The Hawk and the Dove (6 page)

She had not dismissed her ladies-in-waiting yet and they encircled her in the pale insipid gowns she insisted they wear so she would stand out like a jeweled centerpiece. Every female in the room lusted for him and he was fully aware of it, yet not by one look or gesture did he acknowledge or notice them. He knew intimately of each lady’s youth and beauty, but at this moment he had eyes only for the queen’s most precious person. She was well pleased with him. The black pupils of her eyes glittered. “You may leave us now. The queen would be alone with her Sea God.”

Before the door to the privy chamber had fully closed behind her ladies, Shane swept Elizabeth into strong arms and strode with her down the room to the chair of state. “Bess, I’m starved for the sight of you!” Hawkhurst knew she loved a man to be independent and daring. She could not stomach weakness in a man.

“Put me down! God’s blood, you are a bold fellow!”

“Who intends to be bolder,” he said, pressing his lips
to her neck just beneath her ear, then sat himself in her chair of state and held her in his lap. He grinned down at her. “I brought you a present.”

“I heard about the Spanish galleon. Your daring transcends ordinary sanity!”

“I mean a present for you, Bess, not England.”

Her black eyes glittered with excitement at being held captive against his broad chest.

“Where is it?” she commanded.

“Find it!” he challenged.

Her long, slim hands made short work of frisking his body until she detected a box tucked inside his doublet. Her fingers slipped between his doublet and his silk shirt, but still could not close over the treasure, for it was beneath even the shirt. Her nimble fingers undid a button and slipped teasingly between the silk and his naked flesh, and he pretended to groan with the passion she aroused in him.

Exultantly she drew forth the box and opened it greedily. There lay a magnificent pair of dangling ear ornaments of jade and emeralds. She was inordinately fond of jewels and allowed him to fasten them onto her ears. Then he looked deep into her eyes and said suggestively, “What hidden treasure do you have for me, Bess?”

She slapped his bold hand from the hem of her gown. “You forget yourself because I call you a god.”

“Nay, I’m all man!”

“Knave is more like it,” she scolded archly. “If I invite you to return tomorrow will you bring me another jewel?”

He grinned. “Aye, but if you invite me to return tonight, I’ll give you that which I treasure most.” Then he bent and kissed her full upon the mouth.

She melted into his arms; then, like quicksilver, she jumped from his lap and assumed her queenship again. “Sirrah, I command you to come for the dancing tonight. More you dare not hope for.”

“I dare anything, Bess.”

“You have been away overlong, my Adonis—six months, was it not? I demand equal time.”

“Your Majesty, my father lies near death. If aught happens to him I shall have to beg your permission to leave court.”

Her eyes narrowed. “A few days only. I want you to join our summer progress in July.”

Although it was the farthest thing from his heart he said, “I shall be honored, Your Majesty.” He bowed low and she offered him her hand to kiss, but before he could depart she threw out the question he had been expecting. “What is my share of the profits?”

He hid a grin and said, straight-faced, “Forty thousand pounds, Your Grace.” She half smiled, and he added, “And I’ll throw in the galleon for good measure.” Then she smiled fully and the effect was dazzling.

Back on board he changed out of his peacock garments and got on with his other business. By nightfall he had unloaded all the cargo into his own warehouses, which were guarded twenty-four hours of the day. Tomorrow he would tally up forty thousand pounds’ worth of silver and other rare goods and have them transferred to the treasury.

He then sought out Jacob Goldman at Gray’s Inn, the preserve of all London’s lawyers. “Good evening, Goldman.”

“Not so good, Captain Hawkhurst. Though I traced
the owner of the land you wanted, I was not able to procure it for you.”

Hawk uttered an oath, then advised, “Try again—raise our offer.”

Goldman nodded his understanding and Hawkhurst waved it aside. “We’ve more pressing business. Draw up marriage contracts.”

Jacob Goldman’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Who is the lucky bride, m’lord?”

“Ah, that’s the tricky part, Jacob. You must find one for me.”

Jacob Goldman thought his dealings with the Hawkhurst empire had inured him to surprises, but as he listened to his client he could hardly believe what was being asked of him.

Hawk finished, “So you see, I gave my word to my father. God knows, he’s asked little enough of me.”

