Virtue and Vice (21 page)

“Well earned, my lord.” Then she grinned. “I too have recently seen my rank elevated. I am now Lady Royston.”

“Good God, I thought your father was never going to let you go, not even for marriage.” He chuckled as he took her hand, tucking it into his arm. “Maitland is a lucky fellow, I hope he realizes that.”

She avoided making any comments about her husband, for she’d been taught it was better to say nothing than to say something disparaging. And the entire court need not know of her marital problems.

“I assume His Majesty is here tonight?” She changed the subject to the matter of most importance.

“Indeed he is. It is his birthday celebration, as I’m sure you know. There is much making of revelry in his honor, as well as the mad celebration over the beheading of that Scots traitor, Argyll, some two days past.” Distaste laced his voice, whether over the Argyll name or the general mention of the Scots, she didn’t know. “I’ll take you to him, Lady Royston.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, for she’d completely forgotten Charles’ birthday. One year ago on this day he’d ridden into London for the first time in nearly a decade to the cheers and applause of his subjects as they welcomed him home, an exiled king returned. She breathed a sigh of relief Clarendon had reminded her. Now she wouldn’t look the total fool when she faced the King.

A couple put themselves directly into her path and she recognized the man right away, but though she searched her brain, she could not place the woman.

“Your Grace,” Izzy murmured, curtsying to George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, even as distaste flared, for this man had been the King’s closest friend once, a foster brother, but he’d left Charles in exile to reclaim his own lands whilst the King still lived in poverty in Holland. Yet the King had received him back into his favor, so how could she appear to do less?

Buckingham quirked a brow. “Have we met?” His eyes focused on her cleavage and she snapped her fan with a flick of her wrist, guarding her flesh from his view.

“Of course, Your Grace. I am Isabelle Beaumont.”

The Duke grinned lasciviously. “So you are. But much grown since last I saw you.”

Clarendon stood stiffly at Izzy’s side. “Permit me to introduce you to Lady Palmer” Izzy looked over the beautiful woman just in time to see the woman taking her measure. Izzy had spent enough of her life amongst courtiers to know Lady Palmer was sizing her up to determine whether she was friend or foe.

Lady Palmer was as dramatically beautiful as rumor held, with a long length of thick sable hair that fell to the middle of her back. Her gown was spectacularly decadent in royal purple, her breasts pushed so high they nearly spilled over her neckline. A beautiful collar of amethyst and diamond adorned her slender neck. It was obvious the woman chose her gown and accessories so that all who looked upon her would know she was high in the King’s favor.

When Lady Palmer had finished her perusal, she turned to Clarendon, smacking him playfully on the arm with her purple fan. Her voice was deep and husky, “La, Edward. You know I’m now Countess Castlemaine.”

So this was the King’s favored mistress!
Beside her, Clarendon sucked in his breath with a hiss, and no wonder! The word was Clarendon and Barbara Palmer hated one another with a vengeance. Poor Hyde, only become an earl after years of hard work, while Barbara was now a countess simply by opening her legs for the King. Izzy knew Courtiers referred to her as Charles’ favorite mistress and that zealous Protestant Londoners referred to her as the King’s whore and did not approve of her, especially since she was lawfully married to Roger Palmer, who no doubt reaped plentiful royal rewards by looking the other way as the King dallied with his wife.

A look of amusement crossed Buckingham’s face. “That’s enough, Cousin, no need to rub it in the man’s face.” Then he turned to her, the look in his eyes telling her if she gave him but the slightest encouragement, he would devour her in a moment. “What brings you to White Hall?”

“I’ve recently been wed, Your Grace. As a married woman I’m exercising my prerogative to become reacquainted with the court.”

He waggled his brows at her. “If you need any help at all, I would be more than willing to help reacquaint you.”

As she searched his handsome face, she had no doubt he would. “Many thanks, Your Grace.” She was grateful to feel the squeeze of Clarendon’s fingers on her arm as he led them away.

“Nest of vipers,” he muttered under his breath and she tried to hide a smile.

