Читать книгу Vixens - Bertrice Small - Страница 11

Chapter 3

The king sprawled on his carved upholstered throne, looking out over the reception hall at the entering guests. Both his breeches and coat were violet velvet. His cream-colored silk stockings were embroidered in gold sprays of flowers, and his garters were large cloth-of-gold rosettes with diamond centers. He had matching rosettes on his shoes. Next to him sat his queen, Catherine of Braganza, a Portuguese lady of sweet disposition, but no great beauty to Charles Stuart’s eye. Still, she was a pleasant companion when he chose her company, her only fault being her inability to give him a legitimate heir. And the fault was obviously hers, for he had sired any number of bastards on ladies highborn and low. Poor Catherine, however, could not seem to conceive. Once or twice there had been a small ray of hope, but it had come to naught. His wife was barren. He might have divorced her and remarried. All Europe knew he had just cause, but Catherine of Braganza suited Charles Stuart with her gentle and docile personality. Another wife might not have been as thoughtful of his amoral habits as Catherine. Besides he had an heir in his brother, James, the duke of York, who already had two legitimate heirs.

The king’s attention was suddenly attracted by a flash of brilliant turquoise blue. He focused his gaze. There was his cousin Charlie just now entering the room with his family. He escorted a lady on each arm: his elegant mother, the dowager duchess of Glenkirk, and his equally graceful wife, Barbara. They were followed by a trio of young girls. It was among these three the king had spotted the bright color. He recognized the girl in the scarlet gown as Charlie’s daughter. The girl in the dusky rose as the Glenkirk lass. Therefore, the young woman in the turquoise velvet and silver lace had to be the gossiped-about Mistress Frances Devers.

“I see the duke of Lundy,” the queen murmured to him. “I recognize all but one of his party. Do you know who the lady in blue is my lord?”

“It is his niece from the Colonies, Mistress Devers,” the king murmured back. What a beauty, he thought. She was very much like her two cousins, and yet different.

“The murderess?” The queen was shocked. “The duke presumes upon your good nature my lord.”

“Nay, my dear, I have already spoken to Charlie regarding Mistress Devers. While the details regarding this young woman’s tragedy remain hidden from all but those involved, no charges were ever brought against her. You can be certain, however, that the dowager Jasmine would not have accepted this girl into her care had there been anything dishonest about her. Do you notice how she resembles her cousins? They certainly present a most charming picture, do they not?”

“But Lady Tolliver said . . .” the queen began, only growing quiet again when her husband raised his hand to silence her.

“Charlie assures me that the Tollivers were not guests at the wedding of Mistress Devers, nor were they personally known to either family. They have simply repeated the gossip that they heard while visiting their daughter in Williamsburg. I have already sent someone to speak with them about it, and I have given them a choice. Either they quell their rumormongering tongues, or they leave court. I should have sent them away myself, but that would only give rise to greater rumor.” The king patted his wife’s hand. “You will, of course, make your own decision, my dear, after you have met Mistress Devers. And I hope that you will share your thoughts with me on the topic. You know how much I value your good judgment in such matters.”

The queen colored, and the pink in her pale cheeks actually made her look very pretty briefly. “She doesn’t really look very dangerous from a distance, Charles,” the queen said softly.

The king laughed. “No,” he agreed, “she doesn’t.” But she does have the most kissable mouth, he thought, his dark eyes narrowing speculatively. Were they related? No. Her mother had been a Lindley. Her father the son of some minor Irish lordling. Yet she was his cousin’s niece. But a widow and no virgin. Her beauty attracted him, but he had reached an age where he wanted more than beauty in a lover.

“My lord, they come this way,” the queen interrupted his musings.

The not-so-royal Stuart had seen the contemplative look in his royal cousin’s eye. He recognized it from his long acquaintance with his relation. The look would not have been for his daughter, or for sweet Diana. God’s blood, he swore silently. Then he pushed the suspicions from his thoughts. Of course, the king would be curious about Fancy given the scandal surrounding her. It was only curiosity. The king already had a delightful new mistress. Reaching the foot of the throne, the duke of Lundy bowed low saying as he did, “My liege.” He then took the queen’s dainty hand in his, and kissed it. “My lady.”

The king stood up with a welcoming smile. “Cousin!” he exclaimed as if he were seeing Charlie for the first time in many months. “We welcome you back to court.” The king was very elegant tonight in his suit of violet velvet. The buttons on his long coat, which ran from his neckline to his thighs, were diamonds set in delicate gold frames. The lace at his throat, and cascading from his cuffs, was gold. His dark curls were lavish and fell about his broad shoulders. Even as he stepped down from his dais, he was an extremely tall man. He took Jasmine’s hand in his and kissed it. “Ahh, madame,” he said in smoky tones. “If I were but ten years older.” His look was smoldering.

Jasmine laughed heartily. “And I sixty years younger, Your Majesty,” she told him, “but you do still have the power to charm this ancient heart of mine, for I have always had a weakness for the Royal Stuarts, as this ducal son of mine will give evidence.”

The king chuckled. “You have not lost your edge, madame,” he told her admiringly. Then he turned to the duchess of Lundy. “My favorite Barbara,” he said, kissing her hand with a smile.

“Majesty, surely there is another lady who may lay claim to that title,” the duchess of Lundy quickly protested.

“No longer,” the king answered her casually so that those standing nearby were certain to hear. “Dark green favors you, madame,” the king noted. He next addressed Cynara, “Welcome back to court, my lovely young cousin. And to you also, sweet Siren,” he said to Diana. “But here is a lady I have not met amongst you.” The black eyes turned themselves upon Fancy.

“My niece, Mistress Frances Devers, from the Colonies, Sire,” Charlie said, making the introduction. “But she is called Fancy by those who know and love her. I do not know if Your Majesty ever met my sister Fortune. Fancy is her youngest child.”

