Intrigued (44 page)
“I haven’t seen garments like these since I was a boy at court,” Henry Lindley said almost wistfully. “You are beautiful, Autumn.”
When they reached Whitehall Henry was amazed to see the number of people who approached his sister. She was charming, amusing, and kind to all. She greeted each by name. How did she remember them all? he wondered.
The Duke of Buckingham came up to be introduced. “I remember your father quite well,” Henry said. “He was a good friend to both my mother and my stepfather.”
“I am happy to hear it, given the manner in which he died,” George Villiers said.
“Horrible! Horrible!” Henry Lindley agreed, remembering the first duke’s assassination.
“Have you come to court to stay?” the Duke of Buckingham asked the Marquis of Westleigh.
“Nay, I am just up for the day to see Autumn,” Henry replied.
“Ah,” chuckled George Villiers knowingly, “some gossip reached you down in the country, did it?”
Henry nodded. “But now that I see how well Autumn is getting on, I can go home and not worry.”
“She’s hard as a fine diamond where the king is concerned,” the duke said. “She knows better than to fall in love.”
“I see that now,” Henry agreed. “I had to make certain. We don’t want Mama to know, of course, until it is over and done with.”
“Your mother loved Henry Stuart, didn’t she?” the duke said.
“Yes,” Henry answered without going into further detail.
The king entered the audience chamber, and there was much bowing and curtseying. Charles Stuart immediately raised Autumn up and kissed her hand, his dark eyes devouring her. “You have outdone yourself tonight, madame.” Then he lowered his voice. “What kind of stockings and garters do you wear?” he queried her lecherously.
“I fear your majesty shall have to wait to learn those small secets,” Autumn told him with a wicked grin, “but your majesty will be well pleased, I promise you. Or perhaps not. I dress to please myself alone, sire.” She smiled a brilliant smile at him.
“Where is Garwood?” the king asked of no one in particular.
“Probably sulking darkly in some remote corner,” Autumn replied quickly. “He does not, I fear, like me.”
“He likes you,” the king assured her with a twinkle. “I believe he would like to bed you, my dear, but that I outrank him and got to you first. Do you mind, Autumn?”
“You have more to offer me,” Autumn replied boldly, laughing up into the king’s saturnine face.
“I shall not pursue
that
further, darling,” Charles said chuckling. “Who is this new face who comes with you and Johnnie?”
that
further, darling,” Charles said chuckling. “Who is this new face who comes with you and Johnnie?”
“My eldest brother, Henry Lindley, Marquis of Westleigh, your majesty. He came up to London, having heard some rather wicked gossip, to ascertain if I was all right. ’Twas sweet of him, wasn’t it?”
“Aye, it was,” the king agreed. “I have a little sister in Paris of whom I am quite fond, my lord. For her sake I promise you I shall treat Lady Autumn with kindness.”
“She has already assured me of it, sire,” Henry replied quickly.
“Has she?” The king raised an eyebrow. “Are you softening toward me then, darling?” he teased Autumn.
“ ’Oddsfish, your majesty, no!” she cried, using his favorite oath. “I am far too wise to fall in love again.”
The king laughed. “Come and walk with me, madame,” he said, and they moved off arm in arm.
“He keeps his promises,” George Villiers said to Henry Lindley. “I know. We were raised together from infancy.”
Henry Lindley departed the following day for his seat at Cadby. When he arrived he was relieved to learn that his mother had not come to visit. He told his wife of his trip, of how he had found his sister, of meeting the king, and their brief conversation.
“How was the king dressed?” Rosamund asked him.
“There was a great deal of ribbon and lace, along with very rich fabrics. His shoes had red rosettes upon them, and he carried a silver staff with a great knob of ivory atop it. I was quite the country mouse, m’dear.”
“So Charlie is bringing his children home,” Rosamund said. “Autumn is clever to think of distracting your mama with three more grandchildren. They will need all her care, growing up as they have at Glenkirk. Especially Sabrina, poor girl. As soon as they come we must go over to Queen’s Malvern and welcome them home. Do you think they will remember us, Henry?”