***

Izzy spent the next hour reconnecting with old acquaintances and being introduced to new courtiers she’d never met before. The Court was abuzz with rumors of the much anticipated marriage arrangement between Charles and the Portuguese Princess, Catherine of Braganza. Most seemed inclined to dislike the would-be Queen sight-unseen, based solely on her Catholicism, but Izzy decided to reserve judgment until she met the woman. After all, she
had
spent most of her exile in France surrounded by royal Catholics at the court of King Louis, and those Catholics included King Charles’ own mother, Henrietta Maria. And it was no secret the King’s brother James secretly leaned Catholic. The King himself was very tolerant of those of the Catholic persuasion, which caused dismay and even alarm by staunch Protestants, whose greatest fear was to see England cast back into the dark days of ‘Popery’. More dismaying, in their somewhat closed minds, Charles’ had yet to sire an heir to the throne, and this left his Catholic brother as his heir, for the moment, and to many a fate worse than death.

When she finally found herself before her monarch, she sank to the ground in a low curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she breathed.

“Isabelle Beaumont!” he said with gruff, genuine affection, quickly pulling her up upright and holding her an arm’s length a way as his gaze traveled to her feet and back to her face. “Look how you’ve grown.” Before she could say anything, he pulled her into his arms for a crushing hug. When he released her Lady Castelmaine was glaring fiercely in their direction. As if Izzy could ever be a threat to Barbara Palmer’s position with the King!

“Come, walk with me.” The King tucked Izzy’s hand into the crook of his jewel bedecked doublet and led her out a side door, into the magnificent privy gardens of White Hall. She studied him as they walked. He’d always been a handsome man. At a few inches over six feet tall, he towered over most men. With his raven hair and olive complexion, a throwback to his Italian Medici blood, he had the swarthy look of a pirate. Being King suited him well. Even so, the long years of exile and the losses in his family showed markedly in the deep lines etched in his face, though he was only in his early thirties. It had been a hard and painful road to become King.

“What has brought you here, my sweet?”

“Of course I wanted only to personally wish you Happy Birthday, Sire.” She lied sweetly.

“What has taken so long for you to come to court? And where is your father, and that beautiful mother of yours?”

“Papa wanted to spend some time in Cornwall, to make sure the estate is recovering from the years of neglect.”

The King sighed. “Your family sacrificed so much, little one. If ever there is anything I may do for you, you need only ask.”

“Actually, Sire…”

He placed his fingers over her lips. “But not tonight. This evening is a night for celebration. Come to me tomorrow evening in the Presence Chamber, and we can talk about whatever your heart desires.” With that statement, he changed the subject. “Tell me, has your father yet betrothed you?”

Her mind spun. She’d achieved her goal, the King would meet with her, she need only be patient for only a bit longer! Now she could relax and enjoy her evening. Laughter bubbled up inside. “Ah, Your Majesty, he’s done more than that. I am a married woman now.”

Charles stopped walking and his shrewd gaze studied her face. “And who was deemed worthy enough to receive your hand? Especially without my approval? Your father knew I wished to have you for my own,” he teased.

“Why, Your Majesty, are you saying you aspired to make me your queen?”

He squeezed her hand. “Indeed, if I thought for even a moment you wished for a crown, but I know you better than that.”

“Indeed, you do know me well, Majesty.”

“So, who is this man who has eternally earned my envy and enmity?”

She had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, and smiled. “Lord Royston.” She said the name with no small amount of trepidation. Though she thought Ram loyal to the King, Ram had not actually verified such information for her. So relief swept her when Charles’ face cleared and he laughed. “Splendid! Ramsay Maitland is a good man. And most importantly, his family has much wealth, which I know your father is in dire need of.”

It took quite an effort not to let the statement get under her skin. Marriages were created for the gain of the parties involved, but she’d rather the world not think she’d been traded away by her father for money.

Charles wagged his raven brows at her suggestively, bringing her attention back to him. “And now you are a married woman, you are most welcome at my court. I do not debauch young innocents, but beautiful married ladies are a favorite pastime of mine.” He winked.

“Your Majesty!” She chided with a laugh, though inside she was a little shocked. But he spoke the truth. Roger Palmer certainly looked the other way while his wife Barbara dallied with the King. “You’ve known me since I was but a child.”

“Aye, that I have. And I always said you would grow to become a breathtaking woman. And I am always right in these things.” He looked thoughtful. “Though having tended your scraped knees, seduction might prove more difficult. But never let it be said that I am not a man ‘up’ to the task, especially where a beautiful woman is concerned.”

