Robyn Carr Restoration Box Set

by Robyn Carr

  Her gown was close-fitting velvet, lavender and deep, rich purple, snug through the bodice and waist and flowing in graceful pleats to the floor. Her slim figure and long slender arms gave her the look of a dancer. Her wrists glittered with bracelets and her neck shone with precious stones. Over one arm, she carried a black fox fur that a servant quickly took from her. Her gown was cut in a deep V, and her breasts, round and plentiful, rose and fell gracefully with every breath.

  It was her face; that much he could recognize, though he feared he had gone partially mad. It was the difference of seeing her hair so perfectly coiffed, with small glittering stones tucked here and there among the curls. And her manner was so different in this setting. She stood taller, almost commandingly, her every movement poised and confident. As the king approached her, she gave him a quick and natural smile, her even white teeth gleaming and her eyes coming alive with a special excited light.

  Geoffrey felt an urge grow within him the moment he had taken in her entire appearance. She was more than lovely: she was magnificent. He tried to recall the tavern wench he’d met: a slender and unkempt brown-haired girl. He had thought her fair, but the potential had never occurred to him.

  But it was not the clothing alone, he assured himself. There was something in her demeanor that made her very different from the wench in the inn. He had seen her clamber into the coach with Rodney, and now he was seeing her glide across the room on the king’s arm, her smile soft and sweet as she acknowledged the sighs from the courtiers as she passed them, and seemed to take as much pleasure in the lack of comment from the ladies. Indeed, the only woman in the room to be the least bit appreciative was Barbara Palmer, and that was because of her contribution to this maid’s attractiveness.

  Charles stood before him, his ward on his arm. “From your expression, Seavers, I’d say you’re pleased.”

  Geoffrey shook himself and reached to take her hand, placing a courtly kiss on it. “Your servant, madam,” he cooed.

  “There are a great many eager for your acquaintance, lady,” Charles told her. “I think your escort can manage that, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “With pleasure, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice lilting.

  “I’ll be announcing the betrothal after dinner and I hope you’ll be telling me the wedding date before long.”

  “I’m certain we can settle on a date soon,” Seavers attempted.

  “I think it shan’t take long for me to get to know the groom, Your Majesty,” Alicia said.

  “Didn’t I promise you all the time you need?” Charles asked her. She nodded as though they had indeed had a long conversation on the matter.

  As Seavers attempted to hide his frown, Charles left them. Though they were hardly alone, they were isolated enough to exchange a few words, if quiet.

  “Quite an improvement, lady,” he whispered.

  “I might say the same, milord,” she returned.

  The shock nearly set him on his ear and he quickly tried to remember what he was garbed in when last they spoke together. He had not considered that his appearance was ever less than debonair.

  “We shouldn’t need to keep the king in suspense, should we, madam? I think the wedding can be soon.”

  “Let’s not worry with that tonight, milord, please. I’m interested only in getting to know you better.”

  “Madam,” he pressed, prepared to argue. But as he would have begun, he noticed that the gallants would not allow him privacy. And he understood their motivation, for he had to acknowledge he had indeed been lucky.

  He made several introductions and found himself pressed out of a tight circle as Alicia was put upon by every curious spectator within the room. Behind him he heard his friend’s familiar voice. “I should like to hear your miserable complaints now,” Preston whispered.

  Geoffrey was silent. He stared jealously at the backs of nobles and ladies that surrounded his betrothed.

  “Pity you’ve had to sacrifice so much. Poor wretch; only money and beauty and, from what I can see, a sweet disposition.”

  Geoffrey turned to glare at his friend.

  Alicia found no use for her rehearsed smile and nod of acquaintance at each introduction. She was carried away by the fuss and compliments, and her own natural happiness rose to the surface. Could she have seen the difference between the rehearsed acceptance she had practiced before her mirror and the beauty of her simple joy, she would not have recognized herself.

  It was not until a familiar voice touched her ears that her confidence was shaken. “Your beauty far surpasses any tales brought to court about you.”

