’t give her a title—” he pointed a long finger at Robert “—but you can.
Appearances matter here, Captain. The play is the thing, you see? She must marry a title and leave court for a while.
Until after the wedding and things are settled between my wife and my maîtresse-en-titre, Barbara. Then she may returned as a married lady—”
“Matters between—”
Charles held up his hand. “It is nothing. A bagatel e. Matters that are no concern of yours. What is your concern is my proposition. You wil marry her. Tonight. You wil remove her from London tonight. You wil keep your estates and those adjacent, and I wil give you a coronet to add to your coat of arms. You wil be named Baron Nichols, and created Earl of Newport. Henceforth Miss Mathews wil be a lady. A countess, no less. And those who felt themselves too grand for her shal look to you and regret it. You wil keep her wel and safe, and when I summon her to court, you wil parade her as a lady before them al .”
“So she won’t be my wife but your whore?”
“You wil treat her as the lady she is.” There was a sudden frost in his tone.
“And why have I been chosen for this singular honor?” Robert asked, ignoring it.
“Because Elizabeth assures me you are an honorable man who has shown her only kindness. I trust her judgment and assume you wil do the same for Hope. And because no other suitable gentleman of my court wil have her due to her lowly birth. Your great-grandfather had no title. He was a junior officer, barely a gentleman. Your grandfather was given a knighthood and your father made baronet for service to King James. You are a gentleman, but without noble roots so deep that you should fail to see the honor. I wil , of course, provide her with a generous dowry, as wel .
Such things never go amiss.” His eyes were calculating now, and slightly cold.
“And if I prefer General Monk’s offer?” He didn’t real y know why he asked. The matter was decided the moment the king mentioned Harris’s name. Perhaps it was the casual assumption that his honor was for sale he resented. He wasn’t inclined to make the thing easy for them when they both thought so little of him.
“You wil not be given that choice, Captain Nichols. General Monk has proven his loyalty to me. His service to myself and England are incalculable. You, on the other hand, could be a dangerous man. A disgruntled landless soldier, prepared to give his al egiance to a military commander before his king. We’ve had our fil of those. You have never served me. You have proven nothing. Do so now, Captain.
It is an opportunity that wil not come again.”
“To be clear…you are asking me to be a knowing cuckold, an accomplice to your own adultery, in order to save my lands?”
“Exactly. Yes. And you shal be amply rewarded for it. It doesn’t please me to put an honorable man in this position, Captain, but I can hardly entrust her to anyone less.” His Majesty’s sudden smile was ful of warmth and charm. “But what a poor host I am! Have some dinner. Enjoy the entertainment. Take some time to think. I must see to my lady. We wil speak again later, yes? Think careful y, though, Captain. It’s always better to make new friends.” He gave him a kindly pat on the shoulder. “She real y is a lovely girl. What have you got to lose?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
FROM DISPOSSESSED TO NOBLEMAN, suspect to royal favor, and hunter to hunted, the king had set his world to spinning like a master magician, with suggestion, distraction and sleight of hand. Though most of it was smoke and mirrors, two things were perfectly clear. His prey had resurfaced and was within his grasp, and the elfin beauty who had made him laugh had in fact been laughing at him. Tired of over-warm bodies and cloying perfume, Robert went in search of the garden. He passed the king and his hostess on the way. His Majesty, head bent, was listening intently as his lady whispered something in his ear.
Those innocent eyes were sparkling, her laughter sweet as music. Wondering if they laughed at him, he stepped outside.
The sounds of mu
rmured conversation and distant laughter fol owed him. He settled on a bench beside a gently flowing fountain, leaning his back against an arbor wal . He would never have imagined being summoned to court for this…
honor. What did one cal the paid cuckold to a king? Baron Nichols, Earl of Newport, he thought with mordent humor.
Titles he was supposed to accept with pride.
Wel , accept them he would. There was no other choice. He could never al ow one of his sister’s murderers to walk Cressly’s hal s. Not even for the length of time it took to kil him. To do so would be an unconscionable desecration and he knew a part of her, the last part he had, would be lost. He had to accept the girl…this marriage. Then Harris will be enraged, and will come after me. If he provokes a duel no blame will lay on my door. If he attacks me it will be self-defense. Either way he’ll be dead, and Caroline avenged.
