Margaret Moore (18 page)

It occurred to Vivienne that if Philip and her uncle thought the king Philip’s rival, that would spare Lord Cheddersby from both Philip’s wrath and her uncle’s machinations.

She sank down onto the edge of the chair and gave Philip a seriously questioning look. “Do you know, Sir Philip, if what I have heard about the queen’s illness is true? Was she really so delirious she thought she had borne him a son and asked his forgiveness that the child was so ugly?”

Philip’s eyes narrowed. “So they say.”

“Is it also true that Charles wept and, fearing that she was dying, said that if his son be like her, he would be a fine child?”

“I have heard that, yes. I trust you have also heard that he still spent much of his time with other women while the queen was on her sickbed?” Philip added, obviously annoyed.

Uncle Elias rose and strode to the door before Vivienne could respond. “Where the devil is the coach?” he demanded as he went out into the corridor. “We don’t want to be late to Lord Cheddersby’s.”

“No, we don’t,” Philip murmured as he offered Vivienne his hand to help her rise. “I am very much looking forward to making an entrance with you.”

His expression was so proprietary, she wanted to slap him. Instead, she said, “Perhaps because it may be the last time you do so.”

His smug smile made a shiver of fear run down her back, and his grip on her hand tightened. “Oh, I don’t think so, my dear. You and your uncle are playing a very risky game, but it is one I intend to win.”

She didn’t know what he was implying, but she knew it meant danger. “I thought you must be the one playing games,” she replied warily. “Or should I say, that you had given up the chase.”

Despite the unfavorable opinion she had always had of Philip, she was not prepared for the gleam of both hunger and hatred that suddenly flared in his eyes as he raked her body with his gaze. Or his fierce strength as he tugged her closer. “Do you think you and that fat uncle of yours can make sport of me, Vivienne?” he growled. “Do you think to play me for a fool, with either that dolt Cheddersby or our lascivious sovereign? If I haven’t been to see you, it’s because there was no need.”

“Philip, let go. You’re hurting me,” she said firmly, willing herself not to be afraid of him. “And don’t think you can threaten me, or my uncle.”

“Oh, I won’t—as long as you understand that I will not be dismissed like an unwanted servant. There are things I can do, steps I can take, to ensure that we are married. And I will, my fair, stubborn bride, never doubt but that I will.”

“The coach is ready at last,” Uncle Elias declared from somewhere in the corridor. “Come along, you two.”

Tearing her hand from Philip’s, Vivienne marched from the room, all her pleasure at the thought of seeing Rob again thoroughly doused, replaced by the sudden terrible dread that she had underestimated Sir Philip Martlebury and the extent of his rancor.

U
ncle Elias was so preoccupied by the possibility of seeing the king, he didn’t notice that neither Vivienne nor Philip said a word the whole way to Lord Cheddersby’s enormous house.

Vivienne sat opposite her male companions and stared out the window as the coach rattled over the cobblestone streets toward the west end of London, out of the city into what was nearly the countryside. She wouldn’t look at Philip, didn’t want to meet his gaze or see him regard her as if she were a toothsome morsel to sate his appetite.

Why was he so secure in his determination that they could not refuse him? He couldn’t know about her feelings for Rob or, she didn’t doubt, he would have said so, at least to her. He had had time enough for that—yet he had given no specific reason for his self-assurance.

If her uncle withdrew his support from her marriage to Philip, what could Philip do? What steps could he take to make her marry him?

Perhaps, she mused as they passed out of the city, this was merely a ruse, with nothing substantial to back it up. Maybe this was nothing but an idle threat, the same way he had threatened Lord Cheddersby at the theater, only to back down when the nobleman drew his sword.

She glanced at Philip, silent and scowling, his gaze on the passing buildings.

Yes, she thought, her happiness reasserting itself. He was the kind to make threats, but if it came to a confrontation with her uncle, and her uncle was determined she would not marry him, she was certain Uncle Elias would triumph.

By the time their coach rolled into the courtyard of Lord Cheddersby’s magnificent house, as large as any estate in the country, Vivienne was more excited by the possibility of seeing Rob than she was afraid of Philip.