“Brie and Freddie will, but I think wee Willy will not,” her husband replied, strangely relieved to be home and absolved of Autumn.
I don’t have to think about it again,
Henry decided.
My sister is all right, and Charlie will be back at court sooner than later. Besides, both the Duke of Buckingham and our cousin of Lynmouth assure me that no harm will be done to Autumn.
I don’t have to think about it again,
Henry decided.
My sister is all right, and Charlie will be back at court sooner than later. Besides, both the Duke of Buckingham and our cousin of Lynmouth assure me that no harm will be done to Autumn.
Charlie arrived from Scotland with his three children in tow the week before Christmas. Jasmine was thrilled. At nineteen, Lady Sabrina Stuart was a great beauty. Unfortunately she had absolutely no idea how to speak proper English anymore. Her Scots accent was thicker than any Jasmine could remember. Her temper was quick, and she could swear better than any man. Madeline and Margot were terrified of her and began to weep if she looked their way. Sabrina mocked them for crybabies. Her brothers were, to Jasmine’s surprise, a trifle more civilized and mannerly.
“ ’Tis a mighty task you’ve given me, Charlie,” his mother said. “Your sons I can manage, but your daughter . . .” Jasmine sighed.
“I have to go back to court,” Charlie said, almost apologetically.
“Of course,” she agreed. “While you have assured me that the young Earl of Lynmouth is watching over Autumn, I will be easier knowing you are with her. I hear from her but infrequently, and there is no mention of a possible new husband, although I will say she does seem over her doldrums.”
“I’ll remain with you for Christmas, but I must be back for Twelfth Night at Whitehall,” Charlie replied, avoiding the issue of his sister as best he could.
“I am sorry about Greenwood, though,” Jasmine said. “I would have preferred Autumn had her own house.”
“Nay, Mama, I think it better she resides with a male relation,” he quickly said, “and you will remember I have apartments at Whitehall.”
“Of course,” Jasmine agreed. “You are absolutely correct, Charlie. We have Autumn’s reputation to consider, don’t we?”
“Indeed,” the Duke of Lundy agreed. “Indeed, Mama.”
Charles Frederick Stuart arrived back at Whitehall on the fourth of January. He learned to his shock that the king had appointed Autumn as the Lord of Misrule for the holiday season. She had obviously been quite successful in her duties, as the court was rollicking and filled with laughing people. Her favorite target for jests seemed to be the Duke of Garwood. His apparent lack of a sense of humor made for great hilarity among the courtiers; especially the day she imposed a penalty upon him that required the proud gentleman to walk backwards all day, which meant each time he bowed, his shapely posterior was stuck into the face of whoever he must greet. It was cause for much laughter. Gabriel Bainbridge finally lost his temper and stormed from court for the next two days.
Autumn welcomed her brother gaily, hugging him and giving him a kiss upon the cheek. “You are back! How are the bairns, and how is Mama?”
“I may not have retrieved Sabrina in time,” he told her, “and Mama wonders why she hears so infrequently from you,” he answered.
“I am busy,” she told him airily.
“And the king is still pleased?”
Autumn smiled archly. “Of course,” she said.
“Has Lady Barbara had her child yet?”
“Not until February,” Autumn responded. “The coronation is scheduled for April twenty-third. I expect La Palmer will be back in time for that, even if it kills her, which, of course, means I must give over.”
“Have you asked him for your title?” Charlie wondered.
“Not yet. The proper time has not yet presented itself, but it will. It must be soon, or I am lost.” Autumn sounded worried for the first time since she had begun her deliberate campaign.
That night, however, she joined the king in his own bed, much to his pleasure. A young serving woman had helped her from her gown and undergarments and been dismissed. The king, in a dark-patterned chamber robe, watched as she paraded about in a pair of white silk stockings with green ivy climbing up them. Her garters were creamy white silk with large rosettes fastening them. In the center of each flower was a single small emerald. Her white silk shoes had large green enamel buckles upon them, and heels studded with emeralds and pearls.
