Ruth Langan (21 page)
Authors: Blackthorne
“Did you know that, besides my love of butterflies, I am much interested in painting and composition?”
“Nay, Majesty.” The boy’s eyes rounded with surprise.
“I do greatly admire it, though I have little talent for it. You have been given a rare gift, Liat. It is my hope that you will study with the masters, in order to polish your craft. And some day, I think, you will be counted among them.”
The boy beamed at the compliment.
“I thank you for this, Liat. I shall treasure it.” Charles got to his feet and held the drawing aloft, so that the crowd could see and admire. They burst into polite applause, while the little boy stood flushed with pleasure.
“Come, Liat. I think they must see this as I have seen it, so that they might appreciate your talent.” Charles handed the parchment to his valet, then caught Liat’s hand and led him through the crowd. His valet walked a little behind, holding the drawing out to the admiring public.
As the titled men and women had an opportunity to examine it more closely, their enthusiasm grew. Men ruffled the lad’s hair while women bent to kiss his cheek. For a shy boy who’d had little contact with such people, it was a heady experience. By the time he and the king returned to the dais, Liat’s smile was beaming.
Charles was thoroughly enjoying the role of benevolent monarch. He kept the boy’s hand in his as he turned to Quenton and Olivia. “You have not yet met the other member of my party.” He drew a pretty young woman forward. “I present Louise de Keroualle.”
Quenton kissed her hand and she gave him a shy smile before turning to Olivia.
“The boy is yours?”
She spoke with a decidedly French accent.
Olivia shook her head. “How I wish he were mine.”
She didn’t see the look of surprise and pleasure that crossed Liat’s face. But Quenton did. And felt his heart stir.
“I am his governess,” Olivia explained.
“You teach him?”
“Aye. And see to his care and upbringing.”
“A noble endeavor. You are most fortunate,” she said in halting English.
“Come, my dear.” Charles caught Louise’s hand and led her to the edge of the dais, positioning her on his left side. Turning, he said to Olivia, “You will stand to my right, with Liat in front of you and Quenton beside you.”
They did as they were told.
“Pembroke,” the king called.
At once the butler hurried forward.
“You may begin the presentation now.”
The older man bowed. “Aye, Majesty.”
At a signal the crowd surged forward, forming a line of couples to be presented to their king and his host The most important people were led to the front of the line, while the others were asked to step back and make room.
Olivia couldn’t believe this was happening. The daughter of a simple professor was standing beside the king of England, grandly welcoming England’s elite.
She barely heard the names of the sleek, handsome men and their elegant ladies as they were presented to the King.
The names droned on, and through it all Olivia behaved as was expected, smiling, nodding, saying all the right things.
As she was making polite conversation with an elderly duke, she became aware of a sudden tension in Quenton. It wasn’t anything he said, but rather a stiffening of his spine, a clenching of his fist at his side.
Pembroke’s voice intoned, “Lord Robert and Lady Agatha Lindsey and their son and daughter.”
Olivia looked up and felt all the blood drain from her face. There was a strange ringing in her ears when she found herself staring into the cold, brittle eyes of her aunt and uncle, and behind them, her cruel cousins, Catherine and Wyatt.
Chapter Eighteen
“L
ord Stamford. Niece.” Robert Lindsey gave a curt nod of his head in greeting. Knowing the king was watching and listening, he was careful to say or do nothing that could be considered unfriendly toward this man who was the monarch’s closest friend, or the woman who stood beside him.
ord Stamford. Niece.” Robert Lindsey gave a curt nod of his head in greeting. Knowing the king was watching and listening, he was careful to say or do nothing that could be considered unfriendly toward this man who was the monarch’s closest friend, or the woman who stood beside him.
Agatha was too furious to say a word. The sight of Olivia standing in the place of honor beside the king had her eyes glittering with jealousy. It had been her greatest source of pride that she and her family had been singled out for this visit. She had come to Blackthorne believing that she and her family would be treated as honored guests and that her niece would be consigned to some dreary suite of rooms with the brat she had been hired to tutor. It had never occurred to her that her sister’s child would be invited to stand beside England’s ruler, wearing a king’s ransom in jewels.
Beside her, Catherine could do no more than stare. Her sulky look said it all. How could this plain lump of a cousin from some dreary little village have turned into this glittering, sparkling beauty? It was so unfair. She should be the one to be favored by the king. Couldn’t he see that she was far superior to her cousin?
Of the four, only Wyatt was able to compose himself. As he had waited patiently for the long procession to move, he’d had time to think through what he would say and do. It gave him such pleasure to know that Olivia had been caught unaware. He could see, by the way she was staring, by the way the color had drained from her face, that she was feeling far more shocked than he.
He gave her a long, assessing look that had her skin crawling. Enjoying her discomfort, he shot her a chilling smile and took her hand in his.