“So, what are your requirements for this wife?” Silently he wondered,
Where in hellfire do I even begin?

Hawkhurst helped himself to a mug of ale from a jug on the sideboard and paced the room. “My requirements are few. First, she must not be from London. A young lady from a small country place would be best, I think. Within reason she should be of marriageable age. Someone too long in the tooth would be set in her ways; I’ve always found girls more amenable than mature women. She need have neither beauty, wealth, nor title, so long as she is from an impeccable background.”

Jacob Goldman looked at him blankly. “Is that all? Surely, m’lord, you will be more selective than that?”

“Jacob, I have no time to be selective. Good God, man, I’m not picking a mistress. I need a girl who is willing to marry in less than a month’s time, say June fifteenth, and
in view of the unseemly haste I’ll settle five hundred pounds on her and another five hundred on her family.” He put down the empty tankard with a thud and demanded, “Do you think you can help me?”

Silence hung on the air, so that in the far distance a dog could be heard barking. Then Jacob Goldman began to laugh. For a moment he couldn’t talk and tears of laughter rolled down his cheeks.

Hawkhurst glowered at the solicitor and demanded, “What is it, man?”

“You won’t believe this, m’lord,” he said, taking out a linen handkerchief to wipe his eyes, “but I’ve got a wife for you!”

Shane felt relief and dismay in the same instant.

“The land in Ireland you need for sea access to your own lands belongs to a young woman in Cheltenham. She would not sell the land because it is her only dowry, bequeathed to her from her Irish father. Her stepfather is a reverend of the English church in Cheltenham—impeccable family background. So you see, if you offer for her …”

“I get a wife and I get my land,” finished Hawkhurst.

“Exactly! When can you arrange to travel up to Cheltenham to see the young lady?”

“I can’t,” he said flatly.

“But surely you wish to see her, speak with her?” insisted Goldman.

“I trust your judgment implicitly, Jacob. Draw up the contracts.”

“You wish the marriage arranged for June fifteenth, then?” he asked, pushing all his doubts aside. Would the girl agree? Would the stepfather? He thought he’d have little problem with the latter because of the settlement
involved, but what of the girl? His only hope was that the animosity between her and her stepfather was so great that she would accept the marriage as a means of escape. He must succeed in this mission, for if he failed Hawkhurst in this he knew he could say good-bye to any future business dealings.

By nine of the clock that same night Shane Hawkhurst, resplendent in pale blue, was lifting the queen high in the gavotte in the music gallery at Greenwich, and stayed dancing attendance on Her Majesty and her ladies until past midnight, as he had been commanded to do.

By one o’clock his clothes had been exchanged one more time for the serious business of his first night in London. He and the baron, garbed head to foot in black and heavily cloaked and daggered, made their way from the docks down Gracechurch Street toward the corner of Threadneedle, where they slipped unseen in the back door of a brothel. From the street it was shabbily nondescript, for the London night house operated behind a blank face. It was to his credit, or discredit, whichever your view, that he did not go there to whore.

Sabre had reached such a low point that if she could have reversed her decision about selling her land, she would have done so. She realized the money would have enabled her to escape even if she had forfeited it to Reverend Bishop in return for her freedom.

Reverend Bishop also wished he had acted differently when the solicitor had interviewed his stepdaughter. Perhaps if he had treated her with kid gloves and showed her some fatherly affection, he could have altered the little hellcat’s decision. So when Jacob Goldman once more arrived at the large rectory house in Cheltenham, he was ushered in with the greatest deference, introduced to Mrs. Bishop, and served refreshments.

“Reverend and Mrs. Bishop, the man I represent is Captain Hawkhurst, heir to the great Hawkhurst shipping enterprise. His father, Lord Devonport, is gravely ill and in the event of his death his title will be passed on to Captain Hawkhurst.”

Reverend Bishop was suitably impressed to be dealing with the nobility. Therefore, when Goldman broached the subject of marriage, the reverend’s mouth fell open.

“I bring an offer of marriage from Lord Devonport’s heir to your daughter Sara, providing the wedding can take place June fifteenth.”

