Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) (29 page)

“We also carried messages for tips between the gallants and the actresses backstage. I met many a grand lord and even some ladies that way. I watched how they dressed. I listened to their speech and I learned their accent. I discovered that but for their clothes, they were no better than I was and I teased and joked and sparred with them that way. It offended some of the ladies, hiding behind their masks, but it didn’t seem to bother the men. I enjoyed make-believe since I was a child and working the pit was an excellent apprenticeship for the stage.”

“It sounds as though you loved it there.”

“Oh, yes! I did. I’d never been anyplace so grand. It was richly appointed and brilliantly lit by chandeliers, yet very intimate and cozy. Have you been?”

“I have not.”

“The pit is taken up with leather benches, and three galleries rise to the rear. The lowest is for royalty and dignitaries and such, and Charles came their often. We would stand between the pit and the stage, with the orchestra behind us in the center of it all. It was magical, and of course, I saw all the plays. I imagined taking to the stage as a famous actress. Buying a fine home, traveling England. It was a wonderful dream.”

Robert combed his fingers through her hair as she talked. It surprised him how easily he slipped into a comfortable intimacy with this woman. She seemed to think he judged her, but that was only when he’d thought her a party to Charles’s scheme. The truth was that he envied her. She could honestly say she was not ashamed of who she was and he could not.

“And did your realize your dream? Did you make it to the stage?”

“I did. And the opportunity came sooner than I thought. One of the new actresses failed to appear. It seemed that she had caught a lover. And I took her part.”

“Did you?” He chuckled and gave her a slight squeeze. “I’m sure you were wonderful.”

“I thought so, too,” she said with a cocky grin. “Though I had no lines and all I did was hold a torch.”

“With great panache, no doubt.”

“Of course!” If possible, her grin had grown wider. “Enough to secure me another try at it, and then a speaking role. I played a maid who helped her mistress escape an unwanted marriage. We disguised ourselves as two young sparks and I had to wear a waistcoat and breeches. The king started coming more often after that. He’s very fond of women in breeches.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

She shifted position, getting more comfortable, and elbowed him again. “They say he is the first monarch to patronize a public theater. Whenever he came, you could hear the cheers in the streets as his coach rolled up to the door. Everyone in the theater would stand until he took his seat.”

“Doubtless he was smitten with your…ah…acting.”

“That’s kind of you to say but somehow I don’t think so. He always had Castlemaine sticking to him like a burr. I had an admirer in another Charles, though. Charles Hartley, Lord Malcolm.” And she had certainly not been prepared for his inflamed and passionate proposition after the curtain came down.

“Lord Malcolm?”

“Yes. He is a court wit and was very charming and—”

“There’s no need. I’ve met the man. He towers close to six feet in his five-inch red heels, writes obnoxious verse and moves from woman to woman like a bee moves from flower to flower. I generally credit women with as much intelligence as a man, except when it comes to self-important fops with pretty faces and delusions of talent. I swear he’s never even learned to use his sword. Please don’t tell me you decided to forgo your dream for him.”

For several moments, the only sound was Daisy’s steady purr.

“Hope, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did, and no... I didn’t. I gave up my dream because it soon became apparent that I was not well-suited for dramatic roles. There was an overabundance of comedic actresses, all of them senior to me. It was
then
I decided to take Malcolm’s offer. You are right about his character, though. The whole thing lasted less than two months. He did teach me a little about handling my accounts. He found it amusing I had an interest in my own affairs.”

“So you picked what little he had of a brain in less than two months, and then bored with him, you took your leave.”

“No!” She laughed in protest. “I went to spend the summer in Epsom with him. He was nice enough, quite charming at first, but though he imagined himself a rake he tried to rule me as a husband, telling me where I might and might not go and what I could and could not do. It led to many arguments and was beginning to wear on my nerves. When he brought home two of his drunken friends and made it clear what they all expected I packed my bags and left on the morning stage.”