  Her eyes grew wide and she fought to suppress a gasp of surprise as she recognized Perry’s voice and looked into his glittering blue eyes. The anger she saw there threatened to shatter her. She tried to smile. “Thank you, milord,” she murmured.

  His voice was low and menacing. “How you’ve managed this is a complete mystery.”

  Alicia cast a quick glance around her to see who might have overheard. There were several gallants and maids close at hand, but their laughing and tittering with one another had left Perry’s words unnoticed.

  “Beg pardon?” she breathed, panicked. The last thing she wanted was to hear him repeat himself, but she was at a complete loss. Her worst fear had been realized. She knew in her heart she would be exposed as the tavern wench Perry had lain with last summer—and here, before the king’s court.

  “If you have any wits, madam, flee quickly. Be in another county before a day passes.”

  Alicia was frozen to the ground. She could do nothing but stare at him in frightful wonder.

  “I know Charlotte Bellamy, madam. You are in dire straits. It is only a matter of time before Seavers finds out you have tricked him.”

  Alicia took a deep breath and looked past Perry to where Geoffrey stood with another man. She decided quickly: she would rather go out in a surge of flames than be inconspicuously drowned and unnoticed. “What do you mean?” she asked with as much courage as she could muster.

  Perry forced a smile for onlookers and took her hand in his as if to kiss the back of it in courtly grace. “Would that I knew who you are and how you’ve managed this—I would expose you tonight!” The low rumble of his laughter terrified her. “But, alas, I have no desire to help Seavers. Flee madam, before the added sin of marrying Lord Seavers belongs to your list of crimes.”

  Alicia heard herself laugh, the sound nothing more than a distant noise to her own ears. He did not remember her! He knew Charlotte Bellamy, though no one else did...but he did not remember a woman he’d seduced, lied to, and left.

  Geoffrey was suddenly at her side, a perturbed frown on his face. “You’ve met my betrothed, Lord Perry?”

  “At long last,” Perry simpered, his angry eyes turning to Seavers. “You’re very fortunate, she is beautiful,” he said, the displeasure obvious in the voices of both men.

  Alicia feared she would fall to the floor. The only thing that kept her on her feet was the protective arm about her waist. The tension was not hers alone. She could feel the tightness in Geoffrey’s arm and she could see the anger in Perry’s features. She felt, quite suddenly, that this entire situation had very little to do with her.

  “I agree, of course,” Geoffrey proclaimed.

  Alicia leaned against Geoffrey without realizing she was doing so. Perry nodded again, excused himself, and melted into the crowd beyond them.

  “Are you all right, madam?” Geoffrey asked. She looked up at him and saw that he looked not at her, but in the direction Perry had gone.

  “That man,” she began, her voice quavering. “He frightened me.”

  “Beware of Culver Perry, madam. He is a liar, and worse.”

  “Is there any possibility he knows?” she whispered.

  His eyes snapped to hers. “He knows about your fortune. He bid mightily for your hand.”

  She felt herself sway slightly.

  “Madam, have you need of a chair?” Geoffrey aske
d her.

  “Is he very important here?” she asked tremulously.

  “Perry? He has very little influence here. Fortunately, much less than I. If he’s made you any promises, be warned, he will not keep them.”

  “I know that,” she said, her voice sounding very far away. He did not remember her! He had lain with her, sworn his love, and quickly forgotten! Her fear nearly dissolved in the presence of her hatred of the man. She quickly decided she would see this through a bit farther. If not to help Lord Seavers, possibly to hurt Lord Perry.

  She looked up at Geoffrey. “I could tell instantly that he is a vulgar, hateful man,” she said.

  “You are very perceptive, Charlotte,” Geoffrey said. His eyes still held that suspicious and threatening gleam. Though Alicia did not know why, she knew Geoffrey hated Perry as much as she did. “Very perceptive indeed.”

  SIX

  As it came like a breath through the open window, the evening breeze billowed the shabby curtain. The light from a single candle fluttered slightly. A man’s low mumblings brought a rattle of giggling from a woman and then a gleeful laugh.

  “Lawd, gov’na, you do play a word with a maid,” a woman’s voice said as she flopped the heavy comforter about a bit.

