Margaret Moore (16 page)

If he didn’t contrive a way to see her soon, she would slip away from Owens and go to his office. Or, she mused as she glanced at Owens walking slowly behind them, maybe she could think of a way to get away from both her maid and Lord Cheddersby this very day.

As she continued to survey the park, she also looked for Rob’s friend who was supposed to be watching out for Lord Cheddersby. She had seen no sign of him, but he was probably an expert at keeping his presence a secret. The only people near to them at present were a couple—a tall, roguish-looking fellow in a bright yellow coat and a very pretty young woman who hung on his arm and whispered in his ear.

“Surely your friend would have been upset if you had fallen,” Vivienne said, realizing that she should, perhaps, comment on what her companion had just said.

“Oh, yes, of course, he would have been concerned for the state of my pate, but he would have been furious just the same.”

Vivienne subdued an urge to smile. She was sure Lord Cheddersby, who was looking very serious, had not meant to make a rhyme.

“As it was, my new jacket was ripped from collar to hem,” Lord Cheddersby concluded with a sigh.

“You sound as if you miss Lord Farrington and Sir Richard,” Vivienne noted.

“I do! I have nobody left.”

“You must have some friends in London if you are having a fete.”

“Oh yes, a few. A hundred or so. And the king, of course.”

“The king will be there?”

“I cannot say for certain. It all depends on his mood. He may, or he may not.”

“I think I had better not tell my uncle about that. He would be so disappointed if the king did not come, after all.”

“Well, I must say I don’t mind if Charles doesn’t trouble himself. He’s rather … overwhelming.”

“He struck me as a very pleasant man, for a king.”

“Oh, I assure you, Mistress Burroughs, that I meant no criticism. He is a pleasant man, especially to his good friends and his mistresses. Lord, I don’t know where he finds the patience to put up with half of Lady Castlemaine’s tantrums.”

Vivienne cleared her throat delicately. “I understand she has her ways of compensating him.”

“Indeed, yes,” Lord Cheddersby replied matter-of-factly, “if you think that’s sufficient. I would rather have more peace.”

“I think you are a very wise man in that regard, my lord.”

“Do you really?” he cried, looked at her with unabashed delight.

“Yes.” She hesitated a moment. “And you have Mr. Harding for a friend.”

“Yes, I do, I suppose, but he’s rather forbiddingly grim. Still, I’ve invited him to my fete, too.”

This pleased Vivienne much more than the possibility of the king’s presence.

“To be honest—and although I am pleased he accepted—I really thought he would decline,” Lord Cheddersby confessed. “He doesn’t seem the sort to go to fetes. I mean, have you ever seen anybody so frighteningly solemn? I swear he makes me feel guilty even when I haven’t done anything more serious than curse my tailor.”

“Have you known him long?”

“Oh, yes, he’s been making my clothes since I was five.”

“I meant Mr. Harding.”

“No, not really. Lady Dovercourt knew him and recommended him quite highly. Her father hired him, and I gather he was pretty sharp about such things. I was very glad to have him in the matter of … well, in the matter I needed him for.”

“Really?” Vivienne prompted, halting for a moment.

She didn’t notice that the couple nearby had also come to a stop, or that the young woman was studying her with great interest.

“It was a minor piece of business, but he did it very well, I must say.”

“What sort of business?” she prodded.

Lord Cheddersby’s flush deepened. “Nothing important.”

He had not made such an abrupt response to anything else she said, so Vivienne did not press him further. “He seems a very competent lawyer.”

“I was quite desperate for company when I asked him along to the theater,” Lord Cheddersby admitted with a genial smile as they continued walking toward the canal. “I am very glad I did, because he allowed me to meet you.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Would you care to stop at a coffeehouse? I would be happy to buy you some chocolate.”

Vivienne shivered at the thought. She had tasted that bitter brew once, and it was horrid. “No, thank you, Lord Cheddersby. Perhaps it is time we headed home. My uncle may be wondering where we are.”

“Oh, yes, indeed.” As they turned back, Lord Cheddersby came to a halt so suddenly, he nearly fell over. “Good Lord! That’s Nell Gwynn,” he cried, staring at the young woman clinging to the young man. “Oh, odd’s bodikins, it’s her. Here. In the flesh. She’s even more beautiful than on the stage. Oh dear, I feel faint.”

