The Bellerose Bargain (9 page)

Rodney faced Alicia again when the man had gone and the door was closed. "You were saying, madam?" he questioned.

She laughed lightly. "I just heard that the king is coming to call and you expect me to remember what I’ve been saying?"

"Understandable, madam. You’ll be needing some things that I can send for if you’ll be all right alone here for a time."

"Will Lord Seavers be coming here soon?"

"I think not, lady. You see, he does not know you yet."

A strange and almost victorious look crossed her eyes. She glanced around the room and a smile played on her lips. "That’s right. He does not know me yet."

Rodney studied the expression and recounted the words of just moments before; her declaration that she would not allow herself to be attached to any of this—any of these people. Floating around in her mind somewhere, Rodney guessed, there was more hope and fight than she would admit to or allow to be seen. And he reckoned it was not the fine furnishings or the prestigious position she was aiming to secure for herself. He thought perhaps this young woman before him, now an unblossomed rose, sought the love of a man and the commitment that could accompany it.

"I imagine there will be a formal introduction," Rodney said, unable to suppress a sly grin. Alicia merely lifted her eyes in his direction, showing little, saying naught. "Do your worst," he advised in a knowing way.

"Kind sir," she returned indignantly, covering her inner longings as best she could but concealing them from Rodney very poorly, "I assure you I shall try my hardest to do my best."

"I am Lord Seavers’s man, madam, and he depends on my loyalty, but there is a thing I would have you know: I would not betray him or lie to him, but whenever you need my aid, I am your servant."

Alicia’s heart grew soft and pliant as she luxuriated in a fatherly concern, the likes of which she had not known before now. "I promise you, sir, I intend only to serve Lord Seavers as faithfully as you do."

Rodney nodded and departed, and Alicia took a moment to wander around her splendid new abode, touching the rich coverings on the furniture and turning full circle to take in the four walls and ceilings of every room. When she finally paused in her tour, she did so before the dressing table and mirror in her large bedchamber. She pulled pins from her hair and let the shining tresses fall to her shoulders. She reminded herself that there was work to be done on her stylishness, but what she saw in her reflection now, for once in a decent mirror that did not mar her complexion, was pleasing to the eye. And she would pay close attention to the ladies, learning from them how to make the most of her appearance.

She smiled at the new face—rosy cheeks, light lip paint—and the clean, shining hair falling in thick curls about her shoulders. Charlotte Bellamy would certainly be recognized as fair of face, and with the proper clothing her figure would be greatly enhanced.

"Everyone knows this is a marriage of convenience." She smiled into the mirror. She sighed deeply and focused on her blue-gray eyes. "Do not fall in love with me, Lord Seavers. You might never survive it as the same man."

The apartment at Whitehall grew into a lonely place as Alicia stayed mostly alone, with Rodney popping in and out to bring her food and news. Two full days passed with no other word from the king, and Alicia was afraid to leave her rooms for fear he would come in her absence. Rodney seemed reluctant to leave her totally unattended there, but there were many things needed for her comfort. He spent hours of each day ordering food to be delivered and looking for at least one servant to aid her.

It was while she was alone in her rooms that a man came to her door. Though it was early evening, it had not occurred to her that anyone who meant her harm might come to her rooms, and for that reason she opened the door quickly and was scolded by her visitor. "Odd’s fish, haven’t you a care for your safety, madam? I might’ve been anyone."

She looked in surprise at the tall, bulky man in a dark, thick periwig. He had a harsh-sounding voice, yet a mirth lay hidden in it. Though his eyes were dark and commanding and his full lips set sternly, fear was not her reaction. She felt at ease with his presence.

"Who calls then?" she asked, still holding the door.

"I am Charles; for the moment, your guardian."

With a gasp, she let go of the open door and retreated slightly, her hand first going to her mouth, then both hands going to her sides to hold back her skirts as she began a curtsy, then without completing that she looked at him again, judging his rather casual attire and lack of robes or scepter. "Good Lord, are you that Charles?"