“I never grow tired of seeing you thus,” the king said. “Come here to me now, my darling,” and when she complied with his request his hands fastened about her delightfully rounded buttocks to draw her near. He pushed his face into the tightly bunched dark curls covering her Venus mont. He inhaled her fragrance, breathing deeply. The innocence of woodbine and honeysuckle combined with her divine sensuality aroused him as no aphrodisiac ever had. His facile tongue wormed its way between her nether lips and he licked at her sweet flesh. “Delicious,” he said in muffled tones, his tongue finding the treasure it sought and moving rapidly now.
“Oh, yes, you devil!” Autumn encouraged him, her hands upon his silk-covered shoulders to steady herself. She squirmed in his grasp as he began to achieve the desired effect.
The king’s voice growled a command. “Open my robe, my adorable little bitch,” he said thickly.
Autumn hurried to do his bidding, moving carefully so as not to dislodge his wicked tongue. She felt his naked shoulders beneath her hands now and caressed them fervently. Then she looked down and saw his lance, engorged and ready. Without hesitation Autumn pulled away from her lover a brief moment and then, sitting upon his lap, encased him within her hot sheath. “There, darling,” she purred at him. “Isn’t that nice?” She moved subtly upon him while his hands fondled her buttocks. “Does his majesty want a little kiss?” she teased him, brushing her lips across his lightly.
In response the king arose from the chair where he had been seated. His manhood still firmly within her, he carried her across the room to his bed and lay her back upon its edge. Then he began to pump her hard, moving at first with slow and majestic strokes of his weapon until Autumn was whimpering, her eyes tightly shut, her beautiful face a mask of lustful pleasure. The king increased his strokes faster and faster until she was half-screaming with delight and, unable to help himself, he exploded within her, his juices so copious that she could not take them all.
Autumn sighed and kissed him deeply. “You are, Charles Stuart,” she told him, “a far better lover than your cousin Louis!” And she kissed him again.
They made love once more that night, and then Autumn arose and dressed, waiting for Mr. Chiffinch to come and lead her back through the maze of passages out through a secret entrance to the street, where her carriage was waiting.
As they waited the king said from his bed, “You must have a gift from me, Autumn, when our time together is done. What will you have of me, darling? You have been so kind, but in a few months’ time Barbara will want to come back, and I would have her.”
Autumn pretended to consider his request. Then she said softly, “I have wealth enough, Charles Stuart, and I have been loved by a wonderful man. I have two daughters, but there is one thing I do not have. I want to remain in England, but alas, I have no English title or a home of my own. Would you give me those two things in exchange for our time together? The title need not be great, nor the house large, but I would have something of my own, Charles Stuart. I am the daughter of a duke. I have two brothers who are dukes, one who is a marquis, and two who are barons, but nothing of my own. Give me that and I shall be forever grateful to you.”
“You will have both a title and a house when our time comes to an end, Autumn. It is a small thing you ask of me. I can certainly afford to be generous to a woman who has been more than generous with me,” the king told her, smiling. “Come and give me a kiss good night now, for I hear Chiffinch approaching.”
Autumn came to the bed and kissed him sweetly. “Thank you, Charles Stuart,” she said, and she meant it.
For the first time since he had known her the king believed he had been given a glimpse of the real Autumn. Not the beautiful courtesan who gave him such great pleasure, but the woman herself. The duke’s daughter. The widow of an honorable man. It almost made him uncomfortable to have been privy to the truth. He called to his dogs to come and join him in the bed and, comforted by their presence, he fell asleep.
Her heart soaring, Autumn followed Mr. Chiffinch through winding corridors and down a flight of narrow steps. At the bottom the king’s personal servant carefully unlocked the small door and, opening it, stepped out into the dark alleyway where Autumn’s coach was waiting for her. He helped her in, and as he closed the door, Chiffinch said, “Good night, my lady.” The carriage moved out of the street slowly, only picking up speed as it escaped the confines of the narrow way and entered the high road. She could hardly wait to tell Charlie, Autumn thought.
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