The Perfect Royal Mistress (18 page)

“Ah, there is no way that I could ever forget you.”

She frowned slightly again, then, very suddenly, her happy smile returned. “’Tis true what they say, that you can charm any girl you please.”

“Being king does have its privileges,” he smiled back at her, feeling as if he had known her forever. “And what of my theater, which they tell me you have recently abandoned?”

“I’ve left it for greener pastures.” Nell glanced back at Buckhurst, who was clearly beating both Ogle and Sedley at a drinking contest. She grimaced at the way they laughed and swayed, and how they were cheered on by the others who had gathered around them.

The king’s eyes followed hers. She was embarrassed by the display that was all too common at court.
Good,
he thought. His gaze intensified. “It’s Buckhurst, the biggest libertine in England, you’re with?”

“If Your Highness will pardon me, I thought that was
you.
”

“It is just that I rather expected more from one of London’s great new actresses.”

She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Speakin’ of that, where, might I ask, is Mrs. Davies?”

Charles could not have imagined allowing someone to speak that way with him even an hour ago. But for a moment, she had bested him, and he had actually enjoyed it. He stood then, took both of her hands, and drew her against him in a way that surprised them both. “As it happens, Mrs. Davies is in London, along with the queen and Lady Castlemaine. Now then. Have you any
more
clever questions for me?”

“Not at the moment. But, if you’d like, I’ll let you know when I do.”

He threw his head back and laughed. He was feeling enormously invigorated, and desirous of doing far more with this absolutely wild, delectable creature than merely spar. But all in good time. The chase, the thrill of the chase, that was the thing. They were so close now that he could smell the fragrance of her skin. It was cool and lightly floral. “So. You are here with Buckhurst as his what?”

“As whatever it takes to change my life, and ’elp me to care for my sister.”

“Ah. The notion that every actress should find herself a nobleman and settle down.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty, not every actress can find ’erself a king now, can she?”

“Fortunately, I’m certain you have heard that the king has a dreadfully wandering eye.”

“And just who might that be dreadful for?”

“Any girl not clever enough to tame it, I suppose.”

“And is there such a girl in all the world?”

“Not so far. But the king before you is an optimistic man with a benevolent heart.”

“Your Majesty shall keep tryin’ to find that girl?”

“I might well have done it.”

“And yet, there is a problem?”

“Sadly, it appears
she
may well be preoccupied at the moment by another man.”

“That would be dreadfully sad,” she teased.

“Indeed, it would.”

They were still so close that in spite of the flurry of guests and music around them, he kissed her as if they were entirely alone. Her lips were warm, and he felt her knees give just slightly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. It had not ever felt like this to kiss anyone. It was a moment more before they came apart. He took her hand then and ran the tip of his tongue across the inside of her wrist. “Tragic not to know what might have been,” he said on an exaggerated sigh.

He could see her struggle to swallow. The tide had turned. Now he had entirely bested her, and they both knew it. How utterly delicious.

“’Tis ’ow Your Majesty greets all your lady guests, is it then?”

He was smiling. “Only the truly special ones.”

“My ma always said to beware of strangers with honeyed tongues.”

“Did she not also tell you the value in a bit of risk?”

“She never really took many risks at all. Which likely explains why she’s been ’appier all of these years stayin’ drunk.”

“I’m sorry, Nell,” he said, speaking her name aloud for the first time, and feeling an odd little shiver at the sound of it on his tongue. “My own mother’s rather fond of drink as well.”

“Oh, you couldn’t compare the two. Yours is a queen, and all mine has ever been is a royal pain in the arse!”

He laughed outright. “Tell me, do you always have such a quick reply to
everything
?”

“Thinkin’ things through is dangerous work, Your Majesty.”

“And we couldn’t have
that,
now, could we?”

“Not if a girl from Coal Yard Alley expects to get ’erself to a proper square like Lincoln’s Inn Fields one day.”

He was not listening now. He was thinking only of what he longed to do with her, and how he meant to make that happen with Buckhurst only a few feet away. How difficult could it be? The fool drunkard had not even noticed that the king of England had taken his mistress and kissed her, in front of his entire court. Feeling his insistance, she tried to turn from him, but he held her hand, tightening his grip.

“Lord Buckhurst needs me.”

“Oh, my dear. Do take care with
that
illusion. Lord Buckhurst may be many things, but—”

“He’s kind and generous…and he is goin’ to change my life.”

“I hope you’re right about that. The good Lord above knows you’d be the best thing ever to happen to him.”

“Well, now, that’s right diplomatic of Your Majesty to say.”

“It’s only the truth, Nell. I cannot seem to speak to you any other way. Most women make me want to run as far from
that
as I can get.”

When she began to turn from him again, he gently pulled her back. A heartbeat later, he pressed a last kiss onto her neck, just beneath her earlobe. The heat between them pulsed, then flared as their eyes met.

“Will you be at the races tomorrow? My horse, Old Rowley, is competing.”

“Old Rowley, is it? ’Tis not a name I would’ve chosen for a king’s ’orse.”

“And he’s not actually a horse a king might have chosen. But I had one just like him when I was a boy. Those were good, carefree days I like reliving whenever I can.”

“I’ll tell him I would like to go. But I can’t promise. You know Lord Buckhurst.”

“I don’t suppose it would help if I commanded him to attend?”

“No.” She paused a moment. “But you might invite ’im. ’E’s ever so impressed to be known by the king of England.”

“And you, Nell, are
you
impressed?”

“Flattered, surely.” Her gaze held his fully. “But if I were too impressed, I couldn’t be myself.”

“And I certainly would not want
that,
” the king said in reply.