The king took Fancy’s hand in both of his. “My dear Fancy,” he began. “May I welcome you home to England?” He then kissed the delicate hand in his, but he did not let it go. “Come, my dear, and let me introduce you to the queen.”

For a moment Fancy wasn’t certain she was breathing. Cynara had said the king had charm, and he surely did. Remembering her manners she curtsied, saying breathlessly, “Your Majesty is so kind, and I thank you.” Then as he brought her before the queen and made the introduction Fancy again curtsied low. “I am honored to be brought before Your Majesty,” she said. “I never thought to meet my queen.” She smiled shyly.

Why the poor child, the queen thought. She is even farther from all she loves than I am. She held out a beringed hand to Fancy, who immediately took the hand up, and kissed it. “We are pleased to welcome you to England and to our court, Mistress Devers,” the queen said graciously, then she continued daringly, “We hope the sadness of the past few months may be wiped away by the good company of your family and of this merry court. You will be welcome in my chambers, Mistress Devers.”

Fancy was stunned. She wasn’t quite certain what the queen had meant, but she was intelligent enough to realize she had the royal approval. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said. “Your kindness is almost more than I can bear.” Tears shone in her eyes.

“And you have my favor as well,” the king murmured low, kissing her hand a final time before releasing it.

Across the room Barbara Villiers, Lady Castlemaine, watched, her look sour. “He already plans her seduction,” she hissed to the gentleman at her side.

“My dear cousin,” the duke of Buckingham answered her, “you could not expect to keep his affections forever. You have had him longer than any so far. You have gained riches and position for all your children. What more can you want? You will never be queen, Barbara. Even you must realize that by now.”

“He has taken to slumming lately,” Barbara Villiers muttered. “First, that guttersnipe of an actress, and now this cow-eyed little colonial.”

George Villiers, duke of Buckingham, laughed at her pique. “Nell Gwyn is most amusing, Barbara,” he said, “but as for Charlie’s niece she is only newly arrived, and scandal surrounds her. The king is merely curious. Nothing more. But, if he were more than curious, it would not be your concern, dear cousin. Not any longer. You must accept the facts, Barbara. The king is finished with you.”

“He seeks younger women to convince himself that he is yet young,” the lady Castlemaine said. “And I am now twenty-six.”

“It is true you are not in the first flush of your youth any longer,” her cousin replied, “but you are still a fine figure of a woman, Barbara. You could possibly have yourself a rich husband if you wished.”

“I do not need a husband,” she snapped. “What the hell would I want a husband for, George? I had a royal lover, and any other lover I take will not only pale in comparison to the king, but will certainly be my social inferior as well. How can I be another man’s mistress after having been the king’s? The bastard has ruined me for anyone else! I hate him for it!”

“You do not have to be any man’s mistress, Barbara. Take charge of your life. Take lovers, many and varied. Then no man can say you are his alone, and that he now possesses His Majesty’s leavings.”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Her voice was now raised and sharp. Those standing near her and the duke turned.

“Hush, sweet cousin,” he soothed her. “You do not want to attract the attention of the court gossips now, do you? God forbid that anyone should feel pity for you, Barbara.”

“You can be such a brute, George,” she said low, and her gaze went back across the room where the king was now staring after his cousin and the women with the duke of Lundy. “’Odsblood, George! Will you look at that little colonial’s jewelry. I am certain that it all belongs to her grandmother. The old dowager has always had the most fantastic collection of jewels. I remember seeing her once when I was a very little child. She had rubies the size of robin’s eggs. I wonder who will inherit all her wealth.”

“Her family tends to keep their wealth to themselves,” the duke of Buckingham said in answer to his cousin’s questions.

“ ’Twill be several lucky young men who wed those girls,” Lady Castlemaine remarked astutely, watching as the objects of her interest withdrew from the royal presence.

“Did you see the way he looked at you,” Cynara whispered to Fancy. “When you curtsied his eyes plunged so deep into your neckline that I thought he would not be able to raise them up again.”

“I will admit to having felt the heat of his glance,” Fancy said. “He is not a handsome man, yet there is something about him that is most fascinating. His eyes mesmerize you when he looks at you, yet I sense a kindness in him as well,” she noted.

“They say he is very good to his women,” Cynara continued.

“And he is a great lover,” Fancy teased her cousin, “although how a respectable little virgin would know such a fact is a mystery to me, Cyn.” She mischievously tweaked one of Cynara’s sable curls.

“There is always a certain amount of truth in gossip, and I love good gossip,” Cynara said with a grin. “Besides he has several . . . bastards, sons and daughters. He has recognized them all, and provided for them as well. The women he has loved adore him, except perhaps for my lady Castlemaine, who is now discarded in favor of an actress.”

“Gracious!” Fancy laughed. “Where do you learn all of this?”

Cynara chuckled. “I listen,” she said simply. Then she sighed. “ ’Odsfish! Diana is already surrounded by gentlemen. Do you wonder they call her Siren? There is little difference between the three of us, and yet they flock to her like bees to honey. I do not understand it, Fancy. What is it she has that we do not?”

“Well,” Fancy said thoughtfully, “you, I suspect, are noted for your pride and your sharp tongue. I am surrounded by scandal. I am an unknown quantity. Our sweet cousin on the other hand is noted for her engaging ways and dulcet disposition.”

“But I am a Stuart!” Cynara protested.

“And therefore less approachable,” Fancy responded.

“Then what good is having a beautiful wardrobe and Grandmama’s wonderful jewels if no one will pay attention to me,” Cynara wailed.

“They will pay attention to us both soon enough,” Fancy said. “We are all beautiful and all rich. Qualities gentlemen find most desirable in marriageable women I have been told.” Her tone was suddenly bitter. “Be careful in this courting game, Cyn,” she advised her cousin. “Be careful, and do not believe anything a man tells you else you will end up as I have and be miserable.” For the second time this evening, her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them impatiently away.