He was wel aware of his future bride’s background. Al of London fol owed the exploits and intrigues of their amorous king. She was little better than a common prostitute, likely was one before she became the mistress of rich and titled men. He’d seen too much of war and abandoned women and children to judge what a person did to survive. Stil , it wasn’t the pedigree one sought in a wife, and it angered and offended him to be so casual y used.
Cuckold, pimp, pander, blind man. This is the duty my king and his lady look for from me. Better men have refused them. Prouder men have said no. General Monk serves England as soldier and statesman. I will serve her as stage dressing, for my adulterous king and his whore.
They had expected it of him. They had assumed him so grasping and venal that he’d sel his honor and his pride for a coronet, some land and a bag of gold. And I will. Not for riches, but revenge. He thought back to his last happy moment. That crisp midwinter night he’d kissed Kate Bishop, just moments before he heard his sister’s scream.
Poor lad. He’d had no idea vengeance was about to swal ow his life whole. He let out a long sigh. Or bring me so low.
The soft laughter he’d heard earlier had grown closer and wilder, interspersed now with shouts, clapping and cheers.
He got up to investigate, walking down the hedgerow and through a smal gap into the big garden backing on the park. The moon was new, barely a sliver, but the pitch-black sky glittered diamond bright overhead. It was a beautiful night, the air soft and gentle, and the trees stirred softly in the breeze. The doors from the salon were opened and the celebration had moved outside. Torches and candlelight il uminated the garden, bathing everything in it with a magical glow. There were acrobats and tumblers doing cartwheels and handsprings, and conjurers performing tricks with ropes and fire.
Mistress Mathews’s smiling servants skipped through the crowd handing out garlands and May baskets overflowing with tulips, iris and daisies, and stuffed with sweetmeats and nuts. His parents had disapproved of May Day celebrations, but he had often snuck down to the vil age to join the fun. The king’s nymph was enchanting, clapping and dancing, and her merry laugh made him smile. He couldn’t stop a rueful chuckle. The wicked Miss Mathews wasn’t real y at fault. It wasn’t she who had chosen him, and for the sake of enjoyment he let his resentment and anger slip away. Besides, they may think to use me for their own ends, but after tonight she is mine.
His smile turned into a grin as the sound of drumming, clapping sticks and jingling bel s announced the arrival of a troupe of morris dancers, traditional entertainers costumed as beast men. There were wolves and bears and antlered gentlemen, and some half man, half horse. They performed a number of lively folk dances as the servants brought the food outside, the household musicians joined in and the wine freely flowed.
A fiddler and piper broke away, slipping through a slim gated arch in the hedge. Mistress Mathews was close behind them. Wearing a necklace of wildflowers, her midnight hair hanging loose to her waist, skipping barefoot over the moon-silvered grass, leading her flock of gaily bedecked guests into the starlit groves and fields of St.
James Park. He fol owed, completely enthral ed. They stopped in the middle of a brightly lit clearing to exclamations of delight. Standing in the center was a tal birch pole, its branches removed except at the top.
Garlands, ribbons and wildflowers wrapped around its length. The piper blew a high note, cal ing for silence, and Miss Mathews’s voice, sounding fine and clear, carried above the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Dear friends al . His Majesty would like to remind you, ‘It is now past midnight and tomorrow is today.’ He bids me tel you, ‘There’s not a budding boy, or girl, this day, but is got up, and gone to bring in May.’” There were shouts and cheers and laughter. The piper played a sprightly tune and clapping and dancing and singing along, some of the greatest lords and ladies of the land joined in to dance around the maypole. Robert watched her dance with her arms thrown up to the heavens.
Not for her the intricate folk steps or careful prancing of her neighbors. She gave herself completely to the music and the moment. He envied her passion. It was something alien to him for far too many years. I wonder…does she do that with everything? Does she do the same when joined with a lover? What would it be like to take her in the soft grass, under the moon and stars?
“She is enchanting, isn’t she?” The king stood at his shoulder.
“Yes, she is,” he replied absently, before realizing who it was.
