The Perfect Royal Mistress (37 page)

“But what if someone should get ’urt?”

“That is more than likely.”

“But these are your friends, your subjects!”

“And, more precisely, George has been a friend to
you.
”

“’E ’as been, indeed!”

“If he has helped you understand anything about life at court, then you must know he would not want this stopped.”

“Even if it means his own death?”

He turned to her then, but his face was expressionless. “Even if.”

Lending a modicum of propriety to what was already a scandalous affair, Lady Shrewsbury left England to visit France the next morning.

Or so the court was told, though there was no one who had actually seen her depart.

As the sun rose, Nell sat in her dressing gown in the little alcove beside her bed. Charles had left at dawn to return to Whitehall to have breakfast with his eldest son, Monmouth, and so Nell waited alone for Rose to return. She had been out with John Cassells, who, presumably, had told her everything that had occurred. Perhaps her sister understood things more clearly and could explain them to her. Yet Rose had not seen the expression of anger on Shrewsbury’s face, or the look of confident resignation the Duke of Buckingham presented. Worst of all was the evil glee with which Lady Shrewsbury observed it all unfolding. It did not seem to Nell, based on her response, that the lady cared who won or who lost the duel, so long as they fought over her.

Nell gazed out her large bedroom window facing the square. The glass panes were covered with an early morning autumnal frost. Jeddy was still asleep in the little low bed beside her own, warmed by the fire. Her face was softened by the full belly, and sugary marchpane, with which she had gone to sleep. She smiled to herself thinking how content she would feel, if not for the battle that was likely to cost someone his life.

When Rose came in finally, Nell heard the front-door latch click. She descended the wide staircase alone, her dressing gown sweeping over the polished oak steps, and stood facing her in the still-shadowy entrance hall. Then, without a word, they embraced, each knowing what the other knew. A moment later, Rose followed Nell into the grand drawing room, where the servants had already lit a fire.

“John is to be present at the duel today,” Rose quietly announced, warming her back at the hearth. “And I’ve told ’im I must be with ’im somehow.”

“’E’s not in danger, is ’e?”

“’E’s not one of the seconds, so not directly in danger. Yet still, I’ve got to be there. If somethin’ were accidentally to ’appen, I’d never forgive myself.”

“You’re a woman, and ’Is Majesty wouldn’t want you to be there. You know that,” said Nell.

“’E wouldn’t want
you
to be there. But I suspect you’re comin’ with me anyway, aren’t you?”

“’Ow ever could we do it?”

“As it ’appens, John ’as offered to dress us up like page boys.” She smiled as the foolish image circled in both their minds. “We can ’ide in the shrubbery there, surroundin’ everything, yet be close enough to see.”

“An ingenious fellow, your Captain Cassells,” said Nell. Then she laughed. “Lord above, Rose, I would never even attempt such a thing without you beside me!” Nell’s expression changed again, mirroring the worry she felt. “’Is Grace ’as been so good to me, Rose. I ’ate that ’e’s gotten ’imself into this.”

“You can’t afford to think like that now. John’s reminded me, as you once did, that court is a very different world, and we’ve got to learn to fit in with them, not the other way round.”

A voice interrupted them. “She’s right, you know, Nell.”

It was a man’s easy tenor that came from behind them, beneath the archway into the drawing room. Both Rose and Nell pivoted around to see the last person they ever expected. Charles Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, was standing there, handsome and carefree as ever, in a suit of sea-green silk, with a matching cloak and shoes with shining silver buckles. His hat was plumed with an ostrich feather, and his mouth, as always, wore the same slightly twisted smile that once had won her for a time when she was still one of Mary Meggs’s orange girls.

“But you’re in France!” Nell cried out in surprise.

“I was indeed. But apparently I was drinking the ambassador dry, and testing his hospitality in it. He sent me back without incident.”

“Clever way to get home.” Rose smiled at him.

“Your girl let me in,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind. I’d no idea you’d kept her.”

“She’s not my girl, and her name is Jeddy,” Nell replied.

After an awkward silence, considering what was proper, and what was her deeper wish, Nell dashed across the room and embraced him. She knew that she should be angry with him for how he had let it end, yet she wasn’t. “Oh, ’tis good to see you!” she said, laughing as they embraced.

“And it is a feast for the eyes to see you.” He held her out at arm’s length. “My, but the royal purse has made you into a remarkably elegant lady in my absence.”

“My sister worked right ’ard to become proper, all on her own,” Rose defended, as the two continued to embrace.

“I wouldn’t doubt that for a moment.” He kissed each of her cheeks as Rose left the room by a small arched doorway beside the fireplace. “Yet I can see that wonderful, refreshing Nell is still there just beneath the surface, for anyone who truly cares to look.”

“A great deal’s ’appened while you’ve been gone.”

“To begin with, I hear you’ve quite captivated the king. That is certainly a change from the girl I chased through a certain meadow in Newmarket not so awfully long ago.”

She sank onto a small settee covered in blue Florentine silk, fanning out her dressing gown. A moment later, he sat beside her, and took up her hand. The feel of it was so different from the king’s. There was no great command in the way he gripped her fingers, yet there still was a potent history there.

“I’m sorry I left like that, Charles.”

A smile played at the corners of his mouth in response. “You really did break my heart, you know.”

“Your ’eart is meant for revelry, not love. When I discovered that, ’twas time to leave.”

“And His Majesty’s is different?”

