Virginia Henley (13 page)

When they disembarked it was an easy matter to follow the fashionable pair along Thames Street. A crowd was gathering at the
Bull and Bear Inn,
and Patrick concluded that since it was Wednesday afternoon, they were likely there to attend a play.

When he spotted the two exquisitely dressed females wearing vizards waiting outside the inn, he was not the least surprised. He lengthened his stride and closed the distance between himself and the two couples in less than a minute.

Feigning surprise, Patrick bowed gallantly. “Lady Arbella, this is an unexpected pleasure. If I’d known you enjoyed the play, I would have offered to escort you.” He made a point of ignoring Catherine, who stood fuming behind her mask.

“Lord Stewart!” Arbella lowered her vizard and deliberately tried to provoke her escort’s jealousy. “Allow me to present William Seymour. Will, this is Patrick Hepburn, a Stewart kins-man of mine. I’m sure you noticed him at Court on Saturday evening. His great height set him apart from the other gentlemen.”

Seymour narrowed his hazel eyes and stared up at the man he suddenly suspected of being his rival. “How do you do, Hepburn? You are Scottish, I believe.”

Somerset curled his lip. “If I’m not mistaken, your father was Bothwell.”

Patrick smiled. “He still
is
the Earl of Bothwell.”

Cat lowered her mask and drawled with insolence, “Hal, don’t impugn the name of Bothwell; the barbarian Scot carries a knife.”

“Lady Catherine knows my secret,” Patrick said with a wolfish grin, “but then, I know hers.” He watched with satisfaction as the golden fire flashed in her eyes. “Enjoy the play, ladies.”

As he made his way back to his ship, Hepburn decided to learn all he could about the handsome courtier with the golden beard.

All he knew at the moment was that Henry Somerset was heir to the earldom of Worcester, but he decided to find out which games of chance he favored and how often he got drunk. Before he was done with foppish Hal, Patrick would know everything, from the names of his favorite whores to the size of his balls.

In the upstairs chamber of the Bull and Bear the two young men were asking pointed questions about the tall, dark Scot. Both courtiers felt threatened by the man’s size, confidence and devilish looks. Moreover, he had an overt maleness that both recognized as dangerous, especially where women were concerned.

Arbella was using the encounter to fan Seymour’s jealousy. “Patrick Hepburn is a Scottish Border lord. He and I are both related to King James,” she explained to the suddenly proprietary Seymour. “There is nothing between us, Will.”

“He could be on the prowl for a wealthy English heiress.” Fear that the Scot might snatch the marriage prize from him made Seymour’s stomach roil.

Cat was furious that Lord Bloody Stewart had caught her where she was not supposed to be. What on earth would she do if he told her mother? “No English lady could stomach the uncivilized brute, let alone give him her hand in marriage.”

William Seymour slid a possessive arm about Arbella and whispered, “I love you, Bella.”

“Ah, my lord, I warrant you say that to all the ladies.”

“Of course I don’t, Bella. I’ve been thinking about buying you a ring.” He swallowed hard. “A betrothal ring.”

“Will!” Arbella gushed. “Can we go and buy it now?”

Like a rat in a trap he turned helplessly to his friend.

Somerset rushed to his aid. “William, here is that money I owe you.” He murmured softly, “Strike while the iron is hot!”

“This is so exciting!” Cat said breathlessly, caught up in the recklessness of the moment. “It will have to be kept secret.”

Bella picked up her mask. “Don’t wait for me; I shall find my own way back to Whitehall.”

“I shall see that Catherine gets safely back to the palace,” Somerset said smoothly, “after we enjoy the play.”

 

Arbella Stuart was walking on air. She had waited what seemed like years and years for a proposal of marriage. Her grandmother had tried to arrange a match between her and Henry Percy, the powerful Earl of Northumberland, but he had snubbed her and wed Essex’s sister instead. Finally, now that she had given in to Seymour’s sexual demands and made him mad with jealousy over Patrick Hepburn, William was going to make her his wife.

Arbella led the way to the Exchange in the Strand with its double gallery of shops that offered everything from Russian furs to Chinese silk. She took her bridegroom’s hand and propelled him into the Venetian Jewelers. Seymour, who seemed to be in a daze, allowed her to choose her own wedding ring.

By the time they left the shop, Arbella was in a most generous mood. “I want to buy
you
a present, Will. Oh, just look at those swords. Go inside and look at them, I’m sure there is one that will strike your fancy. I have to pop next door and I’ll be right back.” Bella hurried to the shop that sold hair products. She needed to buy a saffron wash to brighten her blond tresses.

Liz Widdrington, who had just purchased a pair of tortoise-shell combs, immediately recognized the Stuart girl. “Lady Arbella, how lovely to see you! I am having such a wonderful time today. Your London shops are filled with treasures.”

“Lady Widdrington—Liz! Are you shopping for your trousseau?”

“I am indeed. There are so many things a bride needs.”

“I, too, will soon be a bride!” She showed off her ring. “It’s a secret, Liz. You mustn’t tell anyone.”

“I wish you every happiness, Bella. Who is the lucky groom?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you. It truly is a secret. I must run.”

She hurried back to the sword shop and saw that her dearest William had chosen an Italian dagger with a jeweled hilt. She was happy to see that his face had regained most of its color.

“Henry will be pea green with envy when he sees this, Bella!”

When Patrick arrived back at the
Hepburn Rose
he opened an invitation from Robert Carey’s sister Kate, who was married to the Admiral of England, Lord Charles Howard. He was invited to dine at Arundel House in the Strand, which was the Howards’ official residence. When he arrived the following evening, he saw that the intimate dinner included just six people. His dinner partner was Kate’s sister Philadelphia, and the other invited couple was Robert Carey and his bride-to-be, Liz Widdrington.

