Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (11 page)

Apparently, Eliza Valchamps, gray eyed and ash blond, was beautiful enough for Thomas Sandrick, for his eyes had never strayed from her. A discreet look from her lowered eyes was all the acknowledgment he'd received, but it was enough for a man in love.

Cordelia had not missed the masculine glint of approval in Thomas Sandrick's eye or the blush that had momentarily brightened Eliza's pale cheeks when she had greeted him. Her task might not be as difficult as she had imagined when first asked to introduce her nonentity of a cousin to a prospective husband in London, Cordelia thought. A speculative gleam in her eye, she watched the two young people.
To wed little Eliza Valchamps to Thomas Sandrick would be quite an accomplishment, since the gentleman was wealthy and heir to a title and vast estates.
And since they were both Catholic there would be no difficulty on that score. She would make certain the banns were announced before Eliza left London, Cordelia promised herself. And, she thought with a smile of anticipation curving her lips provocatively as she recognized one gentleman in particular amongst a lively group approaching, she would see that Raymond Valchamps rewarded her handsomely for her efforts on behalf of his sister. as brother-in-law to Thomas Sandrick, dear Raymond, knowing him as well as she did, would soon have a far heavier purse to carry about. She would have to lighten it considerably for him.

"Dear, dear Raymond," Cordelia greeted him, the smile and look in her eye unsettling to the gentleman who had captured her notice. He knew his beautiful cousin to well to be flattered by her effusive attentions, Cordelia never did anything unless it suited her purpose.

"Cordelia, exquisite as always," Raymond Valchamps responded, ignoring his sister's presence as he acknowledged the other gentlemen at hand. "Whitelaw," he said, "I believe congratulations are in order."

"Oh?" Valentine Whitelaw raised a politely curious brow, for Raymond Valchamps had never been one of his close acquaintances.

"Yes, indeed. 'Tis all I've heard since doffing my cloak, how Valentine Whitelaw is stealing prizes right from under Drake's nose. Hear the man will have to chain his crew to the deck if he wants to keep them aboard, so many of them anxious to sign on with our latest hero. I understand 'twas a galleon loaded down with Philip's gold and silver that you boarded and took as your latest prize. Whatever will he say when he learns the treasure is in your pocket instead of his?" he exclaimed in amused speculation.

"Ask Valentine to finance Alva's mercenaries in the Netherlands," George bellowed, his next comment lost in the laughter which followed.

"More likely Elizabeth will grant our brave sea captain a title," Raymond Valchamps added, unable to
hide
his envy of the other man.

George Hargraves smiled slightly, for it was well known that the two men had been longtime rivals for the affections of the beautiful yet elusive Cordelia Howard, and from the seductive look in Cordelia's dark eyes when she gazed at Valentine Whitelaw it would seem he was the victor-at least for present, for Cordelia Howard was not known for her constancy.

"Sir Valentine Whitelaw. Has a nice ring to it," George commented. "Although, seeing how dangerous life at court can be, 'twould seem to me that Valentine would have a far better chance of being knighted if he'd stay in London and defend his friends' backs. Many more bloodthirsty mercenaries to deal with right here in Whitehall than in all the Spanish Main. Wouldn't you agree, Valchamps? I believe you have been involved in quite a few skirmishes of late," George remarked, for he suspected it had been Valchamps who had made certain that the queen had heard a particularly malicious piece of gossip concerning the reputation of a lady he was fond of.

For a moment Raymond Valchamps said nothing, allowing his gaze to rest on George Hargraves. And, as usually was the case, his adversary gradually grew ill at ease, losing h
is advantage to the other man,
for it was difficult to hold Valchamps's gaze for long, and he knew it. With a slight smile curving his lips, and never reaching the one blue eye and one brown eye, he said, "Indeed? Can't say I remember, Hargraves. Most likely you've exaggerated the importance of whatever 'tis. In fact, I'd lay odds 'twas yet another one of your endless pranks. 'Sdeath, but one seldom knows whether or not to take the man seriously," he said to no one in particular as he glanced at George Hargraves's short figure with insulting speculation. "Ought to recommend the gentleman to Elizabeth as her next jester. 'Twould certainly keep us amused until the next village idiot comes along. I'll even supply the bells for your cap."