“Here, my lord, hold on to me,” Vivienne offered as she struggled to put her shoulder beneath his arm, for the young man had truly gone deathly pale.

Then she realized the couple were approaching.

“Do you need any help?” the young woman asked.

She really was quite pretty, with rich chestnut hair and bright hazel eyes, and now Vivienne could see that Lord Cheddersby had been quite correct. It was the same woman she had seen upon the stage of the King’s Theatre.

As for the man beside her … it was Rob’s friend. Up close, he looked more frightening than he had at the theater, lack of an eye patch notwithstanding, and as his gaze raked her body, he seemed an insolent rogue. Yet Rob called him a friend. Given their upbringing, perhaps she was being too quick to pass judgment.

Lord Cheddersby staggered to a more upright position, then bowed. “M-mistress Gwynn, this is delightful,” he stammered like a peasant facing a royal princess. “I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed you in
The Happy Troubadour.
You were a revelation!”

“Well, parts of me were revealed right enough,” she replied with a hearty laugh. “And who might you be, sir?”

“Me? Oh, I am … I am … Foz … Fozbury … I think.”

Vivienne thought she had better come to her companion’s aid. “This is Lord Cheddersby,” she said. “And I am Vivienne Burroughs.”

“Ah!” The actress nodded knowingly as she glanced at the man beside her. “This is Mistress Burroughs, Jack. Mistress Burroughs, Lord Cheddersby, this is Jack Leesom.”

Lord Cheddersby’s brow furrowed. “Do I know you, Mr. Leesom? Have we met at the races at Newmarket, perhaps?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you saw him at the theater?” Nell suggested. “He’s there nearly as often as you.”

“Oh, yes, I believe I did,” Lord Cheddersby said, clearly relieved to have that mystery solved. “You were talking to Mr. Harding.”

“You know Heartless Harding?” Nell asked.

“He never told me he knew you!” Lord Cheddersby cried.

“He never told me he knew you, neither,” she replied with rather surprising coyness, given her bold manner and brazen comment moments before. “I’ll take him to task for that, I will. Imagine him knowing a fine young lord like you and not telling me. Why, it’s selfish, that is. Very selfish.”

Lord Cheddersby blushed bright red from his collar to his wig. Meanwhile, Vivienne glanced at Jack Leesom.

Who winked at her.

That was not at all pleasant. He made her feel as if he thought she belonged on the stage. Or in a brothel.

“Why, here he is. I’ll give him what-for right now,” the actress declared, looking past Vivienne.

She glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, beyond a clearly stunned Owens, Rob came striding toward them, his visage as grim as usual.

“Well, Rob Harding, aren’t you the fine one?” Nell demanded as he drew closer. “Fancy you knowing Lord Cheddersby here and not telling me about him.”

“Mistress Gwynn, I have several acquaintances that I don’t mention to you,” he replied gravely as he made a polite bow.

Vivienne feared she was blushing more than Lord Cheddersby had, and didn’t know where to look. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at Rob.

He looked wonderful, if serious, his bearing more regal in his plain black woolen clothes than Lord Cheddersby’s or even, she decided, King Charles’s.

“Good day, my lord, Mistress Burroughs, Mistress Gwynn, Mr. Leesom.” He looked at Vivienne. “I have just come from your uncle’s.” His gaze continued toward Lord Cheddersby. “He tells me he has just received a shipment of some particularly fine silk from Italy, and he thought you might be interested, my lord, so I offered to bring you the news. He fears it will not be long before it is sold.”

“Italian silk?”

“The silk itself is from Cathay. He bought it from an Italian merchant.”

An obviously conflicted Lord Cheddersby looked at Nell Gwynn, then back to Rob. “Silk from Cathay?” he repeated in a whisper.

“Cathay,” Robert confirmed. “He implied there was no time to be lost. Allow me to suggest that you get a hackney coach back to Mr. Burroughs’s.” He glanced at Owens. “I also suggest you take the maid with you. She’s looking very fatigued.”

With a pang of remorse, Vivienne noted that he was quite right. Owens looked exhausted.

“Oh, dear me … I don’t know …”

“Please, Lord Cheddersby, I don’t mind,” Vivienne said, “and the day is so fine, I would like to walk a little more. I shall be quite safe with Mr. Harding, I’m sure, out here in the park. I promise you we shall head straight back to my uncle’s.”