“As my poet used to say before he was waylaid. ‘Such sweet tempting mischiefs women are.’” There seemed an air of regret in his voice.
Robert sighed, his eyes stil on her. “Yes…I know. She’s very beautiful.”
“Wil you have her?”
“Yes.” What other answer was there?
“Excel ent! I am wel pleased. It wil be the finest entertainment of the evening.”
Robert did look at him now, his eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You wil , Lord Newport. I promise you’l know when the time comes. Just play your part and you’l see soon enough.” A gilded carriage had pul ed up at the edge of the clearing and His Majesty hurried away to greet it before Robert could respond. Ah, wel . What matter how the thing was done? The marriage was pure farce. Why shouldn’t it be a part of the evening’s entertainment? Resigned, he put it from his mind and lifted a glass of Rhenish from the tray of a passing jack-in-the-green roving the woods.
He wandered closer to the maypole and leaned against a tree, his arms folded, curious but not inclined to join the dance. Several ladies were on the edges of the clearing, rustling in the brushes on hands and knees and crawling in the grass. He cocked his head and watched with bemusement.
“They are col ecting the dew,” de Veres said from beside him. “Surely you’ve heard the nursery rhyme….
“‘The fair maid who, the first of May
Goes to the fields at break of day
And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree Wil ever after handsome be.’
“’Tis also said it wil help her capture the heart of the man of her choosing. Are you annoyed with Lizzy? She seems to think so.”
Robert took his eyes off his fiancée regretful y and glanced cool y at de Veres. “I’ve yet to decide. When I know I’l be sure to inform you. I take it she’s curious as to what comes from her meddling. You can tel her she’l see for herself soon enough.”
He returned his attention to the dancers in the glade, stiffening when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Robert didn’t look back when he spoke. “For reasons I can’t fathom she seems fond of you. But if you don’t remove your hand…” Wil iam opened his hand and lifted it, then straightened the back of Robert’s coat. He spoke close to his ear, his voice a combination of amusement and warning. “Anything that concerns Lizzy is my affair, Captain. A thing you’d be wise to remember.”
Robert shrugged and a moment later the poet was gone.
He smiled to himself. Good for Elizabeth. It seemed her courtier poet was more of a man than he’d thought.
A SOUNDI
NG OF HORNS and the ringing of bel s marked the arrival of a tal man wearing a sun mask of beaten gold.
His left hand held a gilded staff wrapped with flowers and ivy. He bent his knee and held his right hand out to Hope.
She took it with a jubilant smile. He rose and turned to face the crowd and led her out, presenting her. “Lords and ladies, fel ow revelers…
“‘Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire!
Woods and groves are of thy dressing;
Hil and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.’
“I present to you our lovely May Queen!”
“Oh, Charles! What a wonderful surprise!” Hope almost had to shout for him to hear above the cheering, so she threw her arms round his neck. “It’s a night I wil always remember. Thank you!” It was a great honor to be chosen Queen of the May. In vil ages and towns and cities across Britain al the unmarried women vied for that prize. Yet Charles had chosen her over a bevy of noble beauties.
Her eyes were shining as bright as any star as Charles gently extricated himself from her embrace and placed the leafy staff in her hands. “Your scepter, my lady. And now…” Charles slowly circled the glade, his finger dipping and rising as if he were counting each man that he passed.
“The May Queen—” there was a hush of anticipation “—
must have…a May King!” His finger tapped Robert’s shoulder.
“Why not me?” the Duke of Buckingham shouted to roars of laughter.
Ignoring him, Charles drew Hope and Robert to stand in front of the Maypole. “It is my decree that Miss Mathews be the Queen of May, and Lord Newport, Baron Nichols, be her consort.” The announcement generated excited whispers as wel as applause. “I cal now for a priest of the wood to step forward, to bestow a blessing on the joining of the Lord and Lady of May.”
Hope was a little surprised at this turn of events, but she grinned and tried to straighten the flower wreath that was sliding over her brow, then gave up and turned to give her towering consort a winsome smile. Buckingham would have been a more comfortable choice, but the captain made her heart beat faster, and she supposed it might be fun continuing the game she’d started earlier, trying to make him smile.
