Intrigued

by Bertrice Small

  “Sir Simon Bates’s reputation was horrific,” Charlie said. “It is said he slaughtered the family of a Sir Gerald Crofts in Oxford.”

  “There was no Sir Gerald Crofts, and Simon Bates’s reputation was manufactured by Cromwell’s people to instill fear into the hearts of any who heard he was coming their way,” Gabriel Bainbridge explained. “They did that with a dozen or so more of us. That way when the people in the district where we were sent to make a reconnaissance heard we were coming, they were more than likely to cooperate with us. I will admit it was a clever tactic.”

  “Aye,” Charlie agreed quietly.

  “Your wife shouldn’t have died, nor your servant, my lord. If that young girl had not killed the trooper who shot them herself, I surely would have. Jesu, she was brave!”

  “My sister, Autumn,” Charlie said.

  “Yes! Yes! That was her name, Lady Autumn Leslie,” the Duke of Garwood anwswered. Then his excitement faded and he grew serious once again. “My lord, I beg you to forgive me,” he said. “I know my sorrow and guilt cannot bring back your duchess, but if I could go back and give my life in place of hers, I would! It should not have happened!” And his eyes were filled with tears that began to flow down his handsome face. He knelt suddenly before Charlie, his head bowed.

  The Duke of Lundy thought he had put the sorrow of his wife’s violent death behind him. He found now, faced with the man who was in part responsible for Bess’s demise, he wasn’t certain. He looked down at Gabriel Bainbridge and sighed. Damn Cromwell and his pocky Roundheads, his little sister’s favorite curse in those days came to his mind almost immediately. He sighed again. Bess was gone, and nothing was going to bring her back. This man kneeling before him wasn’t responsible for Oliver Cromwell and his ilk. He wasn’t responsible for the two civil wars or the years of the Protectorate. He wasn’t responsible for King Charles I’s murder. He had helped the Stuarts in his own way, risking his life in a dangerous game. Had he been caught, he would have been hanged or beheaded. But he hadn’t been caught, and he had exposed those who would have kept Charles II from returning and reclaiming his rightful place on England’s throne. He knew what Bess would have said and done in this instance. She had been a sensible, loving woman with a kind heart.

  “I forgive you, Gabriel Bainbridge,” Charlie Stuart said quietly, and he raised the man to his feet again. “Now, sir, shake my hand.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” his companion said, taking the outstretched hand in a firm grip. Their eyes met, and the Duke of Garwood saw the genuine pardon in the Duke of Lundy’s eyes. “Thank you,” he repeated.

  “When you met Autumn,” Charlie said, “did you look like you do now, Gabriel Bainbridge?”

  “Nay. My hair was cropped in Roundhead fashion, and my garments plain. I looked quite severe, I have been told.”

  “Then let us not mention your deception to my sister,” Charlie said quietly. “Autumn will be quite aggravated to meet the man who now possesses Greenwood, but if she learns that you were Sir Simon Bates, there will be no living with her, I fear. I shall speak to my cousin the king about this as well. Come now, and let us reassure him that there is no bad blood between us. I know it was difficult for those of you in England these past years, but I can assure you that the king suffered far worse than any of us. I would not distress him.”

  “Agreed,” the Duke of Garwood said, “and I also agree to your suggestion regarding your sister. She was hot-tempered then. I don’t expect she has changed, has she?”

  Charles Frederick Stuart laughed aloud as they crossed the room back to the king. “Autumn is no less hot-tempered today than she was when you met her. Best you begin any acquaintance with her anew. It is unlikely she will ever have to know of your past.”

  “It is settled, then?” the king said as they approached him.

  “It is settled,” Charlie reassured him.

  “Excellent! Now, cousin, bring your sister to court tomorrow so we may personally welcome her home to England,” the king said, and there was a definite gleam of interest in his amber eyes.

  God’s blood, Charlie thought to himself. What mischief have I done in bringing Autumn to court? But then he remembered that his sister was about to celebrate her twenty-ninth birthday. She was an experienced woman who had had a husband, and a royal lover. Autumn could certainly take care of herself. And she would have to.