Cynara saw her cousin’s tears, but she said nothing. “Come on,” she decided. “Siren cannot have all the gentlemen to herself. Besides, she does not really know what to do with them. Let’s share in her bounty.”

Fancy laughed. “All right,” she said, and together the two young women joined their cousin. The royal reception lasted until midnight. There was much gossiping, some dancing, and gambling. The Season was just beginning. The cousins had agreed that when all was ended they would meet their grandmother in the Great Courtyard where their carriage would be awaiting them. Having bid Charlie and his wife good night, Fancy made her way with Cynara and Diana through the palace to their agreed meeting place.

A gentleman approached them suddenly, and bowing said to Fancy, “I am William Chiffinch, Mistress Devers. The king invites you to supper.”

Before Fancy might reply, Cynara spoke up. “Oh, dear!” she said. “You must tell His Majesty that my cousin is regretfully unable to join him tonight as we are meeting our grandmother, the dowager duchess of Glenkirk immediately.”

“However,” Fancy now put in, “I should be honored if His Majesty would ask me again, when I shall be more than pleased to accept his kind invitation.” She curtsied to Mr. Chiffinch.

“Of course, madame,” the king’s confidential servant replied, and he bowed to the three young women before turning away, and walking back down the corridor.

“The king asked you to supper, and you turned him down?” Diana was astounded by her two cousins’ boldness.

“Silly goose,” Cynara laughed. “When the king asks a lady to supper, she is meant to be the last course. He has just seen Fancy for the first time tonight. His ardor is more likely to increase if it is denied. Many a young woman has been ruined by accepting the royal invitation and then boring the king so she is not asked back.”

“I am surprised he would approach me at all,” Fancy said.

“You are beautiful, and you are widowed,” Cynara responded. “The king would not approach Diana or me, for we are innocents.”

“The way you advise our cousin, I sometimes wonder,” Diana said. “How is it that you are so knowledgeable of men and their ways?”

Cynara shook her head. “I don’t know if I am that clever, Siren, but when dealing with gentlemen, it seems to me that common sense should apply. When you can obtain something you desire easily, you lose your appetite for it. And men, I have noted, are mostly boys at heart. Boys crave excitement. Where is the excitement in an easily won prize?” She turned to Fancy. “You surprise me speaking up so quickly and telling Mr. Chiffinch that you would accept the king’s invitation on another occasion. Would you really?”

“Yes,” Fancy said quietly.

“I thought you were through with men,” Cynara said.

“I said I didn’t want a husband,” Fancy replied. “I think I might prefer being a king’s mistress to being any man’s wife. A mistress, it seems to me, maintains her freedom as long as she is true to her lover. And if I would be a mistress, I would prefer to be a king’s mistress than a common man’s. The king seems a kind man.”

“My lady Castlemaine might disagree with you there,” Cynara said with a chuckle. “The king is through with her, and she is most put out about it all.”

“I do not know her whole story,” Fancy said, “but I do know she has enriched herself and her children in the king’s bed. If she had any sense, she would retire gracefully and retain the king’s friendship rather than make an enemy of him with her tempers.”

“But Fancy,” Diana said, her look concerned, “are we not better than my lady Castlemaine? Would you not prefer the comfort of a wife’s place to the uncertainty of a mistress’s position?”

“A wife and a mistress maintain the same position. On their backs,” Cynara said laughing.

“Cyn!” Diana blushed.

“Do not fret, sweet cousin,” Fancy said. “There is no guarantee that the king, having been refused, will ask me to supper again.”

They had reached their carriage where Jasmine sat waiting for them. Liveried footmen helped them into the vehicle and the doors shut. The coach lumbered off out of the Great Court and through the Whitehall Gate onto the street.

“The king asked Fancy to supper!” Cynara burst out.

“Did he?” Jasmine said. I must be getting old, she considered. I did not see that coming at all. “And you refused him, of course.”

“For now,” Fancy replied.

“I had thought you would remarry one day,” Jasmine said to her granddaughter. “There is little future in being a king’s mistress.”

“I find it a more preferable fate to being another man’s wife,” Fancy told her grandmother. “I find the king an attractive man, and he is said to be kind to the ladies who please him.”

“Yes, he is that,” Jasmine admitted, “and if you give him a child, he will acknowledge it. The Stuarts always accept their paternal obligations as I certainly well know. Your uncle has teased me about it, but it would seem he is correct when he says the Stuarts have a tendre for the women in this family. I was once Prince Henry’s mistress, and your aunt Autumn, my youngest daughter, was for a brief time this king’s mistress. You look nothing like her so whatever the allure is that we seem to possess, it is not in our similar features. Well, let us wait and see if you have whetted the king’s appetite, or if your refusal has but put him off.” She looked at her other two granddaughters. “You will say nothing of this to anyone,” she instructed them both. “Diana, I know I may rely on you. But Cynara, my gossipy wench, if you should allow your tongue to wiggle-waggle, you could cause not just your cousin, but the entire family, great damage. Do you understand why, dear girl?”

“Yes, Grandmama, I do. I shall speak on this to no one,” Cynara promised Jasmine. “Especially not Papa or Mama.”

Jasmine’s eyes met those of Cynara’s. “Ahh, you do understand,” she said, well pleased. Then she sat back, and closed her eyes. “I am far too old to be spending half the night up with you three wenches,” she told them. “You have been properly introduced. I shall not always go with you after tonight. You have Charlie and Barbara there to chaperon you. I may, however, come to some of the masques. In King James’s day the masques were marvelous, and I took part in many of them.” She sat back and closed her eyes, not speaking again for the rest of their journey back to Greenwood House.

“Why does Grandmama not want Uncle Charlie and Aunt Barbara to know the king approached Fancy?” Diana asked when they were home again and seated in Fancy’s dayroom with their shoes off.