Another
actress
? thought the Duke of Buckingham condescendingly.
That jade from in front of the theater? When had
that
occurred?
He knew well enough when the king was besotted. He had stood through the entire conversation with his back to the king and Nell, in disbelief at her spirit and wit. Nell Gwynne was voluptuous, clever, and deliciously unique. It was not at all likely that she could find the powerful place Barbara had held at court—or in the king’s heart—but she might do quite nicely as a temporary replacement. The only impediment, he thought, watching them together, was that wastrel, Buckhurst. The king was led away by Arlington’s wife, Isabella, to dance a spirited courante, and now Nell was struggling to help Buckhurst to his feet, his having just collapsed with Sedley into a fit of drunken laughter.
A damsel in distress. How perfectly priceless.
Buckingham calmly strode the few paces to her, and gave her his most charming smile. “Do pardon me, Mrs. Gwynne, but might I be of some assistance?” He watched her expression: At first, she was grateful for the intervention, then she recognized him as the man who had been with the king that day in front of the theater, and only too willing to insult her.

“I don’t suppose a girl like me needs Your Grace’s sort of ’elp.”

He nodded. “The problem is, if you do not forgive our unfortunate misunderstanding, you will likely be on your own in getting a very dissolute man back to his house.”

She stared at him. “I’m all right on my own, Your Grace. Gettin’ by on my own’s the way it’s always been. Rather good at it, I am.”

“I’m certain life has made you the resourceful woman you are. But learning to accept assistance when it is offered shows your wisdom.”

Buckhurst was vomiting on the ground now between them, and Sedley had passed out in an equally unattractive heap.

Nell did not want to trust him, he could see, but he pressed on. “I shall send two of my stewards and my coach. You cannot handle him as he is now, and you should not be made to. You need not trust me in order to accept. I shall remain here at the banquet in order to prove I have no ulterior motive.”

Nell tipped her head, looking at him cautiously. The night air between them was bright with fireflies. “Very well, then. Thank you.”

“Don’t think another thing of it. You were right to be wary of me, and I was wrong to have underestimated you. It has been quite a long while since I have done that. Hopefully, we can start again on a better footing.”

“I don’t suppose a duke ’n me would find ourselves very often in the same company for any sort of foot at all.”

“One never knows, Mrs. Gwynne. Look at you, present at an affair given by the king of England. Would you have expected that a year ago, you with your oranges in front of the King’s Theater?”

“That seemed about as likely then as you offering your friendship.”
Lord, but she was quick. Yes, indeed. In need of a bit of training, a bit of style, but she would definitely fill the bill for now.
“Well said, madam.” The Duke of Buckingham smiled and led her away to find his coach.

Nell wanted to return to London. But one thought alone had stopped her. To what would she return? She had not allowed herself to see truth for fantasy; she had come to Newmarket with a nobleman who had never actually offered to marry her. But the reality she could no longer ignore was that Charles Sackville was a drunkard. Life with him, no matter how richly decorated, would not be far from the one she had escaped in childhood with her sodden mother. Nell was sitting beside his bed when he finally opened his eyes the next afternoon.

“Pray, tell me what time is it?”

“Past one,” she replied flatly.

He squinted and tried to sit up. The stale odor of wine lingered. “Oh, dear. There you are, lovely as a picture, and I am quite dissolute.”

“You retched all the way home from the king’s banquet.”

He lay against the spray of pillows behind his head as Nell stood up and pressed back the heavy velvet draperies on their thick iron rod, revealing the great bare window.

“Oh! Show a bit of mercy! The light is blinding, and my gut feels like the site of the Battle of Hastings!”

“You really shouldn’t drink like that.”

“It was no grand drama, Nell, just a bit of frivolity with friends.”

“Frivolity for you, perhaps. But if I’d wanted to go on cleanin’ vomit off my dress, I’d ’ave stayed above the Cock & Pye and faced my own ma!”

He squinted at her again and put a hand at his brow to shield the blaze of silvery white daylight streaming in through the large picture window beside his bed. “At least move away from there if you mean to go on chastising me. I cannot see a bloody thing with you as you are!”

“’Twould serve you right to feel a bit more pain. It might ’elp you to knock your good judgment back into place.”

“Speaking of mothers,” he groaned, trying to sit up. “If I’d have wanted to hear harping, I would have invited my own.” For a moment, they were at an impasse. Then he turned his lip out in a charming little pout. “Tell me you had
some
fun on your own last night.”

“The king tarried with me. And aye, ’twas good fun indeed. In fact, ’e wishes me to come and see ’is ’orse in the race today.”

Charles’s smile was sudden and broad. “Oh, splendid!”

She lifted a brow suspiciously, uncertain of how to gauge his response. She had hoped to make him jealous with the revelation. “You’re not angry, then?”

“Hitching myself to that star, if it’s going somewhere, would be a good bit of work for the Sackville family.”

“Hitched, as in you want a position in the king’s court?”

“A position, as in
work
?” he gasped, then chuckled. “Oh, good Lord, no! But being in the king’s company a bit more often would be a splendid accomplishment for my family, and achieving that would bring me great reward! Nell, you
are
an amazing creature. With all of the women there, how did you manage it?”

She was still wary of his response. “’E found
me,
actually.”

“Extraordinary.”

“So, shall we go to the races today then?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Will you be drinkin’ less?”

“Not at all likely.”

“Then we’re not likely to remain as we are,” she warned him, “if every evening ends as the last one did.”

Buckhurst shrugged, then smiled sheepishly at her. “That’s the beauty of Newmarket. You never can tell just what might happen here.”