  “God, I mean it all,” he argued.

  The slamming of a door below and heavy footfalls on the stairs caused them both to sit upright. Charlotte ran one hand through her tousled curls and clasped the cover to her breasts with the other.

  “Is that the man’s got you in keeping?” her panicked partner asked.

  “Gor, he said he’d be gone hours,” she breathed.

  “I’m hoping he rounds yer pretty arse and not mine,” the man said, easing quickly from the bed and searching for his pants.

  “ ‘At’s a love,” Charlotte seethed vindictively. “One moment, you’ll give me the world, and next, sell me for a beating.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed and reached for a simple dress that had been hastily thrown to the floor and lay amidst apple cores and orange peelings. She gave it a shake. “Jackanape,” she muttered. “I hope he breaks your head.”

  The door was thrown open with a bang and the intruder walked to the lone candle, using it to light another, brightening the room. He seemed not to notice the man struggling into his breeches or the toss-and-tumble bedding and naked woman until the room was more brightly lighted.

  “Been amusing yourself very well, I see,” Perry said, eyeing the disheveled lovers.

  “Don’t make no trouble, love,” Charlotte said easily, stepping into her dress. “He’s leaving.”

  As she straightened herself and looked at Culver Perry, she actually took a step back from the furious gleam in his eyes. His fists were clenched at his sides and his face was reddening. “I told you to have no one in here.”

  “He’s leaving, milord,” Charlotte said a bit tremulously. “I won’t do it again.”

  Perry’s stare was fixed on Charlotte, and the man took the opportunity to gather what was left of his clothing—shoes, shirt, stockings, and jacket—and start to ease himself cautiously toward the door.

  “Find a stallion in any gutter, eh, love?” Perry asked with a sinister sneer. He abruptly grabbed for the young man, catching him about the neck and hurling him out the open door. “Was it worth your time?” he asked the rattled fellow.

  “No, milord—I mean, I didn’t know...”

  “Don’t come here again, you hear? If I see you within a mile of her, I’ll kill you.”

  “Aye, milord,” he said, trembling.

  Perry gave him a shove and, with a firm kick in the pants, sent him rolling down the stairs, his clothing scattering along the way. Without looking to see if the man survived the fall, Perry came back into the room and slammed the door.

  “Didn’t think you’d get yourself in a snit about it, love,” Charlotte said cautiously.

  Perry walked briskly to the decanter of brandy he kept for himself and poured a stout portion into a dirty glass, downing the spirits more quickly than usual. He turned on Charlotte with a curse.

  “I don’t give a damn that you’re a whore, but I can’t have you spending time in the taverns and bringing strange men here with you. Does he know who you are?”

  “Of course not. I told him I was in keeping.” She laughed suddenly. “But then I’m keeping you, eh, love?”

  The glass came flying through the air like a shot, smashing on the wall behind her. Charlotte ducked the vessel and rose again with wide eyes.

  “You bloody whores are all alike,” he blustered. “You’d be naked walking the streets if I hadn’t dragged you from the worthless farm you were raised on, and brought you here.”

  “Wrong, gov’na,” she said angrily. “I’d have Lord Seavers.”

  “You’re wrong, bitch,” he shouted. “Seavers met his bride tonight at Whitehall. Lady Charlotte Bellamy. A beautiful and elegant woman, obviously Seavers’s own design. He’d not have spent a farthing to make you right for the title.”

  “What?” she asked, aghast.

  “There was a woman there tonight, the mysterious bride: Fergus Bellamy’s daughter.” He strode toward her, grabbed her by the upper arms, and stared into her eyes. “Tell me truthfully: was the knight your father or are you some farm wench who played a tale on me?”

  “I am Charlotte Bellamy,” she insisted. “You know that.”

  He released her abruptly. “Aye, you couldn’t have fooled me on that score. I was there to see where you lived and how you lived.” He walked away from her and spoke without looking in her direction. “Then it’s as I thought. Seavers couldn’t find his bride and so has an impostor playing the role.”