“Because Papa would probably speak to the king invoking family obligations. Then the king would not approach Fancy again. He would forever be annoyed at Papa for having interfered with his desires and with Fancy for not having said yes to his first offer. If the king invites our cousin again, and she pleases him, her fortune here in England is made.”

Diana sighed. “I’m glad the king did not approach me,” she said. “All the young men who importune me but confuse me. If the king made advances toward me, I do not know what I would do.”

Cynara laughed. “The day her parents left her here to be civilized from a Highland wench into a lady she said she could not wait to meet the king,” Cynara explained to her other cousin.

“Well, I have met him,” Diana said. “But I wouldn’t want to be his mistress. I want a husband. I just can’t make up my mind upon whom to concentrate.”

“We are just come to court,” Cynara said. “There is time to make those decisions. For now it is our duty to have fun.”

“When shall we go back to court?” Fancy asked.

“Why tomorrow as soon as we are rested,” Cynara said. “Perhaps we should get there in time to accompany the king on his afternoon walk along the riverside. Fancy, can your Bess bring our gowns for the evening? Then we will change our clothing in my father’s apartments. I know he and Mama will not mind. It is such a convenience that he is housed at Whitehall,” she noted.

“I’ll bring the gowns, and I’ll remain to help you all dress,” Bess spoke up. “But now you must go to your own chambers, my ladies, and get some rest. You shouldn’t have no purple circles beneath your beautiful eyes if you want to be the most beautiful young ladies at the king’s royal court.”

“You are so sensible!” Cynara said. “I wonder Bess that our grandmama did not give you to me instead of to Fancy.”

“She didn’t give me to you, my lady, because she knew I wouldn’t put up with your nonsense like your good Hester does,” Bess said pertly.

Fancy and Diana laughed, but Cynara looked very aggrieved.

“You are probably correct, though you are much too bold that you say so,” Cynara snapped as she flounced from the room.

Diana kissed her cousin good night and, green eyes twinkling, followed after Cynara.

When they had gone, Bess escorted her mistress into her bedchamber saying, “Was you the belle of the court, mistress?” She began to unlace the turquoise velvet and the silver lace bodice.

“The king asked me to supper,” Fancy said softly, “but it must remain a secret for now, Bess Trueheart. You cannot gossip to your friends about anything I confide in you.”

“You have my word, mistress,” Bess replied.

“I think I shall be uncomfortable confiding in my cousins should the king’s invitation come again, and I accept it, which I will. Diana is a little shocked that I will go to supper with His Majesty.”

“And Lady Cynara is full of self-importance, and all advice based on her experience,” Bess noted with a small smile.

“Exactly!” Fancy responded. “Oh, Bess, I knew that you would understand! I am not a fine lady like my two cousins. I was not raised that way. You and I have more in common, though we be mistress and servant, than I have with my two cousins. I love them dearly, but I am not like them at all. You are a practical and prudent girl, as am I.”

Bess nodded. “Aye, I am, and that is a truth, mistress. Your two cousins have the advantage of being known by society. Their lineage and their dowries are no secret. They’ll find husbands quick enough when they wants ’em and decides to settle down. But you—well, to be frank, and meaning no offense, mistress—come from the Colonies, surrounded by scandalous tales. Most ain’t yet discovered that your grandsire was the marquis of Lindley. That your pedigree is as good as that of your cousins. You need a little advantage with the court. If you decorates the king’s bed and afterward retains his friendship, you will have that advantage,” Bess concluded.

“Precisely!” Fancy said. “Ohh, I’m so glad that someone understands. And there is something else too, Bess. Cynara says the king’s reputation as a lover is great. Is he a good lover, or do they say it of him because he is the king, I wonder? My . . . husband”—she shuddered visibly as she said the word—“was not a good lover. I might have been a virgin, but women know this instinctively about a man. I should like to have a good lover.” Fancy loosened the tapes holding her velvet skirts up, and they fell to the carpeted floor.

“Well, mistress, from what I have heard,” Bess began, “the king’s reputation is the truth. His mother was a French lady, a princess, and she had some famous kings known to be great lovers in her family. And when the Stuarts come down from Scotland, they were also known to enjoy the company of the ladies. They have many cousins born on both sides of the blanket and recognized as family every one of them. Your uncle, the duke, is a fine example.” Bess lowered her voice now, and leaned closer to Fancy. “Lady Cynara was born on the wrong side of the blanket, you know, but when her pa returned to England he wed with her mother and formally legitimized her in the courts. Now don’t say I told you that. I mean it only as an example of the king’s family, and how they approaches the folks about them. The Stuarts are good-hearted. The king has several sons and daughters by several ladies, not just my lady Castlemaine. He has acknowledged and provided for them all. His reputation as a lover is well deserved, I’m thinking.”

“When he spoke to me tonight,” Fancy said, “there was something about him. I felt I would not be able to resist him.”

“It is lovely to fall in love,” Bess admitted, “even if it is only for a brief time.” Then suddenly she became her practical self once more. “Let’s get you out of the rest of these garments, mistress, and ready for your bed. You want to look beautiful again tomorrow if you are to attract the king once more.”

The next afternoon Fancy went back to Whitehall with her cousins. She was wearing a teal blue silk gown with an underskirt of teal brocade with silver threads that was looped up on either side so that it showed. Her sleeves were full, the top being teal, the lower half cream, and ending in soft lace cuffs. The puff sleeves were tied with narrow silver ribbons in two places. The top of her chemise, which came to her neck, was sheer lawn and edged with a pearl choker. She wore a tall-crowned hat trimmed with ostrich feathers.