“I’ve always wanted to see silk from so far away,” Nell Gwynn murmured.

“Have you? Have you really?” Lord Cheddersby asked eagerly. “Why don’t you come along with me, then? I shall be delighted to purchase some for you. A very small recompense for the pleasure you gave me at the theater.”

Nell smiled like a cat with a bowl full of cream in front of her. “Well, I’d be a fool to say no to that, wouldn’t I? And there’ll be plenty of room for that old deary in a coach, won’t there? She reminds me of me mother, except the maid is sober,” she added with another laugh as she slipped her arm through Lord Cheddersby’s. “That’d be all right, wouldn’t it, my lord?”

Lord Cheddersby suddenly looked as torn as Paris trying to decide between the goddesses. “I don’t think I should leave Mistress Burroughs like this.”

“Mr. Harding is most trustworthy, I’m sure,” Vivienne said, careful not to sound too keen.

“Real silk,” Nell said with a sigh. “All the way from where Marco Polo went. And a piece for me? I’ll have to be sure to thank you proper, my lord.”

Whatever objections Lord Cheddersby had, they obviously withered away at that. “Come along, then, Mistress Gwynn, Owens,” he said, offering the maid his other arm. “I’ll tell your uncle to expect you shortly, Mistress Burroughs.”

“Please do,” she replied with a nod that he didn’t see, for he was already heading off with Nell and Owens.

Very aware that Jack Leesom was still with them, Vivienne faced Rob, who gave Jack a pointed look. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“Nell’ll watch him like a hawk if there’s a present in it.”

“Jack,” Rob chided softly.

“Oh, all right. I’m off after His Lordship who’s so delighted about fabric.” He gave Vivienne a jaunty bow. “Farewell to you, Mistress Burroughs. You keep your wits about you, now, and don’t let Rob take liberties.”

A slightly sheepish expression appeared on Rob’s face and a blush colored his cheeks, making her feel curiously lighthearted. “I’m sure I have nothing to fear from Mr. Harding.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jack mused. “He’s done some pretty naughty things in his day.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Jack,” Rob growled in warning.

Jack grinned. “Right. I’ve got a job to do, so off I go. Until another time, Mistress Burroughs.” He reached out and took her gloved hand, then, before she could pull it away, lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of it.

She was very glad she had gloves on.

Before he sauntered off in the same direction as Lord Cheddersby, Mistress Gwynn and Owens, he made a sly, smug little smile that didn’t cause her to feel any more disposed to like him, even though he was Rob’s friend.

“And thus we are alone,” Rob murmured, his lips slowly curving up in a smile.

“Did you plan this, Mr. Harding?” Vivienne demanded with mock indignation.

“I wish I could say that I did,” he confessed with a smile, “but in truth, it is pure serendipity. I could think of no better excuse to see you than the marriage settlement. It truly was your uncle’s idea to summon Lord Cheddersby. I believe he sees a large profit from the man.

“As for Nell and Jack, I know Jack sometimes invites his female friends along on such jobs. He claims it makes him less noticeable.”

“Nell Gwynn strikes me as a very noticeable woman,” Vivienne observed.

Rob grinned, an expression so delightful, she had to laugh. “I will have to mention that to Jack. Somehow, though, I don’t think he will listen to me.”

Vivienne realized that there were a few other people nearby, several of them eyeing them curiously. “As happy as I am to see you, I think it might have been better for us to meet at my uncle’s.”

Again he grinned, and this time, there was a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. “Then let us leave this public place.”

She flushed hotly even as she put her hand on his arm.

“And go where?”

“Why, to your uncle’s, as promised.” He looked down into her eyes. “I grew up in the streets of the city, so I know them very well. You will be amazed at the different ways one can take to the same destination. I intend to take you by my secret route.”

A
s Vivienne and Rob made their way through the back lanes and alleys that lay within the populous city, there were still more people about than Rob would have liked.

He wanted to be alone with Vivienne.

However, he could take some comfort in the fact that none of the people they encountered were ever likely to have anything to do with a merchant of Mr. Burroughs’s affluence, so they would not know who Vivienne was, or tell him about seeing her with Rob.

Occasionally, someone who knew him, either an acquaintance or former client, would call out to him, and they would stop and converse for a little while. No matter what reason they assigned for Vivienne’s silent presence beside him, the people were inevitably respectful and polite.