Her uncle disembarked, followed by Philip. Confident in her assessment of the situation, she allowed Philip to help her out of the coach and escort her into the house after her uncle.

Once inside the magnificent double doors, she gasped. The building was astonishing, from the entrance hall with its floor and walls of marble, to the grand staircase leading upward to the principal rooms, presided over by a ceiling painted with a host of allegorical figures. Vivienne had never been to Whitehall or Hampton Court, but she doubted even those royal homes could be so luxurious and fine.

Her uncle stared as if he found himself in far-off Cathay, while Philip seemed momentarily stunned by the obvious wealth of their host.

A footman took their cloaks, and they went up the wide staircase, arriving in a long room which was already filled with a crowd of people, the air heavy with the scents of perfumes and powders.

She couldn’t see Rob among the throng.

Or Lord Cheddersby, or the king, for that matter. And she was acutely aware that Philip was standing too close beside her. On the other hand, he was close enough that she could give him a hard nudge with her elbow—

“Oh, my dear, here you are!” Lettice Jerningham screeched from somewhere close by.

Vivienne momentarily forgot about Philip as she saw Lettice, wearing a sumptuous gown of violet satin and velvet, bearing down on her.

And then, behind the approaching Lettice, Vivienne spotted Rob. He stood near the wall all by himself, beneath a portrait of what must have been one of Lord Cheddersby’s Elizabethan ancestors.

If she felt out of place in the grand house among the mob of courtiers and wealthy people, Rob looked it, with his simple black woolen clothing and stern demeanor. Indeed, he looked like an angry schoolmaster with a class full of mischief-makers.

Her uncle, meanwhile, seemed to be as happy as she had ever seen him. No doubt he was mentally calculating how many bolts of fabric it would take to clothe everybody here, and the profit he would have if they would only see the wisdom of buying their silks from him. In another moment, though, he looked like a hound on the scent as he moved toward the distant sound of music. Apparently he had forgotten Vivienne or Sir Philip existed.

“My dear, how delightful!” Lettice said as she finally reached Vivienne. “What a wonderful gown! Sir Philip, I am charmed to see you again. I will not gamble with you again, though, you naughty boy,” she said with a coy simper. “You took my last guinea the last time we did.”

Philip inclined his head, making a very minimal bow. “Your servant, madam.”

“Oh, and there is Mr. Burroughs over there. I see he has discovered that the king and Lady Castlemaine are with Lord Cheddersby in the adjoining room dancing. Sir Philip, I am going to insist that you dance, for I know you are quite excellent at it,” Lettice said, practically dragging Philip away. “Come along, now, Vivienne. He may dance with you next.”

Vivienne could hardly believe her luck. Her uncle had gone off, no doubt in search of Lady Castlemaine, and Lettice had taken Philip away through the crowd, all of whom, having glanced at Vivienne once, now paid her no heed whatsoever.

She might as well be invisible.

Hoping she could stay virtually invisible, she sidled backward, glancing over her shoulder. Rob was standing just where he had been before.

Nearly imperceptibly, he shook his head and frowned. Then he glanced pointedly at the doorway on his left.

He was right to be so cautious. So far, nobody was paying any attention, but that could change.

Determined to be gone before anybody noticed her or her uncle returned, she darted quickly through the door.

Now where?

She went through the rooms that led into one another, each one luxuriously appointed, scarcely noticing exactly how they were decorated. She was more intent on finding somewhere relatively private.

Finally, near the end, there was a room of a type she had heard of. It must be a state bedroom, intended for the lord of the house. It was a large room with an open area for His Lordship to entertain his friends and associates. The huge curtained bed was in an alcove, set apart from the rest of the room by a balustrade. Only the lord’s closest friends would get behind the balustrade, and only his best friends would be allowed into the small room, called a closet, which was beyond that.

It all seemed very grand and formal for Lord Cheddersby.

Someone standing not five feet behind her cleared his throat, making her start and quickly turn.

It was Rob.

She ran into his arms. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she murmured, her cheek against the rough fabric of his jacket.