The three cousins joined the king’s party as they strolled along the walk bordering the Thames. At the very front of the troupe of walkers, they could see the king. He wore full breeches gathered into a band at the knee and decorated with red ribbons. His long black velvet coat was buttoned to the waist and his large black felt hat was decorated with white feathers and red ribbon trim. His red leather shoes were high-heeled with square toes and high tongues. They were decorated with large buckles of pearls and paste gems. He carried a long ebony cane topped with a carved ivory ball.

“ ’Odsblood,” Cynara said softly, “he is so damned fashionable. I almost wish we were not related so closely.”

“Cyn!” Diana’s green eyes mirrored shock and disapproval.

“Don’t be a ninny, Siren,” Cynara said. “To be sought after by a king is an honor, but then I forgot,” she teased her cousin, “the royal Stuarts bring misfortune to the Leslies of Glenkirk.”

“Grandmama says it is true,” Diana defended her family.

“But I’m not a Leslie of Glenkirk, and neither is Fancy,” Cynara astutely reminded her cousin.

They suddenly realized as they walked that while they had begun at the back of the line, they were now in the front, and the king was just ahead of them. He turned his head slightly, smiled, and then beckoned them to join him in leading the court. Cynara moved quickly to the forefront with a flirtatious smile, half-dragging Diana and Fancy with her. Fancy wasn’t quite certain how it happened, but the king was suddenly tucking her small hand through his velvet-clad arm.

He smiled down into her face. “Tell me about my colony of Maryland, Mistress Devers,” he said to her. His black eyes were hypnotic.

Somehow she found her voice and, looking directly back at him, said, “It is a very beautiful land, Your Majesty. The Chesapeake is a series of deep blue bays coming up from the ocean. They are filled with all manner of sea life and game birds. The shores are forested in many places, but not so much now, my mother says, as when she first arrived. We call our estates plantations. My father grows tobacco, but not as much now as when he first came. He prefers raising horses. Slaves are needed for tobacco as it is very laborious work. My papa does not hold with slavery. He buys blacks, civilizes them, and trains them to serve us, or farm properly, and then he frees them. They usually remain with us and are paid for their work. He is thought odd by our neighbors, but I have seen the slavery system myself. It is inhuman in many cases. We also purchase the bonds of the English, the Scots, and the Irish who have been transported for crimes of one kind or another, or for debt. We have a lot of Irish at Bayview,” she concluded. “My father is sentimental for the land of his birth.”

“Bayview is the name of your plantation,” the king said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Fancy replied.

“And your father, if I recall the gossip, is Irish-born,” the king remarked, “and a Catholic?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. That is why my parents left Your Majesty’s Kingdom,” Fancy replied.

“Prejudice is an evil thing,” the king said. And then, “Did you know that you have the most extraordinary eyes, Mistress Devers?”

Fancy actually blushed. “I have my grandmother’s eyes,” she murmured softly.

“Your grandmother is an extraordinary woman,” the king noted. “Was she really expecting you last evening?” His eyes twinkled at her.

“Ohh, yes, Your Majesty!” Fancy replied. “She was awaiting us in her coach in the Great Court so she might escort us home.”

“Will she await you again tonight?” he wondered softly.

Fancy’s heart hammered nervously, but she said, “No, Your Majesty, she will not. My grandmother says that she is too old to come to court every night, and now that we have been properly introduced she says it will not be necessary, although she will come sometimes.”

“A most discreet lady, your grandmama,” the king noted wryly. Then he said, “So if I were to send Mr. Chiffinch to escort you to supper you would come, Mistress Devers?”

“I should be honored to take supper with Your Majesty,” Fancy said, and she smiled up at him, but it was not a flirtatious smile. Just a warm and friendly look.

The king took her small hand from his arm and kissed it. Their eyes locked. “I shall look forward to this evening,” the king said. Then he released her hand.

“As I will, Your Majesty,” Fancy answered him, and she curtsied before moving back to join her cousins who had now fallen behind into the midst of the troupe of courtiers. She felt strangely exhilarated. He was not the most handsome man she had ever met. Indeed, she was not certain he would qualify as handsome at all, but he did indeed have incredible charm, and again there had been that impression of kindness.

“What happened?” Cynara hissed.

“Later,” Fancy responded.

“They are already gossiping that he singled you out,” Cynara said. Her blue eyes were sparkling with curiosity.

Fancy remained silent, causing Diana to smile to herself. Diana fully approved of her older cousin’s discretion. While she wasn’t certain she favored Fancy’s obvious course of action, she did appreciate her discretion. But if the king took her cousin to be one of his mistresses, there would be little prudence involved.

They napped in the apartments of the duke and duchess of Lundy. They ate a light meal that Bess had ordered from the palace kitchens. They bathed their faces and hands, and then prepared for the evening’s entertainment. The Christmas season was almost upon them, and tonight the lord of Misrule was to be chosen by the court to rule over the coming holidays. Bess helped them all to dress. Diana wore a velvet gown of pale lavender. Cynara was in burgundy. Fancy in a blue-green. Bess did each of the girl’s hair, fashioning the dark locks on the three heads into ringlets.

There was music and dancing in the king’s banqueting hall. There was much laughter when Harry Summers, the earl of Summersfield, was chosen as the lord of Misrule. He was a tall, dark saturnine young man in his late twenties, whose sobriquet was Wickedness. Cynara eyed him almost greedily, remarking to her cousins that the earl was most outrageous handsome, no matter his reputation for mischief.

“He is not the sort of gentleman one marries,” Diana said primly.

“I don’t want to wed him, Siren,” Cynara said. “I just want to know him better and perhaps play with him a bit.”

“He looks as if he would eat you alive and not even leave the bones,” Fancy observed. “I do not like men who are too handsome.”

The evening wore on with Diana being surrounded as usual by a host of eligible, and not so eligible but hopeful, gentlemen while Cynara and Fancy found themselves once again on the perimeter of their cousin’s circle of admirers. Finally Cynara had had enough.