George Hargraves reached for his glove to wipe the sneering smile from Raymond Valchamps's face, but before he could challenge him to a duel, he felt a restraining hand against his arm. Despite his efforts, he could not shake Valentine Whitelaw's grip.

"Have caution, my friend. 'Twould not be worth the effort, George," Valentine advised. "Besides, Thomas would not thank you for causing him such an unnecessary hardship."

George Hargraves and his adversary, as well as Thomas
Sandrick
, seemed puzzled by the offhand remark. "Thomas?"

"What the devil does Sandrick have to do with anything?" Raymond Valchamps demanded arrogantly.

"Well, should George lose, and I do think it likely since you are a fairly capable swordsman and outreach George by several inches, I would then have to challenge you. Your subsequent death would, I suppose, result in your family mourning your passing. And that brings me to Thomas, who would not enjoy seeing the fair Eliza dressed in black. Nor indeed would Cordelia, a distant relation, or her many admirers thank you for causing her such an inconvenience."

George slapped his thigh, his laughter mingling
with
his friends' as his anger was cooled by amusement. Unfortunately, however, it seemed that Raymond Valchamps found Valentine Whitelaw's conclusion anything but amusing. He met those mocking eyes, but they never wavered from his, much to Raymond Valchamps' discomfort for a change. He was reaching for his sword when he heard a commanding voice behind him.

"God's death, but I'll have no brawling in my palace!" Elizabeth vowed. "Have you
gentlemen
, and I use the word with some doubt, the need to prove yourselves on the field of battle, then there is the tilting yard beyond these walls. But take heed, my mettlesome ones, for if you continue with this dispute you may find your pretty heads rather than your proud shields hanging in the Shield Gallery. And beware! I would not thank either one of you for depriving me of the other's company," she warned.

" 'Twould seem well-behaved and handsome courtiers are devilishly hard to come by nowadays," she remarked, her dark eyes flashing her disapproval and seeming to send a special message to the group of finely dressed gentlemen at her side. Amongst that elite gathering: Lord Burghley; Sir Francis Walsingham; Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, the queen's longtime favorite who seldom seemed out of favor with Her Majesty for long despite his indiscretions; Sir
Christopher
Hatton, darkly handsome and the finest dancer at court; Philip Sidney, a distinguished young gentleman poet who personified all that was honorable; Edward de Vere, ever quarrelsome and Cecil's son-in-law; and other notables and would-be notables jealously guarding their places at Elizabeth's side.

With a casual gesture, she bid her loyal subjects rise. Apparently satisfied that she had suitably impressed the two who would have dueled in her presence, she smiled. They were both such handsome rogues she found it difficult to remain angry. Indeed, she would rather flirt with them than have them banished from her sight because of such foolishness.

"Well, my roguish captain, 'twould seem we have just welcomed you back into our presence and already a storm is threatening to blow you away from us," Elizabeth said with a twinkle in her eye as she greeted Valentine Whitelaw.

"Your presence, madam, is like the sun shining through the clouds," Valentine said softly before kissing the ringed hand held out to him. On her finger sparkled a glowing emerald, his gift to her at the New Year's celebrations, when he had been given a private audience with her, and during which time he had related his latest adventures.

" 'Tis lovely," she whispered, her eyes gazing down at his dark head.
So young. So free,
she thought sadly.

"It pales before your magnificence, madam," Valentine Whitelaw responded sincerely, and although Elizabeth was still an attractive woman in the middle of her fifth decade, and entering the twentieth year of her
reign
, Valentine Whitelaw was more impressed by the manner in which she had ruled England. Her critics and friends alike might accuse her of many things, arrogance, wantonness, and pettiness, or kindness, loyalty, and generosity, but none could say she lacked courage.
And
none could claim that Elizabeth had ruled with anything but the best interests of her subjects at heart.