“I shall make note not to ‘rule you as a husband’ and try and ration my store of interesting things for you to learn. Swordplay can take years. Then there is unarmed combat and battle tactics. I know a bit about road building and crop rotation you might find titillating, and can tantalize you for at least a six month with more stories about Sherwood Forest and that foul villain Robin Hood. Once that is exhausted I can teach you to use a pistol.”

Hope sighed happily and squeezed his hand. “I think you are neglecting another field of study full of many fruitful lessons I’d like to study.” This was a Robert she was just getting to know. One who smiled and joked and comforted. She liked him very much.

He tugged her hair aside and grazed the back of her neck with his teeth. “That could take years. Now tell me the rest of your story.”

She shivered, as if approaching something dangerous, wishing her story began and ended here, lying next to him.

“We remained friends, Malcolm and I. He can be very entertaining when he makes the effort, and pleasant when he doesn’t think he owns you. He took me to the theater one night to watch from his box, and Charles was in the next one over. He and his brother invited us to dinner at a nearby tavern after the play. When the bill came, neither of them had money to settle it. It seems that royal persons seldom think of such things, so it was I who paid. I told them they were the poorest company I’d ever kept, which he seemed to find amusing. He called me to the palace the next day. From then until the night I met you, we had been together for nearly a year. So…now, you know all about me. I am a common whore, but not a common shore.”

“You’re no whore and you’re a most uncommon woman. One can’t help what one is born to. Only what one makes of it. You have met adversity and become a fine lady, with a lightness of spirit that warms those around you.” His voice turned wistful and his fingers stroked her shoulders “I’ve seen you dancing on May Eve and imagined you a fairy. I’ve seen you wield a sword, best Mrs. Overton and land a pike as long as my arm. I see the life and beauty you’ve brought to this sad old house and I’m glad you’re my wife and very proud of you.”

She smiled, content. He wasn’t a glib courtier or a shallow flatterer. His words held meaning. It would do for now.

Hope Nichols was a patient woman. And a determined one. As autumn approached and the household began to prepare for winter she acknowledged to herself that she’d stumbled upon the life she’d always wanted, when and where she’d least expected. Well, almost. She was mistress of a beautiful home and had a handsome husband who stirred her blood with just a glance, but there was still the small matter of the king and her inevitable recall to court. And though she was deeply in love, he’d never said that he loved her.

Since the night he’d refused to talk about himself, there’d been a growing darkness about him, as if her questions had pulled something dangerous to the surface. Responding to the need she saw in his eyes, she did her best to fill their time with happy moments. He moved into her room, and now every night she enjoyed him in their bed. There lovemaking was hot and fevered. She awoke in the mornings, her hair and bedclothes rumpled, her body ripe and sated, her limbs tangled with his.

They talked of Cressly and the household, their likes and dislikes, shared their opinions on matters large and small, and the more they learned about each other the closer they became. But they avoided any mention of her return to court, or anything connected to Robert’s past, and it left a gaping hole between them. One Hope had never noticed or minded with other men.

September was a busy month. Whooper swans, ducks, and geese came to stay the winter, while swallows and martins rose into the sky to start their journey south. As the first bright leaves began to tumble to the ground, the larders were stocked, blankets were mended and on St. Mathew’s Day, Nottingham held its justly famous Goose Fair. After five days of shopping and gawking and celebration, Hope returned to Cressly with her husband and retired to her room, exhausted. The night was damp and though it was an extravagance, someone had left a roaring fire. She slipped into a bed gown and settled in with a glass of brandy to enjoy the blaze.

She grinned when she felt the mattress shift behind her, and gasped in delight when cool fingers slipped a lustrous pearl necklace around her neck.

“It was my mother’s,” he stated simply, but his breath was warm on the back of her neck. “She meant me to give it to my wife.” Those few simple words spoke volumes. She threw herself in his arms and tears stained her cheeks.

“It’s supposed to make you happy,” he said with a rueful smile.

“I know. I am. It’s lovely, Robert!” She hastily wiped away her tears on the sleeve of her gown.

“Good!” He stretched out beside her and tugged gently on her hair. “When you cry it’s hard to tell. I know you’re used to finer but—”

“No. I’ve never received a finer gift. Or a gift that meant so much.”