“I am going to see if I can find the lord of Misrule himself, and get him to take notice of me,” she said.

“Be careful,” Fancy told her, and Cynara moved off into the crowd of courtier. Fancy, however, remained where she was. She didn’t mind being ignored for it allowed her the opportunity to observe all that was going on about her. She watched the men attempting to gain Diana’s favor with interest. Two stood out. They were identical twin brothers The duke and the marquis of Roxley. Tall with wavy auburn hair and blue eyes, they vied eagerly for Diana’s attention.

“Mistress Devers?”

Fancy looked up into the face of the king’s personal servant, William Chiffinch. “His Majesty has sent me to escort you to supper,” Mr. Chiffinch said in quiet tones. “If you would please to follow me.” He turned and moved away.

Fancy arose and followed him. She noticed that no one was paying the least bit of attention. Mr. Chiffinch was a man who could render himself invisible, and Fancy Devers was neither known yet by the court nor important enough to be noticed as she left the banqueting hall. She followed him through a maze of corridors, wondering if she would ever find her way out again. Finally Mr. Chiffinch stopped before a set of double oak doors. On either side of the doors stood a man-at-arms in the king’s livery. Mr. Chiffinch opened the door and escorted Fancy inside.

“His Majesty will be with you shortly,” he said, and then withdrew.

She looked about her, awestruck. She was in the most elegant room she had ever been in. The walls of the room were covered in red silk brocade and hung with huge magnificent pantings of landscapes and of romantic scenes. On one wall there was an enormous fireplace of red and black marble flanked on either side by carved pillars. The great andirons held large logs of applewood that burned with a sweet aroma. The furniture was golden oak, and the seats were upholstered in either dark tapestry or scarlet velvet brocade. Drapes of scarlet velvet brocade hung at the windows. A great crystal chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. It was filled with beeswax tapers all burning brightly. There was a second door in the room as well as the one through which she had entered. Curious Fancy crossed the room and opening the portal peeped through.

It was a bedchamber with white and gold silk walls, a second fireplace that was also burning brightly, and the biggest bed that Fancy had ever seen in all of her life. Blushing, she quickly closed the door and, not certain what she should do, sat down to wait for the king. On the mantel an elegant clock ticked rhythmically. A gust of wind sent a rush of sparks up the chimney. The fire crackled sharply. Fancy stared across the room, her eyes unfocused. Was she doing the right thing? Was she really the kind of woman that a king would desire? For a moment her late husband’s words on the wedding night slipped back into her conscience. You are as cold as marble, he had said to her. But had she been? Or had she just been afraid, and with good reason, considering what had followed. She shivered and again questioned herself as to why she was here.

The door to the apartment opened, and Charles Stuart, king of England, entered. Fancy jumped up, and curtsied low. It was too late to retreat now, she thought. And besides, weren’t first thoughts always best? “Good evening, Your Majesty,” she said breathlessly.

“My dear girl,” the king greeted her with a warm smile. “May I say how lovely I thought you looked this evening. These shades of blue and green more than suit you.” Reaching out he raised her up, and gazed into her eyes. “Amazing!” he said with another smile. “What beautiful eyes you have, Fancy Devers.”

There was a knock upon the door, and it opened to allow a small line of servants into the apartment. They set up a table with linen, silver, crystal, and gold plates. The sideboard was filled with covered dishes, and then with the utmost gallantry the king seated Fancy at the table before the fireplace.

“I did promise you supper,” he said with a twinkle in his black eyes.

“I never doubted it, Your Majesty,” Fancy replied. “I have been told that Your Majesty is a man of his word.”

The king laughed. “You have a quick wit,” he said sounding very pleased. “I suspected that I was right about you, my dear.”

“Right about what, Your Majesty?” she asked him.

“You are intelligent, sensitive, and amusing,” he replied, smiling again as a servant placed a dish of raw oysters before him.

“Are you going to eat all of those?” Fancy heard herself asking aloud as a dish of prawns steamed in white wine was set before her.

His dark eyes met her turquoise ones. “Every one,” he said with emphasis and began to swallow the mollusks.

Fancy nibbled at her prawns, suddenly nervous again. “It seems a great number of oysters to me,” she noted.

“I am a man of vast appetites, madame,” he told her. “Are your appetites large?”

“I do not know, Your Majesty, for my experience is slight,” she responded. “But the ladies in my family do have a certain allure of sorts and seem to charm the gentlemen.”

“If you have inherited from your grandmother not just her beautiful eyes, but the same allure that bewitched my uncle, then I suspect we may get on very well, Fancy. Do you understand me, my dear?”

“Your Majesty wishes to make me the last course in his meal this evening,” Fancy replied with utmost seriousness.

Charles Stuart burst out laughing, and he laughed until he was weak and there were tears rolling down his face. When he finally regained control of himself, he asked her, “Are you always so bloody forthright, Fancy Devers?”

“I have always thought it best to be candid, Your Majesty,” Fancy answered him. “I hope I have not displeased you by it.”

“No, “ he said, “you have not. More often than not I am spoken to with such delicacy of feeling and couching of phrases, that I often find it difficult to even understand some of the things that are being said.”

A servant removed the dish of oyster shells from before the king, and another whisked away the remaining prawns. The gold plates that had been briefly removed from the table were now returned filled with a selection of foods. There was rare beef and sliced capon on Fancy’s plate along with a serving of asparagus, obviously grown in the king’s greenhouses, for it was December. The vegetable was covered with a delicate sauce. She lifted each stalk, holding it between her thumb and her forefinger, and ate it slowly with relish, her little tongue skillfully licking the sauce so that not a drop was wasted “These are so good,” she told him. “What a delicious treat!”