The dinner was to celebrate the upcoming wedding and give the family’s stamp of approval in spite of any objections the aging queen might have. As well as giving Patrick and Charles Howard a chance to meet, it also allowed Patrick and Robert to make plans for a visit to Hertford. Hepburn knew the ride there and back would let them discuss in private their meeting with Cecil.

“Patrick raises horses and has expressed an interest in visiting Hunsdon Grange before he sails back to Scotland. I thought we’d ride up tomorrow since Liz will be busy all day being fitted for her wedding gown.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting your brother John.”

“You’ll like John. He’s an avid horseman,” Robert declared.

“His wife, Mary, prefers Hertford to the Court,” Philadelphia told Patrick. “She’s a saint to live with her husband year round.”

“If he’s a Carey, he cannot be a difficult man,” Patrick said.

“True,” Philadelphia agreed with amusement, “while my husband, Scrope, has a volatile personality. The only thing we have in common is a weakness for gambling.”

“I hear that gambling is a nightly pastime at Court, once the queen has retired.” Patrick discerned that Philadelphia would be able to tell him if Henry Somerset had gambling debts. Within minutes he learned that both Somerset and his friend Seymour owed thousands. Philadelphia added, however, that since both courtiers were heirs to wealthy earldoms, their debts were of little consequence.

“Are you pledged in marriage, Patrick?” Philadelphia asked.

“Not yet, my lady. Do you have someone in mind for me?”

“My sister’s a determined matchmaker. Watch out,” Kate warned.

“Well, I must admit I had young Catherine Spencer in mind, but the pair of you are like cat and dog with raised hackles. Your physical disparity
is
rather marked, but opposites
do
attract.”

“Philadelphia has matched our little Catherine with every titled young man at Court. She does it just to annoy Isobel.”

“It amuses me to annoy Isobel. She’s so terrified of offending Elizabeth, I swear she’d prefer that Catherine remain unwed.”

“I’d wager there’s little chance of that,” Patrick declared.

“When you visit Hertford tomorrow, take a look at the Spencer estate. Their longhorn cattle are unique,” Philadelphia urged. “When Catherine comes of age next March and needs neither Isobel’s nor the queen’s permission to marry, she’ll be snapped up like an iridescent little trout fly. Cat is a man’s woman!”

Cat is this man’s woman,
Hepburn decided,
if the Spencer estate turns out to be as impressive as I’ve been led to believe.

 

On the ride to Hertford, Patrick and Robert thoroughly discussed their meeting with Cecil and declared it a success. “I fully expect him to contact you and entrust you with a letter.”

“King James would be pleased if Cecil wrote to him,” Robert said. “I think it best if I travel back with Liz in her coach.”

“I agree. You can hardly expect your bride to travel alone.”

When the pair arrived at Hunsdon Grange, John Carey ran his hand along Valiant’s flank as he assessed the horse with the eye of a connoisseur. “You’re certain he’s not a Thoroughbred?”

Patrick laughed and shook his head. “I bred him myself from my father’s Thoroughbred, Valentine, but his dam was a wild mare.”

“His bloodlines are magnificent. D’you mind if I put him with a couple of my one-year-old fillies while you’re here? Nothing might come of it, but there’s always a chance he’ll be tempted.”

Patrick liked John Carey as much as he liked Robert. He had the same coloring but was shorter and broader than his brother. Patrick envied him Hunsdon Horse Grange and admitted that he’d never seen more lush pastures than in Hertfordshire. The climate produced such a long growing season that the fields yielded two crops of hay each summer, a feat impossible in Scotland.

John’s wife, Mary, welcomed them to the noontime meal, which she had cooked herself. She was happy to see her husband’s brother Robert, the baby of the family, and overjoyed to learn that he was soon to be married. She had a hundred questions about his bride.

“If Liz and I are half as happy as you and John, I shall consider myself a lucky man, Mary,” Robert said sincerely.

As Patrick looked at their handsome, healthy children sitting at the table with them, he too began to long for such a marriage. Later, when he mentioned that he would like to see the Spencer estate, known as Spencer Park, John offered to accompany them.

“Now, there’s a landholding! It was a tragedy that John Spencer died without a son to inherit. If I had a son anywhere near old enough to marry, I’d try to make a match for him with the Spencer heiress. Finest two thousand acres in England!”

Spencer Park was only five miles from Hunsdon Grange. When Patrick saw the lush acres with the lovely river Lea running through the property, he experienced a strange sense of destiny, as if he were coming home. John introduced him to Mr. Burke, the head steward, who took great pride in the Spencer longhorns.

“I am familiar with the breed, Mr. Burke. The Earl of Winton, Lady Spencer’s father, is a neighbor of mine in Scotland. I just visited him the first week of May. He would envy you your verdant pastures and mild climate.”

“I sincerely hope you will give him a good report of Spencer Park, Lord Stewart. We keep up with all the agricultural improvements. Did you know that we supply the Queen’s Court with three hundred pounds of freshly churned butter each and every week?” Mr. Burke said proudly. “The home farm across the river is planted with rye and barley. Perhaps next year we will put in hops.”

On the ride back to London, Patrick began to anticipate the day when Spencer Park would be his. Add a herd of fine horses and he knew it would be the closest to paradise that he would ever get.

Robert interrupted his musings. “By the way, Liz told me she ran into your kinswoman Arbella in the Strand Exchange on Wednesday. She was showing off a ring and told Liz that though it was a secret, she too was about to become a bride.”

Chapter Eight

W
hen Patrick arrived back aboard his ship, he summoned Ian Hepburn, the steward he had brought to buy cargo for the return voyage, and the pair made their way to Whitehall. As Patrick suspected he would, he spotted William Seymour playing primero in one of the crowded gaming rooms. He pointed out the young dandy to Ian.