He shifted uncomfortably but didn’t deny it. Her good nature and enthusiasm for life had melted much of his reserve, but guardedness remained a deeply ingrained habit. He knew he’d been distant lately, though he felt closer to her than anyone. The necklace was a way to show her how special she was.

“It frightens me to say this, Robert, but I have never been happier.”

It startled him to hear her echo his own thoughts. He knew what she meant exactly. “Neither have I. It’s like a lovely vision. One is afraid to reach for it or try to hold it, lest it shimmer and disappear.”

“Is it that fragile, do you think?”

“No. It’s that precious.”

He kissed her cheek, her nose, her eyelids. “Hope…I am going to have to leave Cressly for a week...two at most.”

“What?” She lifted her head, searching his face, her dismay clear. “But what if…”
What if Charles sends for me?
If he meant to recall her to court, they might hear from him anytime now. He would want the thing done before winter came and the roads became too difficult for travel. She would hear from him within the next month, or else not before the spring.

“I have important business in the north. It simply cannot wait.”

“I see. Might I inquire as to this important business?” Her voice held a definite touch of frost, but underneath she blinked back hot tears. He had promised her that if she was summoned to court he would stand with her. He had said he’d be her champion. How could he do that if he wasn’t going to be there? Did all men forget their promises so soon?

“There is a man I must see in Farnley Wood.”

“But what if Charles summons me?”

He gripped her shoulders. “It is a matter of grave importance, Hope. One that has weighed heavily on me for a very long time. If I miss this opportunity, I might not get another and it could put us all in danger. I will go by horseback and switch mounts along the way. I promised that I’d be there with you and I will. If he
does
summon you, delay him. Tell him you are ill.” I will finish with this and we’ll deal with Charles together. Trust me, Hope. But I
have
to do this. I have no choice.”

“Why?”

He answered her with silence.

“You have a door in your mind and heart that is closed to me. Why won’t you let me in?”

“Because some things are best left buried. I’ve seen things, done things, Hope. Things that are best left unsaid.”

A shiver traveled up her back. The way he said it. His voice and eyes now so remote. But she was not a timid woman. “Is it worse than what you know of me? Shall I tell you more? My mother sold me, yes, but when I told you I wasn’t a good actress I lied. I stayed with a man whose touch made my skin crawl and made him believe I liked it. I didn’t have the delicacy or decency to die of shock or heartbreak. I locked my soul in a gilded cage and I laughed, I joked, I thrived! What have you done that is so terrible? What is so much worse than that?”

“Can you not just take a chance and trust me?”

“ Can
you
not trust that I would understand?”

He sat up and reached for the bottle of brandy. It had to happen sooner or later, he supposed it might as well be now. “I have killed men, Hope, and would do so again.”

“Of course you have. Along with thousands of other men. I mean no offense, Robert. But that sounds rather squeamish for a soldier.”

He gave a short laugh and downed the fiery liquid in one swallow. “I am not squeamish, love. Do you really want to know what my business is in Farnley Wood?”

Something in his tone of voice made her hesitate, suddenly unsure. She snatched the flagon from his hands and poured herself another drink before answering. “Yes. I really want to know.”

“I go hunting.”

“Hunting? I don’t understand. How is that so—”

“I am hunting a man. I’ve discovered I can find him there. And when I do I will kill him. He is not the first. There have been others.” His voice was cold, devoid of emotion. He opened his fist, raising his fingers one at a time and she counted silently,
one…two…three...four.
“He will be the fifth.”

She stared at him, at a loss for words.

“You ask too many questions,” he said tiredly. “I have warned you repeatedly.” He moved to get up, withdrawing from the bed, the room, the conversation. Withdrawing from her.

She rallied and reached out to grab him, her hand on his arm like a vise. “No you don’t! You don’t get to give me that kind of answer and then get up and walk away. You must have a reason and I want to hear it. To kill in battle I understand. Even in a stupid duel. But to hunt a man and kill him, you make it sound like sport. I don’t believe it. What would that make you?”