He watched her, fascinated, particularly as he realized almost immediately that she had absolutely no idea how sensuous her dining on the asparagus was to him. He felt himself hardening briefly beneath the velvet of his breeches and considered if that pointed little pink tongue had any idea the uses to which it could be put. He knew in that moment that Fancy Devers was going to please him. He had never, since he returned to England, kept two mistresses publicly, but now that Barbara Castlemaine was almost gone, it was a distinct possibility. Even his cousin, the king of France hadn’t done that yet.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked him.

“Yes!” he said, and turned his attention to his own plate, which had beef and ham and salmon, as well as asparagus, on it.

There was also a silver basket of delicate little breads on the table. There was sweet butter and several cheeses as well. The servants kept their goblets constantly filled, but Fancy was careful not to drink a great deal. She didn’t know if she had a head for it, and besides she didn’t want to miss what was to come by being drunk. When the little light supper was over, the servants carried away the table and its contents.

“Shall I call a maid to help you undress?” the king asked her when they were at last alone.

“I am sure Your Majesty has the skills necessary to help me,” Fancy told him. Her heart was beginning to hammer a little nervously.

He escorted her into the bedchamber. The heavy gold-velvet draperies were drawn across the windows. The bed’s satin coverlet was drawn back, the bedcurtains but half open. There was a bowl of red strawberries with a pot of clotted Devon cream, a carafe of wine, and two goblets on a table. The candles reflected within their crystal lamps upon the mantel, on the table, and by the bed. The king closed the door behind them.

Fancy started at the finality of the door’s click.

He saw it and asked her, “Are you afraid?”

She shook her head. “Not of you,” Fancy told him. “I simply worry my inexperience will displease you.”

“You were married, I have been told,” he replied.

She nodded. “For a few hours, Your Majesty.”

“Are you a virgin?” he inquired.

“Nay, I had a wedding night,” she told him, her voice suddenly tight with her tension.

“It was an unhappy experience?” he guessed.

“Yes.”

“And yet you accepted my invitation knowing full well what I would demand of you. Why?” The king was distressed by her admission, and yet he still desired her very much.

“Cynara says you have a reputation of being the world’s best lover,” Fancy began.

The king could not help but smile at this.

“Women, even those lacking in experience, have an instinctive knowledge about lovemaking, Your Majesty. The man to whom I was married was the most handsome creature, with such charm that every woman who knew him loved him on some level,” Fancy explained. “He was a terrible, no he was a brutal lover whose only need was to satisfy himself. He died for it, I fear, and widowed me before he could destroy me.”

He had to ask. “Did you kill him?”

“No, and yet I was responsible for his death. I will leave you if that is what you desire, Your Majesty, but ask me no more now, I beg of you,” Fancy said quietly.

“Let us return to the point when you knew he was an inferior lover, my dear,” the king said as quietly. “If making love made you unhappy, then why are you here with me this evening?”

“Because of your reputation,” Fancy said honestly. “The women of my family have always known the delights of passion. I would too, but I don’t want to have to place myself in the keeping of another husband in order to discover what they know. And I can hardly question the amatory skills of a man before I wed him. Your Majesty, however, comes highly recommended as a lover. I should far rather have a lover than I would have another husband.”

Charles Stuart digested this statement, amazed.

“Have I shocked you, Your Majesty?” she said. “I am so new to England and to the royal court that I hope I have not offended you with my bluntness.”

He finally managed to find his voice again. “My dear,” he told her, “I do not believe I have ever met a more candid lady than you. I can but hope that I am as skilled a lover for you as my reputation would have you and the rest of the world believe.”

“From the moment I was introduced to Your Majesty,” Fancy told him, “I had not a doubt.”

He turned her about and began to unlace her bodice with adept fingers. “I think, my dear Fancy, that you will prove a most dangerous woman when you have grown up a bit more.” Then he dropped a kiss upon the curve of her delicate neck. “Your scent is intoxicating. What is it?”

“It is night-blooming jasmine, Your Majesty,” Fancy said. “My grandmother and her old maidservants distill it themselves. I love it.”

“As do I,” the king replied. The bodice unlaced, he turned her about again, and drew it off, laying it carefully upon a chair. “Now, my dear,” he told her, “it is your turn. Will you remove my coat?”

Fancy’s slender fingers painstakingly undid each of the carved gold buttons with their paste jewel centers that held the king’s claret velvet coat closed. Stepping behind him she pulled it off, and set it upon a second chair.

The king turned about so that he was facing her. “Now, together,” he said with a small smile, and he began to untie the ribbons that held her dainty lace-trimmed chemise closed. Fancy smiled back at him and loosened the ribbons holding his shirt closed. The garments removed, they were both naked to the waist. The king spun his companion around, and his hands as quickly cupped her two breasts. The twin beauties were perfectly round globes of firm, soft flesh. He closed his dark eyes briefly and allowed his other senses to take over.

His touch was so gentle, Fancy thought surprised. It was almost reverent, as if he were worshiping her. She had thought she might feel fear at first, but rather she was relaxed and leaned her head back against his shoulder. Eyes wide she watched as he caressed her bosom. His thumbs, like velvet, rubbed her nipples causing them to pucker sharply. His palms were warm and fondled her tenderly.

“Beautiful,” the king murmured in her ear. “Your breasts are the most beautiful I have ever seen, my dear. What perfect treasures you offer me. They are indeed fit for a king.” He turned her around and, lifting her up, lowered her just enough so that he might kiss the spheres he was so obviously admiring. His lips were moist and hot, and she could not refrain from a quiver as excitement raced through her body.

He lowered her so that her feet were once again upon the floor. His hands cupped her heart-shaped face and he drew her so close that the tips of her nipples, just the tips, touched his broad and smooth chest. Then he began to kiss her—long, slow kisses with his big sensuous mouth. Again, and again, and yet again his lips took hers deeply. Her head spun with each kiss. At one point she wasn’t even certain she was breathing. It was without a doubt the most delicious embrace she had ever in all of her young life experienced. Her late, and not lamented, husband had certainly never kissed her like this. Fancy sighed deeply.