Her cheeks heated as she immediately recognized his ribald joke, and she brought her fan up to cover the evidence. The King threw back his head and laughed. “’Oddsfish, Isabelle, your new husband hasn’t served you very well in your boudoir if you still blush at such innocent innuendo!”

He took her arm, leading her back toward the door to the Banqueting House. “If I remember, you had quite a fondness for climbing into my lap and dictating to me how I ought to fight my campaign,” he grinned, and so did Izzy. “You should know the Royal Lap is always available to you, should you so feel the need to continue that habit,” he said with an expansive wave of his hand.

Was he joking? He had a reputation as a ladies’ man, and what woman wouldn’t find a king as handsome as Charles appealing? He already had one royal bastard whom he’d acknowledged, and if gossip served correctly, Barbara Palmer had recently given birth to another.

For the first time, she felt out of her depth at Court. The King has always represented safety to her, but she was married now, so the courtiers would assume she was no longer innocent and would no longer take pains to hide from her the realities that occurred day to day at White Hall. But in actuality, there was so much she didn’t know.

She wished Ram were at her side, helping her navigate these precarious waters. Yet the thought made no sense, since she was here to secure an annulment from him.

Pushing thoughts of her blessedly absent husband out of her mind, she smiled at the King as he gallantly ushered her inside ahead of him.

Chapter 18

The next morning, Izzy hugged her pillow in happy abandon, gloating over her success of the previous evening. One night at White Hall and she’d secured herself a private audience with the King. And in the light of day, his flirtation seemed nothing more than that; playful bantering. Now all she had to do was find something to do to fill the long hours of the day, until it was time to dress for the evening. And ignore the apprehension brought about by the certainty that Ram would discover where she’d fled and arrive very soon.

She took a supply of coins from Ram’s desk, summoned Meg to accompany her, and went out during the afternoon. Her diamond and sapphire necklace wouldn’t match her green gown, so she had need of jewels. Or at least some glass baubles that could pass for jewels. Her sense of fair play wouldn’t allow her to spend hundreds of pounds of Ram’s money on real gems when she had every intention of ending their marriage before long, even if he could so easily afford it.

A window display for a shop selling accessories for the fashionable lady caught her attention and drew her within. Delighted to find glass and paste pieces jewelry, Izzy was also enthralled by the various wigs, masks, and makeup on display. Bubbling with mischief, Izzy picked out a mask with feathers colored the most outrageous shade of pink, and, after pretending to admire it, slipped it on. She turned to Meg.

“What do you think? ‘Tis incredible, isn’t it?”

Meg’s eyes widened and her mouth opened, then closed, then opened once more. “I ain’t never seen anything like it, my lady.”

Izzy broke into giggles and removed the mask. “What a politic answer, Meg! I would have said it was downright ghastly. Although,” Izzy stared at the bright pink feathers. “If I wore this, Hawthorne could never again put me in the ladies’ receiving room at Chesworth. I’d clash with the entire room!”

Meg clamped a hand across her mouth, but her surprised giggle escaped, and suddenly the two of them were laughing so hard they had to lean on one another for support or risk falling to the floor.

Izzy recovered her decorum when she saw that the shopkeeper wasn’t amused. Wiping a tear of mirth away, she moved on to the face paints. At White Halls some of the women had worn so much of the stuff, it had detracted from their looks rather than added anything. Izzy chose only some black kohl for her eyes and a bit of rouge for her lips.

Mollified by her selection, the shopkeeper was more than happy to show Izzy a selection of beauty patches. Izzy made her choice, then moved on to the jewelry.

As soon as she selected a lovely necklace with matching pair of earrings made of green glass very much resembling emeralds, the sky outside the window went dark and rain began to fall. Her day of shopping now cut short by the summer deluge, Izzy clutched her purchases close as she and Meg made a mad dash for the street and clambered into the carriage. They sat in silence as it made its way through the soggy streets of London, back to Ram’s house. Her disappointment was keen, for meandering through the streets and vendors had helped keep her mind off thoughts of Ram’s certain fury.