“How delightful to see you looking so well, cousin. It would seem that life in the country agrees with you.”
He brushed his lips over the back of her hand and felt her shrink back from him. So, she was still afraid of him. That realization caused him to chuckle with delight.
“Oh, this will be such an enjoyable visit. I am so looking forward to many long, intimate conversations, cousin.”
When he moved on Quenton leaned close to mutter, “Cousin? You are related to Lindsey?”
“Aye.” Odd, how difficult it was to speak. As though she had swallowed a stone and couldn’t dislodge it Fear, as sharp and swift as a knife, sliced her heart. This was followed by a rush of such loathing, she was actually trembling.
She wiped her hand along her skirt, hoping to wipe away the touch of Wyatt. “His mother and mine were sisters. Do you know the Lindseys?”
“Nay. I know only their son.” His voice was chillingly devoid of any emotion. As though waging a war within himself. “Wyatt.”
Before Olivia could ask how he knew of her cousin, more couples approached and she realized she would have to put aside whatever questions she had for a later time. Despite her agitation, she fell into the easy rhythm of greetings and conversation.
Finally the interninable introductions were concluded, and the king led the way to a cluster of chairs where the guests could view him. At a signal from Mistress Thornton, a servant brought a tray of wine and ale. Other servants began to circulate among the crowd, filling tankards and goblets.
A mime and a juggler entertained, and the crowd, following the lead of their king, applauded with enthusiasm. Musicians, brought from the village, began to play, and the king eagerly led his lady, Louise, into a dance. At once the crowd was on its feet, joining in.
Quenton glanced at Olivia. She still appeared drained and shaken. He welcomed the opportunity to hold her.
“Come, my love. It is required that we dance.”
“All night?”
At her stricken look he gave her a gentle smile. “Nay. Just the first dance. I promise you, as soon as the king gives us leave, we will escape to our rooms.”
Escape. It was her only thought. She had to escape the evil in Wyatt’s eyes. And the venom of his tongue. The mere thought of being in the same hall with him had her quaking.
As Quenton led her to the floor, she leaned into him. Oh, this was what she’d needed. The sanctuary of his arms, holding her warm and safe. As long as she was assured of his love, his quiet strength, no harm could come to her.
“I’m sorry about Bennett,” she murmured. “I saw him leaving the hall right after greeting the guests.”
“Aye. Apparently the time spent in all those introductions was too long and tedious for his frail health. He looked exhausted and very pale. But at least Minerva is with him. Now,” he said easily. “Tell me about this aunt and uncle.”
“There is little to tell. I never met them until the day I buried my parents. They arrived from London and announced that they were taking their penniless niece home with them.”
“I believe you said your stay was unpleasant.”
She nodded.
He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face for his inspection. “Tell me why, my love.”
She shook her head. “I can’t bear to speak of it. It is enough to tell you that I was made to feel... most unwelcome in their home.”
The fact that she couldn’t speak of it made it all the worse in Quenton’s mind. He knew of Wyatt’s reputation with women. Many a father throughout England wept after his daughter had come in contact with the man known to be a brute and a bully. And now, to learn that Wyatt’s parents were the people who had sent Olivia packing in the dark of night was simply one more reason to despise them.
“You are both looking far too serious.”
They looked up to see Charles and Louise beside them.
“My lady.” The king caught Olivia’s hand. “You will dance with me.” He winked at Quenton over her shoulder. “I shall soon have your lady smiling, old friend. And you have my leave to dance with the lady Louise. I daresay she will put a smile on your face as well.”
He whirled away with Olivia in his arms. True to his word, he soon had her laughing aloud with his irreverent comments about their many guests.
“You see Lady Edwards?”
Olivia glanced toward the plump woman dripping with jewels. “Aye.”
“She would much rather be eating than dancing.”
“How could you possibly know that, Majesty?”
“We are well acquainted. Very soon now she will manage to develop a pain in her knee, or a discomfort in her hip. Then, as soon as her husband joins the other gentlemen in a tankard of ale, she will send a servant to fetch—” he raised his voice to a falsetto impression of the lady’s voice “—just a bit of mutton, perhaps a small bite of biscuit. And, oh yes, while you’re at it, you may as well bring me a slice or two of that brandy-soaked cake.” He joined in Olivia’s laughter. “And she’ll wash it all down with several goblets of wine.”
“Oh, Majesty. What would the lady say if she could hear you?”
“She would try to deny it. But it would be difficult while chewing all that food.”
He nodded toward the Duke and Duchess of Renfrew. “It is most fortunate that the lady was born of wealth.”
“Why?” Olivia asked in all innocence.
“Because it is the only way a woman with that face would have ensnared a husband. Else she would have remained a spinster to her dying day.”
“Majesty.” Olivia’s mouth dropped in surprise.