He laughed softly, and her eyes flew open to find him smiling. “You like being kissed,” he noted with understatement. Two of his fingers ran lightly over her lips teasingly.

She nodded kissing the fingers.

“What else do you like?” he asked her. “If we are to please each other, I would know.”

Fancy shook her head. “I don’t really know,” she admitted.

“Then we must try to ascertain that information,” the king told her seriously, but his dark eyes were filled with amusement.

“I suppose we must,” Fancy agreed cheerfully.

“It will be difficult in all those petticoats,” he noted.

“Then I must remove them, but should you not also remove a garment, Your Majesty?” She felt bold enough now to tease him.

“I am of the exact same opinion,” he acknowledged. Sitting down upon the bed, the king removed first his shoes and then, standing up, his claret velvet breeches, even as Fancy struggled from her heavy skirts, and her several petticoats. “You are still wearing your shoes,” he noted.

Fancy sat upon the edge of the bed and boldly held out first one foot to him and then the other. He drew the greenish-blue silk slippers with their turquoise and pearl buckles from her slim feet and set them aside. Then he knelt and taking a foot in his hand began to massage it between his palms. Her eyes widened with surprise.

“What delicious little feet you have,” he noted, and he began to cradle her other foot, rubbing it with strong fingers. “And you wear silk calecons. How charming! But they must come off, my darling.” His big hand slid up her legs, beneath her lace-trimmed drawers, drawing them down and off. Only her silk stockings with their green and blue vines and her silver garters remained to give the illusion of modesty. His hands smoothed over her bare thighs. His eyes admired the thick dark bush of tight curls between them.

“Turn about, Majesty,” Fancy said softly.

The king stood, grinning. Seating himself again, he removed his stockings and garters. Then standing once more, he pulled off his silk drawers before kneeling before her once more. “Lie back,” he said, and when she complied with his request, he began to undo her garters. Then he slowly rolled her stockings from her shapely legs. His hands slid over her calves and down her ankles.

Fancy was trembling with excitement. These last few minutes were the most thrilling she had ever known. If he did nothing more, she would have been satisfied, but then suddenly she realized that she wouldn’t be at all. Even knowing what was to come, she welcomed it, for she had never imagined that a man could be so tender with a woman. He gently spread her milky thighs, and his dark head pushed between them. She drew a hard, sharp breath as he did so, and then a far more audible gasp of surprise as he parted her nether lips with strong fingers, and she felt the tip of his tongue touching her in a most incredibly intimate manner.

A man who had always been sensitive to women, the king raised his head a moment, asking her, “This has never been done to you?”

“No,” she whispered, “but I do not think I want you to cease.” She heard him chuckle as his head was once again lowered. At first there was just the sensation of his broad tongue stroking her. But then he seemed to find the most sensitive spot hidden within those folds of moist and sentient flesh. The movements of his tongue became more sensuous, and then as she responded with growing ardor, which was evidenced by her little cries, the tongue flicked relentlessly back and forth over that aching bud until she felt a distinct snap within her body and a wave of warmth, coupled with pure pleasure, swept over her.

The king’s body was now covering hers. His manhood began to insinuate itself into the warmth and drenching wet of her love passage. He had meant to draw out his love play a bit longer, but her delightful enthusiasm had roused him more quickly than he had been roused in a very long time. She was as eager and as willing as he was. Then a look of complete surprise came over his face. He had just found his forward passage very much impeded. He drew back slightly and pushed gently ahead once more, but the previously easy path was most definitely blocked. “You are a virgin!” he gasped, and he struggled to maintain control over himself.

“No!” Fancy cried, “I cannot be!”

“We will not now debate the point,” the king said through gritted teeth. “This will pain you, but only briefly, I swear.” Then he thrust through her virgin shield in one quick motion, burying himself deeply within her love sheath with a groan.

It stung. There was a quick sensation of burning, and then it was gone. She felt him inside her, but the feeling was not at all unpleasant. He began to move on her now with slow, masterful strokes of his manhood.

“Oh!” Fancy exclaimed. “Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhh!” A wave of utter delight washed over her. She had never before known such a sensation. Stars began to explode behind her closed eyelids. His rhythm and acceleration increased. Her body was overfull with new feelings. She soared, and as she did she cried out, and then she wept uncontrollably. He kissed away the tears on her cheeks, all the while thrusting and pulling until with a great cry his big body stiffened, and she felt the rush of his juices as they poured forth, filling her. As he collapsed upon her, Fancy swooned with uncontrollable excitement.

When the king came to himself a moment later, he rolled off his beautiful lover and then gathered her into his arms. She lay softly against his broad, smooth chest. She had been a virgin, and yet she claimed that she was not. What had happened to make her believe that she wasn’t a virgin? He knew in time she would tell him the secret of her husband’s death, but this other he had to know now. She murmured low against him, and his arms instinctively tightened about her. There had been so many women in his life. Lucy Walter had given him his first son before he had been forced to flee England during the civil wars. And sweet Elizabeth Killigrew had given him a daughter two years later while he was on the run. And there had been Catherine Pegge’s lad, born also in his exile. And then there was Barbara Villiers, his first real maitress en titre. Beautiful, sensual, greedy Barbara. She had given him five children, and attempted to foist a sixth on him, but he had known the sixth was not his and denied her. Her unfaithfulness was his escape. And recently Nellie Gwyn, saucy and greedy, but a good heart.

And now there was Fancy Devers. For he intended making her his mistress. She was not a woman to quickly bed and then discard. No. Fancy was a lover he would keep. She would be a nice balance with Nellie, and he knew she would be respectful of the queen. But first he needed to learn why this lovely girl had believed she wasn’t a virgin.