  Chapter 17

  Whitehall was the king’s favorite palace. It had begun its existence as the inn of the Archbishop of York, an unimpressive and rather dreary two-story building of no particular distinction located in the district of Westminster. Then Henry VIII’s Archbishop of York, Thomas Wolsey, renovated his London residence into a magnificent palace, enlarging it, decorating, and adorning it until it was the envy of even the king. Wolsey, created a cardinal, then failed his king in the matter of Henry’s divorce from his first queen, Catherine of Aragon. The king’s own London house, Westminster Palace, had burned to the ground several years earlier. Wolsey, in a desperate effort to save himself and his career, offered the king York Palace, which was promptly rechristened Whitehall.

  Wolsey’s original palace was situated between the river Thames and the street that ran to Charing Cross, and thence to Westminster itself. Henry VIII wanted a larger palace, which required more land, but even he couldn’t close off a public thoroughfare. Nonetheless he purchased twenty-four acres across the road from the original palace, demolished the structures standing on his new land, and began to build. The palace ended up being a hodgepodge of connecting galleries, halls, and courts that, while an architectural nightmare on the exterior, was quite beautiful inside. Whitehall also rambled and straggled through a maze of inner courts and hidden recesses that were never seen by the court, for this was where the legion of servants necessary to make court life tolerable lived and worked.

  Because the street divided the palace there was no unity to it at all. Still Whitehall had all the amenities a king could want. It had gardens, a tiltyard, tennis courts, a cockpit, a ballhouse, where feather-ball was played, and an area set aside for playing bowls. The palace had three gateways. On the riverside of the road the turretted Palace, or Whitehall Gate, kept the public from straying into the Great Court. The King Street Gate and the Holbein Gate were constructed astride the street, in order to give the court access to the parkside of Whitehall, which was referred to as the “cockpit.” The King Street Gate stood at the southwestern end of the palace and opened into King Street. The Holbein Gate was opposite the king’s Banqueting House.

  Before he had been murdered, Charles I had commissioned John Webb, the son-in-law of Indigo Jones, to draw up plans for the rebuilding of Whitehall. It was a project never realized by the unfortunate king, and his son had not the funds for it, although he lavished borrowed moneys upon his ill-built home. Still, the beauty of its interior more than made up for the ugliness of the exterior, with carved stonework, lavish gilt moldings, painted ceilings, great works of art, magnificent tapestries, and beautiful furniture.

  Autumn’s coach was admitted to the Great Court. She descended from it in the company of her brother. She shook her skirts out nervously, and as her hood fell back she patted her hair. “How do I look?” she demanded of Charlie.

  “Even more beautiful than when we left the house,” he told her with a grin. “For God’s sake, Autumn, he’s only a man.”

  “Kings are not mere men,” she advised him sagely. “Kings have unlimited power. It is that power that makes them different from people like you and me, Charlie.”

  “I keep thinking of you as my baby sister,” he said slowly, shaking his auburn head, “but you are very clever, Autumn, and mayhap too wise.”

  “I have known one king, brother,” she reminded him.

  “And now you are to know another. Be warned, however, that this king likes beautiful women and thinks nothing of compromising them to his own advantage. Do not be swayed by his charm, which is great.”

  “His c
ousin, Louis, likes beautiful women too, and has charm,” Autumn replied. “I’m not the innocent I was when Louis first bedded me.”

  “Surely you aren’t expecting to . . .” Charlie began, not certain he wasn’t just a little shocked, not ready to believe she would dare . . .

  “The king has a mistress who is very much in his favor, and he likes it that way, I am told,” Autumn replied with a small smile.

  “What mischief are you planning?” he demanded of her.

  Autumn laughed. “If a small flirtation can regain Greenwood for us, where is the harm, Charlie?”

  “Don’t even consider it!” he almost shouted at her. “I am taking you back to Lynmouth House right now, Autumn! No woman as beautiful as you are can expect to have a small flirtation with King Charles and gain by it. My cousin is one of the most carnal men I have ever known. Engage his interest and you will have a tiger by the tail!”