He shrugged. “Everyone knows the duke’s fortunes were at low ebb. It was necessary for him to marry well. And he did. Very well, indeed.” He whirled her around several times, then smiled at Lord and Lady Weldon. “Now there,” he whispered in Olivia’s ear, “is a very rare thing.”
“And what is that, Majesty?”
“A true love match. They are each comely in person, and each had many suitors. They brought both wealth and love to their marriage bed. And ’tis rumored that they love each other still.”
“It shows,” she said. “In their eyes. In their smiles.”
“I see the same in yours, my lady.” He gave her a long, steady look. “I’m pleased that my old friend has found someone to give him back his smile. It has been sorely missed.” His voice deepened with emotion. “Quenton’s life has not been easy. Perhaps that is another reason why I love him so. We have a history of shared misery. And now we rejoice at each other’s successes.”
Olivia was astounded by the king’s candor.
“And now, my lady, if you will excuse me, I must dance with Lady Edwards. Just to torment her, you understand. ’Twill keep her from the food for at least another few moments.”
He paused beside the couple and whirled off with Lady Edwards, leaving Olivia to dance with the elderly lord.
“My wife was just complaining about her foot,” Lord Edwards said as he moved with Olivia to the music. “I suppose she will be forced to suffer for a few minutes longer, now that she is dancing with His Majesty.”
“Aye, my lord.” Olivia had to fight to keep from laughing aloud. She saw Charles wink at her over the lady’s shoulder, and she coughed quickly to cover the laughter that bubbled in her throat. “I daresay a sore foot is little price to pay for the privilege of dancing with the king.”
“I quite agree.”
He moved with quiet grace, despite his bulk, and Olivia found herself enjoying the dance. Then the old lord turned when he felt a hand at his shoulder.
A man’s voice said, “I believe it is my turn to dance with the lady.”
Lord Edwards bowed and stepped away and Olivia looked up to see her new partner. Her heart sank.
“Well, my little country cousin. How clever you are.” Wyatt’s hands circled her waist and he gave her a chilling smile as he pulled her close. “Who would have thought that you would make such an impression on the lord of the manor?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” He boldly touched a hand to the jewels at her throat and felt her reaction as she jerked away. “Ah. I see. You still refuse to allow me to touch you.” He closed his fingers around her throat as though he would squeeze the breath from her. His voice lowered with feeling. “I would wager that you didn’t resist when he put his hands on you.”
Her eyes widened but he merely pressed his thumb against the softness of her throat and smiled at her struggle for breath. “I have no doubt he put his hands on you, dear, sweet little Olivia. Else you would not be the recipient of such largesse as this.”
He saw Quenton look over at them and turned her away so that she could see only him. “Of course, you are not the first woman to be won over by the glitter of gold.”
“How dare...”
As she struggled to break free of his arms, he tightened his hold on her and whispered in her ear, “I haven’t yet finished with you, cousin.” He caught her chin and forced her to glance over at the laughing couple across the room. “Look at the very young, very pretty lady Louise, on the arm of our king. Is she not lovely?”
When Olivia said nothing he gave a cold, chilling laugh. “Did you know she is a gift from the king of France?”
“A...gift?” Olivia turned to him with a look of shock and surprise.
“Aye. To replace the...services of Barbara, Lady Castlemaine.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you do, little cousin. I know it sounds sordid to one as sweet and unspoiled as you. But Charles has a fondness for very young, rather childish mistresses. The French king, knowing this, wishes to curry favor.”
“I do not believe you.”
He shrugged. “You may ask anyone. Ask Lord Stamford. If he is a truthful man, he will tell you the same.”
“Has the young woman nothing to say about this... arrangement?”
Wyatt’s tone was laced with sarcasm. “Why should she mind? Don’t bother to waste your sympathy on her. Like all of those who have gone before her, she will be well compensated for her... tender ministrations.” His voice lowered. “Lord Stamford’s friends will no doubt say the same about you, when he has tired of your charms.”
“I have had enough of your cruel remarks, Wyatt. Release me.”
“In a moment, cousin. Let us circle the floor once more, so that every man and woman in the hall can get a good look at the Stamford emeralds at your throat. They are, after all, the cause of many whispers.”
When she glanced around, she felt the sting of censure. The guests were indeed staring at her.
Suddenly, the gift that had touched her so deeply now weighed as heavily as a guillotine around her neck. There was a heaviness around her heart as well. Though she didn’t want to believe him, the words Wyatt had spoken rang in her mind. Could it be that she, too, was being compensated for her tender ministrations? Had she lulled herself into a false sense of security? She had, after all, been brought here for one purpose, and one purpose only. To see to the care of a little boy of dubious parentage. And for that she was being paid handsomely. But now she had moved beyond the role of mere governess.
Without any coercion on Quenton’s part she had gone to his bed. And had gone willingly. This very night she had stood by his side, looking for all the world like a woman of wealth and title, wearing the Stamford emeralds and hearing the whispers from the crowd.
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