After a light nap in the afternoon, she once again called for Meg and readied herself to return to White Hall. Just putting on her newly transformed gown imbued her with confidence, as she surveyed the results in the mirror. Meg had pulled her hair into an elaborate coif, dressing her curls to hang over her ears with some perfectly placed locks lying against her forehead. The faux emerald necklace and earbobs glittered against the green of the gown and the cream color of her petticoat. The changes Madame Papille’s assistants had wrought were incredible, Izzy would never have recognized it as the same one she wore when she’d left home just two days prior. Izzy applied the kohl and rouge sparingly, then placed one beauty patch shaped like the sun on her right temple, to emphasize the slant of her eyes, and a patch shaped like the moon upon her cleavage, where it was sure to draw the eye. She needed every advantage she could gain to win her heart’s desire this eve.

Once again she took the Royston carriage to White Hall, filled with more confidence this night than the last. On the way, she rehearsed what she would say to the King over and over in her head. She had to phrase it just right, in such a way he might feel sympathy for her plight, allow his chivalry to override any affection or loyalty for Ram he might have. If there was one thing King Charles II had in spades, it was tender feelings for the fairer sex.

She alighted from the coach and entered the palace, climbing the stairs to the presence chamber, where she waited patiently to be announced. The first person to place himself in her path was Sir Anthony Ashley Cooper. She gave him a smile as he kissed her hand. “Sir Anthony, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He was another who had switched sides numerous times throughout the civil wars.

“It’s Baron Ashley now, m’dear.”

“Congratulations are in order then, my Lord Ashley.”
The King has been very busy indeed!
Was there a single man who hadn’t risen in rank since the restoration?

All thoughts of the dark haired, dark eyed Lord Ashley flew from her mind as her gaze locked on the man bearing down on her.

His golden hair hung long to his shoulders. He wore breeches and a doublet in the brightest shade of red she had ever seen, complete with a black hat on his head that contained a feather, dyed the same scarlet shade as the doublet that encased his broad shoulders. She swallowed hard. In all this time, nothing had changed. He was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

“Excuse me, my lord.” She murmured to Ashley. If he replied, she never heard it. She stood, rooted to the spot, until Sir Paul Huntley was upon her, reaching for her hands as he came within touching distance.

“Izzy!” He exclaimed, squeezing her fingers. “How lovely you look tonight!”

A hundred questions charged through her mind as she stared into the face of the man she loved.
Where have you been? Why haven’t you come for me? Why could you have not arrived one week earlier?

But try as she might, she couldn’t form the questions. “Paul.” She managed to whisper, in a voice that came out husky and low.

His eyes kindled.

“Come out to the garden, Izzy, where we might be private. It’s been such a long time.”

She nodded, dumbstruck, and let him lead her outside. Thoughts of seeing the King fled her mind and all she could focus on was that her beloved had returned, and she was married to another man. Could he ever forgive her? How would she ever be able to tell him?

He led her to a darkened corner, seeking privacy, but they were the only ones who’d ventured outside. He took her hands, pulling them both against his chest.

“How are you, love? How are your parents and your brothers?”

“I-I am well. My family is well too. Papa’s has regained his estates.”

His smile was wide. “You see,
ma petite?
I always told you Charles would be restored and all would be well.”

“Aye. You did.” She ached to ask why he’d stayed away so long, but couldn’t force the words through her constricted throat. All she could do was stare into his beautiful eyes.

“Izzy.” His voice grew husky, his gazed dropped to her lips. “You’ve grown even more beautiful since last I saw you, something I did not think possible.”

She knew with a woman’s instinct he was about to kiss her, yet there was nothing she could do to stop him. It was wrong, yes, and she hadn’t told him she was married, but she’d yearned for this man for so many long, lonely years.

His right hand slipped around her neck and his left arm swooped around her waist, pulling her flush against his lean body. His mouth came down on hers, devouring, and she stood on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his neck to kiss him back. She waited for the rush of sensation to overtake her as it did when Ram kissed her, but curiously, there was…nothing. Only slight pleasure as his lips caressed hers. No streaks of heat shot through her body when his tongue slid against hers. Her knees didn’t weaken.
Why?
Was it possible Ram ruined her for all other men?

When Paul pulled back, a smile played about his lips. “You have not waited for me, Isabelle. I can tell by the nature of your kisses.”