  Autumn’s gem-colored eyes twinkled at him. “What fun,” she teased him wickedly. “I am in the mood for some sport, big brother.”

  Charles Frederick Stuart, Duke of Lundy, grew red in the face, at a complete loss for words. He wasn’t certain if she was jesting with him or not, and that frightened him. It suddenly dawned on him that while he might have known Autumn, the girl, he really didn’t know the woman she had become.

  Seeing his distress, Autumn stopped in her passage and took her brother’s hands in hers. “Oh, Charlie, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  His voice returned. “We’ll go to my apartments so you may remove your cloak and see to your hair,” he said, suddenly calm. His little sister was a grown woman, and very unlike his other two sisters. He couldn’t control her even if he tried. He led her down several corridors until finally he stopped before a door and, opening it, ushered her inside.

  Immediately his valet came forward to take Autumn’s enveloping cape and gloves from her. Then he led her to a basin of scented water. Autumn washed her hands and face quickly, pinching her cheeks to bring more color into them. She did not paint her face with white lead, flour, or rice, as some women did. Her hair lay smooth, her chignon neat, several fetching curls on either side of her head.

  “I’m ready,” she said at last.

  “And you will behave yourself?” he queried her.

  Autumn laughed. “I’ll not disgrace you,” she said to his relief, until he realized that she had not answerd his question at all.

  With a deep sigh Charlie gave his sister his arm and escorted her back through the winding corridors to the king’s audience chamber, where he was receiving at that particular hour. His heart sank when he saw Charles Stuart’s immediate interest as they entered the room. Leading his sister up to the throne, the Duke of Lundy bowed to his cousin, the king. “Your majesty, I have the honor to present to you my youngest sister, Autumn, Madame la Marquise d’Auriville.” Then he steadied her as she swept the king an elegant curtsey.

  The king’s eyes dipped swiftly to the deep cleavage between Autumn’s small but perfect breasts. He smiled toothily and, rising, took Autumn’s hand from Charlie. “Madame,” he said, “I am delighted to meet you at long last. I regret there has been no court for you to attend until now.” His dark brown eyes looked deeply into hers.

  Autumn felt a distinct tingle of excitement. “Your majesty’s warm welcome makes up for my years of waiting,” she said almost breathlessly. The king was a very attractive man. He was not handsome in a classical sense, but he was certainly comely in a magnetic way. He didn’t look like a Stuart, but rather like his French mother, with his dark eyes and curls. His face was saturnine, with a slight hook to his nose. He had a very well-turned leg, and he reminded her of King Louis. She told him so, and he smiled again.

  “You know my cousin Louis?” he said. “I had heard, madame la marquise, that you were a simple country matron. How do you compare my court with my cousin’s?”

  “I have never been to the French court, your majesty,” Autumn answered him honestly. “King Louis has the habit of coming each October to Chambord to hunt. My mother and I have joined his party for several years now. Chambord is a bit overwhelming for a hunting lodge, however.”

  “How long did you know Louis?” the king asked her, suddenly intrigued. He had not been aware that women joined the king’s yearly sojourn to the chateau of Chambord.

  “I met your cousin when he was thirteen, your majesty, just before my marriage to Sebastian d’Oleron. He was a bold boy, and I found it necessary to put him in his place, I fear. He never forgot me for it,” she explained, and then she smiled mischievously.

  King Charles laughed, genuinely amused. “Nay, madame, I don’t imagine he could forget you. When were you first invited to Chambord?”

  “The year after my husband died,” Autumn said quietly.

  “Ah,” the king said, beginning to think he understood.

  A servant came to their side, offering wine. The king took a goblet and handed it to Autumn. Then he took one for himself.

  “Charlie tells me you have a daughter. Let’s us walk the room, madame. There are too many ears that listen when one remains still. How old is your little girl?”

  “I have two daughters, your majesty,” Autumn said. “Mademoiselle Madeline d’Oleron, the heiress to Chermont, my husband’s estate, has just turned seven. My younger daughter, Mademoiselle Marguerite Louise de la Bois, is now two, your majesty.”