"Ha! You will have to look to your laurels my fine ones," she declared with a quick glance around her at her courtiers, "for 'twould seem my good captain is not only brave and
adventuresome
, but courtly as well. We will have to keep you by our side more often, Captain Rogue. Nay, that will not serve, for I do not wish Philip to become too quiescent with one of my sea dogs chained at my side," she said, and loud enough for the Spanish emissary who hovered nearby to overhear.

"This may prove to be the year for hearty English ale rather than sweet Spanish
sherri
s
sack," George Hargraves murmured beneath his breath, and Elizabeth hearing him laughed loudly despite the Spanish gentleman's flushed and angry countenance.

With a sly look, Elizabeth turned her attention to Raymond Valchamps. Although his strangely colored eyes made some uneasy, Elizabeth was fond of him, for he was classically handsome, with finely etched lips and slightly flared nostrils, which lent him an almost faunish look. Despite the delicate molding of his face, there was no question that Raymond Valchamps was a gentleman who enjoyed feminine company. Several of his well-publicized affairs had resulted in his receiving the nickname of Satyr from his queen, who was fond of finding pet names for her favorites.

"Since 'twas my Satyr who was involved, I must believe 'twas over a wench this argument?" she said with a look of displeasure cast in Cordelia Howard's direction, for she knew the dark-eyed she-wolf tempted both men.

"Indeed not, madam," Raymond Valchamps responded quite seriously. " 'Twas over George Hargraves."

"God's death!" came Elizabeth's favorite oath, which she had hardly uttered before her thin shoulders started to shake with laughter as she saw George Hargraves's astounded expression. "By my faith, but I'll knight all three of you for keeping me laughing-
-
either that or have you drawn and quartered for your impudence."

" 'Tis not quite the manner in which I had imagined myself dying for my queen," Raymond Valchamps said, noting with satisfaction that she carried his New Year's gift as well as wearing Whitelaw's extravagant gift of an emerald ring. The whore did not deserve either, Raymond Valchamps thought with a smile as he
pretended
to gaze adoringly into Elizabeth's eyes.

Another year gone and a new one begun, and still she ruled England. But soon
.
.
.

"I hear, my captain, that the ring you wear in your ear is Spanish gold. Is't true?" Elizabeth demanded, tapping Valentine's arm with her fan.

"Indeed, madam. The gold comes from a doubloon, one of many from the treasure of the first Spanish galleon the
Madrigal
took as her prize. A constant reminder, madam, of Philip's generosity to an enterprising Englishman," Valentine said.

"Your Grace! Really, I must protest so flagrant a boast of piracy!" the Spanish emissary expostulated angrily. "This man should be in chains for such an act, and yet here he is being presented at court as though having accomplished a heroic act. This is an insult to Philip and the honor of Spain. I demand satisfaction, madam, and certainly recompense for the man's thievery."

"Do not ask for too much, little man. Or you may receive more than you
had
bargained for. If Philip cannot keep the purse strings drawn, then do you not expect me to," Elizabeth berated the flustered gentleman before turning her back on him.

"Now, which of my bold ones will partner me? My captain or my Satyr?" she asked with a flirtatious glance between the two men as she prolonged making the choice and ignored the hopeful faces of her temporarily forgotten courtiers.

"Satyr, let us dance," she declared grandly. "You, my Captain Rogue, I shall save the next dance for. 'Tis a slower one, so I may prolong the pleasure."

"The pleasure will be mine, madam," Valentine Whitelaw responded with a courtly bow.

"Then see that you keep your eye on the step so you do not disgrace me," she warned. "There would be those, deceitful and disloyal, who would try to distract you," she added with a gleam in her eye as she caught Cordelia Howard's impatient movement.

" 'Twould be like holding a farthing candle to the sun, madam," he said. Then, with a roguish smile that caused Elizabeth's hear
t
to flutter, he added, "Besides, I have always had a penchant for red hair, madam."