Heat spread across her face. Yet at the same time, anger built, emanating from deep within her. “I never realized I’d be waiting three years, Paul.”

He cupped her cheek. “You are angry with me.” It was a statement, not a question. “You know I would rather die than ever cause you pain.” His fingers brushed her cheekbone in a caress filled with tenderness.

“If you don’t remove your hands from my
wife
this very second, you
will
die.”

Izzy gasped, jumping away from Paul as Ram’s voice invaded the private world she shared with Paul in the garden.
Had he witnessed their embrace?
One glance at her husband’s face told her everything she needed to know. His fury was a palpable thing; the air about him almost throbbed with it.

Her pulse ricocheted in her veins. Why did Ram always have to catch her at the worst moment?

Paul seemed unperturbed. He straightened slowly before turning to face the bristling man behind him. “Royston.” He nodded his head in Ram’s direction, then looked back to her. “So you are now a married woman?”

Izzy looked into his eyes, hoping she could convey to him her sorrow and regret, yet he asked the question with only a mild curiosity that confused her. And of course now Ram knew she hadn’t told Paul of her marriage.

Everything was such a mess.

Ram was at her side in two long strides, sliding his powerful arm about her waist. “We are newly wed, Huntley.”

“Many felicitations to you, then.”

Izzy suppressed the need to scream with impotent frustration. Why was her life playing out as an enormous comedy of errors? She looked from one man to the other, taking the measure of each. The two men couldn’t be more different, with Paul’s golden beauty beside Ram’s dangerous darkness. Both men wore shades of red, though Ram wore black breeches with a deep wine colored doublet over his black tunic. A simple black feather adorned his cap. It crossed her mind that that Paul, in his scarlet apparel, looked like a court jester standing next to Ram, and she gasped at the uncharitable notion.

“Come love, it’s time we retire for the night.” Ram nuzzled her ear, and as furious as he must be with her, of course his only intent was to antagonize Paul, but she held still. If she showed any distaste in front of Paul, she had no doubt she would suffer for it later.

“’Tis still so early, my lord. May we stay a while longer?” She lowered her lashes and peered at her husband, trying for demure.

It didn’t work. Nor was she particularly surprised.

“Nay. I’ve had a long day and I seek only our bed.”

She bristled, but held her tongue. Again, Ram spoke with the sole intent of claiming her as his before the man who stood watching them.

She couldn’t leave yet! Paul needed to know everything that had happened. And Izzy burned with the need to discover where he’d been, to find out why he never came for her as promised. And she had yet to see the king.

But it would not be tonight. Tonight there was a reckoning coming.

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Paul.” She risked saying with a quick glance at Ram, noting the tightened muscle in his cheek.

“And I, you, Izzy. Good evening.”

Paul went back inside. The only sound on the terrace was that of her harsh breathing.

“Ram”-

“Not a word, Isabelle. We’re leaving.” His voice rang with warning. Now was not the time to push him.

His hand assumed its regular place wrapped around her upper arm as he led her from the terrace.

***

Ram could feel Izzy trembling beneath his hand.
Good.
She should be afraid of what he might do. She’d led him on a merry chase, and then to top it all off, he’d tracked her to White Hall, only to find her alone on a terrace being pawed by an ex-lover. And not just any ex-lover, but one she claimed to be in love with!

He steered her through the throngs of courtiers, managing to sidestep all invitations thrown their way, and every attempt to draw him into conversation. No doubt Izzy thought they were leaving, but he led her through the meandering, warren-like red-bricked hallways of the palace instead, until he reached a suite of rooms. Unlocking the door, he pushed her inside, then turned to relock it.

“You have rooms here?” Her voice trembled.

After his mad dash from Wales back to Cornwall, he’d rested for a few hours and then left again for London. He’d then proceeded to travel to every place she might conceivably be. He’d visited her father’s townhome, surprised not to find her there. He’d come to White Hall earlier in the afternoon, positive that was where she’d be, then grew concerned to find she’d never made use of his personal chambers, nor had the chamberlain plenish a chamber for herself. Stymied about her whereabouts, he’d gone to his townhome in Bishopsgate to rest and think.

When Dexter met him at the door, Ram thought he was hearing things when the butler said, “Welcome home, my lord. My lady will be thrilled to find you’ve finally arrived.”