His youngest daughter, his precious Ann, jumped into the reverend’s mind, but as soon as he proposed her name for the brilliant match, he realized that of course the girl who owned the coveted land would get the noble husband.

“Captain Hawkhurst sends his apologies for the un
seemly haste, but I have drawn up the marriage contracts and he has most generously agreed to a settlement for Sara’s family as well as herself.”

Mrs. Bishop was effusive in her praise for her child. “I always knew Sara would marry well. She’s special, you know.”

“Then you don’t forsee any objection on her part to this proposed union?” asked Jacob Goldman, feeling most uneasy about broaching the matter to the beautiful young woman they were discussing.

“Objection?” demanded her stepfather irritably. “I shall overrule her objections, sir. It is my place to accept or decline offers of marriage for my daughter—she has nothing to say in the matter!”

“Ah, Reverend Bishop, that of course is true,” agreed Goldman tactfully, but don’t you think perhaps if Sara thought it was her decision to make, we would stand a better chance of a speedy and mutually beneficial conclusion to this matter?”

“Yes, George, you do have a tendency to make Sara do exactly the opposite of what you wish, although I have no idea why that is so.” Mary Bishop sent him a look that beseeched him not to spoil their chance of being connected with the nobility.

“Very well. Just to please you, my dear, we will have her down and
ask
her, rather than tell her.”

When Sabre had heard the whole story, she couldn’t quite believe that this was happening to her. She looked from one to the other, hoping that she wasn’t dreaming the whole thing. She realized she had received the offer because of the land, but that was what it was intended for —her dowry. To marry a stranger was frightening, but it was also exciting, and the prospect of going to court was
like a dream come true. She realized that if she didn’t grab this chance, she might never have another. When offered two alternatives she had always chosen the bolder course. When she smiled at Jacob Goldman, his heart lurched. “May I sign the contract now?”

Her mother was making a great fuss over her and even her stepfather looked fatuously pleased. Mr. Goldman directed her to read everything carefully and showed her where to affix her signature, and she signed
Sara Bishop
in triplicate, but all she was aware of was the bold, dark name already on the bottom of the contracts—
S. Hawkhurst.

As if a magic wand had been waved over her, her life changed dramatically. Suddenly she had become the center of attention. As well as being the pivotal figure of the family’s fevered activity, she was the focus of great curiosity and envy from all the aunts and cousins, and word was spreading throughout the congregation and beyond to all the townspeople of Cheltenham and Gloucester.

Sabre basked in her moment of sunshine. At every opportunity she emphasized, “My husband-to-be is a great favorite at court, you know; I will be spending much time there.” Her excitement grew daily until she could not sleep at night, and she could not resist sending smug little smiles in her half sisters’ direction when she was being fitted for her wedding gown.

Finally she was having her choice honored and she had chosen a cream-colored satin embroidered all over with pearllike beads. She would have a cream lace half-ruff, so she could wear her glorious hair down in display for her bridegroom, and when she tried it on and preened in front of the looking glass, the copper curls sat on the ruff as pretty as a wedding cake!

Sabre could not help rubbing raw the nerves of her sisters and cousins when she saw their mouths tighten with envy. She laughed when their whispers reached her ears; it would take more than their venom to ruin her wedding day; in fact, she believed nothing on earth could spoil it for her.

She walked about in a dreamlike trance thinking of the bridegroom who would come to claim her. Her thoughts were obsessed with him as she envisioned his height, his hair, his eyes, his mouth, his hands, and then she would shiver with excitement. His manners would be courtly, for he was used to the company of the glorious queen of England, another magnificent being her imagination gifted with all the graces. Someday in the not-too-distant future he would become Lord Devonport and he would transform her into Lady Devonport. She was breathless at the thought of it, though it saddened her that his dear father must depart this earth before it became a reality.

She displayed her small trousseau of busks, petticoats, night rails, slippers, and one traveling outfit to her cousins, and when they pointed out how meager it seemed, she waved her hand airily and explained her husband would provide her with a whole new wardrobe in London, for the fashions of the court were far ahead of anything that Gloucester could provide. The styles were so daring at court, she told them, that worn elsewhere they would create a scandal. Each and every female was consumed with envy, for they knew Sabre Wilde was quite capable of creating a scandal, daring fashions or no.