  “Ah,” the king responded. He did understand! “Your younger daughter is my cousin’s child?”

  “Yes, your majesty. King Louis promptly acknowledged her and gave her an income of her own. He says he will choose a husband for her one day, when she is old enough, but I think Margot will choose her own husband, like her female antecedents before her.”

  “Your brother did not mention Mademoiselle de la Bois,” the king said softly. “Why is that, I wonder?”

  “I think Charlie seeks to protect my reputation. He and Mama say I must marry again, although I cannot see a need for it,” Autumn replied to the king. “I also think my brother believes you mean to seduce me, your majesty.”

  Charles Stuart laughed heartily, and then he looked directly at Autumn. “My cousin, the not-so-royal Stuart, knows me well, madame la marquise. I most certainly mean to seduce you. You are far too delicious for me to resist.”

  “But I understand your majesty has a mistress of whom he is deeply fond,” Autumn boldly responded. “I yielded to King Louis because I had no other choice, and I had my child to protect. Surely your majesty would not coerce me in a similar manner. I don’t even know you. I am no whore to be casually tumbled and then as casually deserted.”

  “Barbara is with child and has withdrawn from the court, madame. She is unlikely to return for some months. Would you allow your king to languish alone? I cannot believe you that cruel.”

  “And I cannot believe you are as bold as King Louis,” Autumn told him audaciously, her heart hammering. She had not expected the king to be quite so brazen in his approach to her, although she had certainly considered a flirtation with him. She had told Charlie as much. He would surely blame her for this.

  They had stopped walking at the far end of the audience chamber, and the king gently pushed Autumn into an alcove, pressing himself against her as he backed her into the wall. “I like your gown,” he said. “Garnet becomes you with your mahogany curls.” Then the king gently fingered one, bringing it to his lips to kiss. “Your rubies are quite magnificent,” he said, touching them. His fingers brushed across the swell of her bosom. “And your skin is wonderfully soft, madame.”

  Autumn was having difficulty drawing a breath, but she finally managed to do so. “Your majesty, you must not hurry me into a decision,” she pleaded prettily. “I must speak with my brother first.”

  “The decision is not yours to make, madame, but mine, and I have made it. You really are a dreadful little fraud, Autumn. I love you already for it. Charlie will certainly assure you that you must obey your king, my beauty. You know
it to be so.”

  “He will also rail at me, and insist I have seduced you instead of the other way around,” Autumn replied, a piqued tone to her voice.

  The king chuckled. “I will assure him the seduction is all mine, madame la marquise.” He caught her chin between a thumb and a forefinger. “We are about to begin a delicious idyll, m’dear.”

  Now Autumn laughed. “That is what Louis called our relationship. He always said I was his sweet idyll, his jewel.”

  “And you shall be my Autumn idyll,” the king said, smiling at his own play on words. Then he quickly kissed her lips before they began their walk back down the long chamber to his throne, where he left her with Charlie. “We owe you a great debt, cousin,” he said, “for bringing your beautiful sister to court. She is going to stay for some time, and we shall enjoy her company.”

  “What have you done?” the Duke of Lundy hissed as they withdrew from the king’s immediate presence.

  “Why do you assume I have done anything?” Autumn demanded.

  “Because I know the king, and he has that look on his face,” Charlie said. “I didn’t bring you to court to play the whore!”

  “I should slap you for that remark were you not my own dear brother,” Autumn said angrily. “The king wishes to seduce me, and he will because he is the king. That much I learned with King Louis. Is it possible for a woman to refuse a king, Charlie? Have you ever heard of it being done? If, however, I am to be seduced by a royal lover again, at least I shall gain something for myself this time. It can hardly do my reputation any good to be publicly acknowledged as the king’s new friend, which means it is unlikely I shall be able to find myself a husband now. I am not so great a fool as to believe that Lady Castlemaine will not come back to court and to the king’s arms once her confinement is over and done with and she has regained her strength. Well, brother, I shall make good use of the time allotted me. When Barbara Palmer returns I shall have an English title and a house of my own, I promise you!”