He smirked slightly and entered without ceremony. "I am known as the king here, my dear," he said lightly, turning to close the door. "I hope I’m not coming at your inconvenience, I —" As he turned toward her again, he found her finally accomplishing her curtsy and she was indeed bowing low before him. "Here, madam, rise before you hurt something."

Rising from this new acrobatic was nearly as difficult for Alicia as getting down had been. She was not accustomed to the heavy clothing or the undergarments these genteel ladies wore, and her movements before becoming "noble" had been mostly trotting, stooping to clean, and carrying things back and forth. A hand quickly gave aid. "Thank you, sir," she said.

"Sire," he corrected. "Or ‘Your Majesty,’ or some other appropriate title, whichever you like."

"Yes, Sire," she mumbled.

"Not so much for me, dear, but I imagine everyone about will be watching you carefully, eager to throw stones at you for every error in etiquette that escapes you."

"Oh my," she breathed. "Sire," she added belatedly.

Charles chuckled at her. "I know I’m bound to make you jitter a bit. Call me Charles and let’s sit down someplace. I’ve been running about all day long."

She stood gawking, trying to think of what she should say, how she should lead him, where she should take him, and above all, trying to remember everything that she had been told about the Bellamys.

Charles raised an arm in the direction of her sitting room and his look was impatient. "Madam?" he questioned.

"Sire, I’m sorry," she gasped. "Please..." She moved toward the sitting room, where a settee and a chair sat opposite each other in front of the hearth. He paused inside the room looking at each.

"Where do you like to sit?" he asked her.

For a moment she considered, and the answer was the chair, for it was more comfortable. "Please take the chair, Sire," she said quickly.

Charles sat down so that she might also sit, and once seated, he confronted her. "I see my judgment was right this once, my dear. I decided to meet you privately rather than have you presented at court, knowing that this is all a bit new to you." She fidgeted on the edge of her seat, hanging on his every word. "I hope you’ll relax in a moment. I’m too tired to watch you tremble and I swear I haven’t killed a maiden in at least a fortnight."

She took a deep breath to still the excited fluttering of her heart. Inside she wasn’t sure his attempt at joviality was pure jest. She didn’t know him, she barely knew of him, but if anyone could slay a maid for jitters, a king could.

"I thought your hair might be red," Charles commented. "And I heard that you were...ah, well fed."

"Heard?" she repeated.

"Well, your father, you know. He spoke of you from time to time, when he was petitioning for his lands, and while I know he did not see you often, he described you as beautiful though generous of body."

Alicia looked nervously at her hands. "What father doesn’t think his daughter beautiful, Sire," she said quietly.

"It’s plain to me that he was being very modest. So, are you ready to make the acquaintance of your groom?"

"Yes, Sire."

"He’s quite handsome, and the women consider him something of a rogue, as he seems to need them a good deal less than the rest of us do. What strange creatures we are, chasing all the time and loving resistance best. Ah, well, he’s escaped the ladies quite successfully, as I’m sure you’ve been told."

"I’ve talked to no one, Sire," she said a bit quickly.

"I would have hoped his man, that huge old war-horse, what’s his name, would have sold his lord mightily to you."

"Oh, yes, Sire," she replied. "Rodney, Sire. He did tell me Lord Seavers is handsome."

"Unfortunately, Seavers expects you to be rather unpretty. There’s one or two here that claim to have made your acquaintance not long after my return and had not the best report. But that was a while back and you were much younger. Women, I realize, do a great deal of changing as they approach womanhood. Your changes have either been tremendously good ones or I heard only jealous tongues wagging."

"Jealous of me, Sire?" she asked innocently.

"Madam, your wealth is not great, but it has received some attention, since a number of men at court have less. And having a king take care of your inheritance makes it seem even more important."