“’E says ’e loves me.”

“Well, now. That does put a crimp in the notion of a reconciliation between us.” He lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it, in spite of his cavalier tone. “So, then. There’s no chance at all, I don’t suppose, of us having, at the least, an assignation on the side when His Majesty is otherwise engaged?”

“None at all, I’m afraid.”

“Seems a waste of such a lovely home, so suspiciously far from court. Have you ever asked yourself why he put you so far from the center of everything—and everyone else—with whom he lives, if it is genuine love between the two of you?”

Nell stood then and smoothed out her dressing gown, feeling a hint of defensiveness overtake her genuine regard for him. “I told him once, in passing, that this particular square had always seemed the most elegant in the world.”

“Convenient wish to grant to keep you and Lady Castlemaine from one another’s throats.”

“You have been gone a while, Charles. Lady Castlemaine was asked to leave court last summer.”

“Is that a fact?”

“It is.”

“Do yourself a favor, in any case, and do not go making the inference that it means you have him exclusively, no matter what he tells you in order to keep a place in your bed. Their romance had been winding down for years, and he had been on the march to replace her. Needless to say, you are not the first woman for whom His Majesty bought a house. Nor are you likely to be the last.”

“You’ve no idea what you’re talkin’ about! ’Is Majesty adores me!”

“He adores all pretty things, Nell, and in abundance.”

“At least for now ’e’s chosen me over a bottle of gin!”

“Dearest Nell.” He sighed, feeling the sting. “Now I’ve angered you, and my greatest wish was only to come here and apologize for my behavior in Newmarket. You really did break my heart when you left me. You know, that is absolutely the truth.”

She softened again, but her expression was still hostile. “Oh, did I?”

“More than anyone else ever has.”

“Then tell me this, would you ever have married me if I had stayed with you?”

For a moment, he studied her. “Based on your expression just now, I am forced to ask, if I reply to that honestly, will you have me thrown out of your house?”

“After most of the people I’ve met at court, if you’re honest, I believe you’ll ’ave a friend in me for life.”

He moved a step nearer, closing the chasm between them. He embraced her very gently then, and, with great sincerity, pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “Nell,” he said very gently. “You are the most exciting, funny, desirable woman it has been my great honor to know. And you were the first person I wanted to see the moment I set foot back in London. But I don’t suppose I shall ever be a marrying sort of man.”

She smiled up at him. “You are every bit the libertine they say you are.”

“Hopelessly, I’m afraid.”

“Pray, tell me you’ll not disappoint me as a friend.”

“I shall be your friend, dear Nell, above all other things.”

Nell chuckled. “The love of revelry could do much to change that promise.”

“But it is nothing compared to the power of our friendship.”

“Well, I could certainly use a friend these days. And, as my friend, will you go to the duel this mornin’ between Lord Shrewsbury and the Duke of Buckingham?”

“That’s not exactly an occasion to which one is issued in happy attendance. And I can proudly say I’ve managed to reach this ripe old age without having been invited to one directly, either!”

“Rose and I are goin’.” She smiled. “We’re dressin’ up as boys.”

“Now why does that not surprise me, coming from a woman who conquered the stage as a dozen different people?”

“Seriously, Charles. ’Is Grace’s been a friend while you’ve been gone, and I couldn’t bear to think that ’e might—”

“The only person George Villiers is a friend to is himself, Nell. And perhaps, on occasion, the king,
if
he thinks it might get him somewhere.”

“You’d best be careful, Charles Sackville. I may be an actress, but your own mask’s begun to slip,” she declared. “In spite of everythin’, though, the truth is, I’m awfully glad you’re back!”

Nell and Rose arrived at the grand estate, Barne Elmes, early enough to steal together across the soggy grass and into a loose bush large enough to conceal them. The beige coats and hats provided by John Cassells hid them well in places the low-lying fog did not conceal. As the first grand coach pulled down the gravel drive of the estate, Nell’s heart raced. She could not believe that she was actually going to watch this.

Suddenly, all the men were present on the great open close with its thick grass waving. They saw John, who carried messages to the duke and his two seconds. Words were exchanged that they were too distant to hear. One of the horses whinnied, then pawed at the gravel, pulling against its harness. Nell’s eyes shifted from one man to the next. Their rivalry was a palpable thing.

“I wish I knew how to stop this!” she whispered, her voice rising in panic.

“Hush!” her sister bade her. “You know ’Is Majesty would be furious if you were caught ’ere!”

“That Shrewsbury trollop could never be worth this!”

“There’s two men across that field of grass who believe otherwise.”

It happened quickly after that. A series of blades glinting in the morning sunlight as it poked through the clouds and fog. Sharp movements back and forth. A deep cry. A small puncture on Buckingham’s upper arm was the first wound. A stream of blood darkened the sleeve of his white shirt, and Nell felt her mouth go dry.

“Please, no!” she gasped before Rose covered her mouth with her own hand.

The six men were now moving, lunging and darting. There was little grace in it, the way the king had once described. Rather, it seemed a reckless tangle of showmanship and vengeance. Suddenly, more blood. This time it was Will Jenkins, Buckingham’s tall, stately second who took the blade. A wound like a crimson sash darkened across the front of his shirt. He recoiled in response, then sank like a stone onto the wild grass. Before anyone dared go to him, Buckingham seized the distraction and plunged his sword into Shrewsbury’s unprotected side to the sound of a deep-throated gasp.