“And I, you,” he replied, holding her just as close for a moment before drawing back and glancing around. “Unfortunately, I fear that while we are alone for the time being, this is even less private than that alley. I was hoping to have a chance to speak with you alone.”

Vivienne looked around. Since all the rooms led into one another, anybody could wander through, just she had.

She took Rob’s hand. “I think there is a place we can be more private,” she said, leading him to the balustrade, then around it.

“I feel like I’m housebreaking again,” Rob confessed warily. “Where are you taking me?”

“This door should lead to—ah, I’m right!” Vivienne cried in a whisper as she opened the ornate door that led into a small room illuminated by the moonlight and the torches standing in the courtyard to light the drive. Unlike the formal room outside, this was quite charming, with lovely, simple furnishings, including a cupboard bed. There was a door leading out of it on the opposite wall, and Vivienne guessed it was the back stairs. Even Lord Cheddersby might wish a clandestine meeting now and then.

“I suspect this is where Lord Cheddersby actually sleeps,” she said. She gave Rob a rueful glance. “I feel like a housebreaker, too.”

He let go of her hand. “Then perhaps we shouldn’t stay.”

“No,” she protested with a wry smile. “Who can say when I may have another chance to be with you? It was too long from the last time until this, so I will happily risk being caught here.”

“With me?” he whispered as he pulled her close.

“Yes,” she said with a sigh as she reached up to kiss him.

He tilted his head away from her, and although she was disappointed not to kiss him, she was delighted by the merriment in his dark eyes. “I thought you wanted to talk to me.”

“So I do, but you should recall that I am something of a wanton. Did I not kiss you when our acquaintance was but an hour old?”

“You certainly did—most thoroughly, as I recall—and I enjoyed it very much.”

“Then why should I not kiss you again?”

“Because, my lady love, as I have said, I fear once we start, I will not want to stop, and until I can claim that right legally, I do not think it wise to tempt myself.”

“So,” she observed, her sense of delight and excitement growing, “you would claim me legally?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I would ask you to be my wife.”

“Wife?” Her heart thundered in her chest as she repeated that word.

“Wife,” he confirmed. “If you could ever consider me worthy enough for a husband.”

She frowned darkly, lowering her brows in her most fierce expression. “Robert Harding, are you
never
going to believe that I think you the most worthy of men? What more can I say or do to convince you?”

“You make me feel more important and respectable than anyone in my life, and I do believe that I am somewhat better than a dog,” he said wryly, “but I was years a pauper and thief, Vivienne. It may take years to convince me I am not still destined to end my days in a noose. In fact,” he mused with a hint of a smile, “it may take daily reminders.”

Vivienne sat on a low sofa near the back-stairs door. “Oh, and you think that your wife will have nothing else to do, perhaps?”

He sat beside her and took her hand in his, once again grave. “Vivienne, any wife of mine will have a great deal to do, because I will not be able to afford servants. One maidservant, perhaps, but not much more.”

“I am not afraid of work, Rob, any more than you are. My mother only ever had a maidservant, plus me to help her as best I could.”

“I daresay you were a delightful helper.”

Vivienne shook her head. “I was more hindrance than help. I would forget what I was doing and fall to daydreaming. Or I would get distracted by something outside. I would wander off in the marketplace, especially if there were jugglers or tumblers performing. She would get quite angry with me.”

“And then forgive you when you cried.”

Vivienne’s eyes widened. “How do you know?”

He caressed her hand. “Because I love you, too, and that is what I would do.”

She raised his fingers to her lips and gently kissed them. “You should not have said that, Rob, for you may regret telling me how to get my own way with you.”

His eyes darkened in the moonlight. “Do you think to have your way with me, Vivienne?”

Her blood fired at the look of desire on his face. “If I can, as often as I can,” she whispered.

Passion flared, and like two shivering travelers finding a fire in the wilderness, they were helpless to ignore it when Rob pulled her into his strong embrace.

In his arms, she felt light and strong and free, as liberated as a bird on the wing. No more fears or dread, no more worry. No more loneliness.

She loved him, and he loved her. They would be together. She would be his wife. She knew it as well as she knew her name.