"My thanks, Sire. It’s kind of you to bother."

"Don’t thank me too soon, madam. If Seavers is able to do half of what he intends, I’ll be getting a goodly share back."

Her attention was snagged immediately. "Sire, please, what does he intend?"

"His shipping venture, my lady. He plans to establish himself on the sea, beginning with one ship. And not much of a ship at that, since I only recently toured it. Sadly for you, it’s my right to arrange your marriage, and I’ve arranged it to Seavers because I wager the man can do well whatever he takes on." He leaned back in his chair and looked her over. His dark, lazy eyes studied her face and she felt herself glow under their intensity. "I’ve gambled your inheritance for you, Lady Charlotte. And before you let the fact insult you, let me assure you, I’ve been a fairly good gambler in the past. I think I can place a bet at least as well as you can. Probably better."

"I’m satisfied, Sire," she said softly, getting at least one clue as to why the real Charlotte had fled. She might well have been hysterical at the thought of what she might face in the king’s gentle care. Seavers could have been a wretched, lying, aging horror.

But he was not. And Alicia guessed the king had gambled wisely.

"I shall see that you meet him immediately. I will present you to him myself on the night after next in my chambers. There will be many guests, though only my usual ones, and my lady Castlemaine will hostess the affair. Is there anything you need while you wait?"

"I don’t know," Alicia said honestly. And again as an afterthought, she added, "Sire."

"Well, clothing. Do you have suitable clothing?"

She lowered her eyes. "I’m not sure."

"I’ll send someone to help you with that. Did you bring servants and a coach?"

"Only myself, Sire."

"Odd’s fish, you were poor." He scratched his chin. "I imagined Fergus did as little for you as possible. I’ll send someone to help you with your staff as well."

"That’s very generous of you, Sire."

"You’re to be my ward, which makes this my obligation, but the money will be drawn from your estate before Seavers begins his spending, which I’m certain will quickly follow the marriage. When should you like that to take place, madam?"

"At your convenience, Sire," she replied.

"In a week? Month?"

"I...I..." She stopped the stammering and simply shook her head in wonder.

"Of course. You’ll want to meet him before you give an answer. Very well." Charles rose and Alicia jumped to her feet. "We’ll talk of this when you’ve met your betrothed, but I pray you get this marriage done quickly. The gossips can’t stand the wait."

"Yes, Sire."

He strode quickly to the door without turning. When he arrived and his hand found the latch, he turned to look at her again. A puzzled frown creased his brow. She looked nothing like Fergus, for that much he was most grateful. He wondered for a moment if she would find any old friends at court and as quickly he realized she would not, for no one knew her, including himself. Then his expression suddenly changed and his smile was devilish. "Oh, you’re going to greatly disappoint them, madam."

Panic filled her eyes. "Oh, how, Sire?" she asked impetuously.

"You’re really quite pretty," he replied with a shrug. "They’ll hate you for it. The women at least." He chuckled again and opened the door. "The men will hate Seavers." He started to duck out of the door. "I won’t be far if there’s any real trouble," he said. "Good evening, madam." And the door closed.

Alicia turned away from the closed door. "The king," she said aloud to her walls. "Dear heaven. The king thinks I’m pretty." Her mouth curved slightly. A weak and nervous laugh escaped her. She considered that he would be clothing her and hiring her servants out of the inheritance that Geoffrey had worked so hard to get. She laughed again. "Perhaps in a month, Sire," she said with feigned innocence. With the laughter coming more easily and the lilting feeling filling her stomach, she picked up her skirts and began to dance around the room.

In the captain’s cabin of the Patrina, there existed a bunk, large desk, and chair, shelves lining the walls, stacked coffers, and a general mess. Amidst rolls of plans littering the desk top sat a barely touched tray of food. Behind the desk was a small stand that held a basin of water and a mirror leaned against the wall. Geoffrey Seavers attempted to fit a periwig to his head in front of that mirror.