  “Damn me, he won’t for long,” she huffed behind him. “And whether it suits you or not, I’ll not let another wench claim my father’s money. I’ll tell the—”

  “You’ll tell no one!” he barked. He looked her over, from tousled head to filthy bare feet. “What d’ye think, darling? You’ll stroll into the king’s bedroom and tell him you’re the heiress—having come here with me to trick Seavers out of his fortune? Charles would have a good laugh on that, a filthy whore claiming the prize.” He picked up the decanter of brandy and took a long pull from it. “You don’t seem to understand, my dear. Lady Charlotte’s made a smash at Whitehall. She’s beautiful and appears to be gently bred.”

  “Gently bred, by God,” Charlotte laughed. “In that barn I was raised in?”

  “Fact is fact,” he said. “They’ve accepted her. And I can’t present you without giving myself a great deal of trouble from Charles.” He took a long breath, letting his anger and frustration cool. “We’ll have to find another way to get to Seavers. Perhaps a bit a planning can cause him to trip over his own lies.”

  Alicia sat before the dressing table in her bedroom. Behind her Margaret Stratton, the woman Rodney had hired to be Alicia’s personal maid, fluttered about the room putting everything in order, chattering all the while.

  Margaret, or Maggie, or Meg, whichever Alicia preferred at the moment, was a heavyset woman in her early forties. She had been widowed several years back and spoke frequently and with fondness of her late husband. She spoke also of the son who served in His Majesty’s Horse Guard.

  And there were countless sisters, brothers, cousins, and others that she chattered about endlessly.

  Alicia found her to be an absolute delight, a knowledgeable caretaker with an eye for fashion, though she wore nothing particularly fashionable herself. She showered Alicia with motherly concern that gave her a sense of being home that she had never before known. Alicia felt the woman’s immediate loyalty.

  But this morning she half heard all of Mrs. Margaret’s chatter, and quite often, when she realized she’d missed a direct question, she would turn with a rather preoccupied “Mmm?”

  “Not a thing, sweetheart,” Margaret would say. “You’re all caught up with that handsome lord you’re t’marry and can’t give me a spot of time. I know that. Ol
d women cluck like old hens. Never mind me.”

  “But you’re not old,” Alicia returned.

  “ ‘Tweren’t much more than your age when I married Mr. Stratton and had myself a baby, to boot. I remember, love. I remember clear as if it was yesterday.” She shrugged and fluffed the pillows. “Couldn’t give the time of day to those bantering old hens myself.” And she would laugh with genuine amusement.

  A knock at the door sent the woman rushing to answer for her lady and she accepted the quick message.

  “His lordship is here to see you, love,” she relayed.

  “Now?” Alicia asked in astonishment. “Oh, blast him, I’m not even dressed.”

  Margaret laughed. “Barely out of bed, at that. Well, then, let’s get you in something comfortable and comb your hair. See him in here, if you like.”

  Talking all the while, she picked through the wardrobe and finally pulled out a heavy scarlet dressing robe that was lined with white lace. “This will do nicely, eh?” And then, stooping, she retrieved a set of slippers from the floor of the wardrobe—a velvet pair that had tiny pearls sewn around the edges. “Aye,” her woman said. “This will warm his heart on a cold day.”

  Alicia eyed the garment and smiled devilishly. In helping to choose Alicia’s clothing, Lady Castlemaine had selected gowns of daring and sensual design.

  While Barbara was as friendly as any sister might be, and had been helpful during a confusing time, Alicia was wary and a little frightened of her. It was Margaret who explained the reason for Barbara’s almost dotish help. “Frances Stewart’s all but taken the king away from her. She’s been declared the most beautiful woman in England, you know. And if Castlemaine can pry his eyes away from Frances for even a minute, it’s worth her time. She’ll make you the competition. She’s not afraid to deal with you.”

  Alicia could see the probable truth in that at the dinner where she was formally introduced to Geoffrey. Lady Castlemaine remained the center of attention only as long as she was able to take credit for Alicia—Lady Bellamy—and Frances did suffer a lack of recognition that evening.