Virginia Henley - Unmasked by Virginia Henley

  Velvet slowly traversed the chamber until she reached the side of King Charles, who was standing just inside the ornate doors. She went down into a graceful curtsy before him. Charles bowed gallantly and raised her fingers to his lips. She stood on tiptoe and, using her fan to shield her words from those close by, whispered her concern for Mary Butler.

  His smile was sardonic as he bent to murmur, "And how do you know young Cavendish is a notorious womanizer?"

  "He tried to ravish me, Sire!"

  Unknown to Velvet, two pairs of eyes watched her every move. The first pair belonged to Will Cavendish, who immediately suspected that he was the subject of her furtive conversation with the king. A thirst for re­venge almost choked him.

  The second pair of eyes belonged to Montgomery, who immediately suspected secret dalliance was the reason for the hurried whispers. Jealousy almost choked him.

  Charles took Velvet's hand and led her through the doors, where they could be more private. "I'm hon­ored you confided in me, Velvet. Your protective in­stinct toward the young lady is commendable. I'll drop Ormonde a word to the wise."

  "Thank you, Sire. You have put my fears to rest."

  "I was looking for Barbara. I suspect she's in the gaming room." He bowed. "By your leave, my lady."

  She sighed at his gallantry and returned to the chamber. When she saw Greysteel talking with the king's brothers, James and Henry, she joined them. They were discussing the pools that the king had or­dered dug in St. James's Park.

  "The ponds will all be connected like a chain when they are finished," James explained to his younger brother, Gloucester.

  "But won't they become stagnant?" Henry asked.

  "No, they'll be fed by the Thames and flow contin­ually so they can be stocked with fish," Greysteel ex­plained.

  Henry saw Velvet and lost interest in the fishponds. "Lady Montgomery, your humble servant. I cannot be­lieve you are without a partner for the next dance."

  "My wife is about to retire." Montgomery's tone was implacable.

  Velvet couldn't believe her husband's rudeness. She gave the young prince an enchanting smile. "I hope you had a happy birthday, Your Highness."

  "Promise you will allow me to partner you tomor­row night?"

  "It will give me the greatest pleasure in the world, Your Highness." She swept Henry and James a curtsy.

  Before she could say good night, Greysteel nodded to the king's brothers, clamped his fingers around her wrist and took her from the chamber.

  "What the devil is the matter with you?" She glanced at his face and saw that it had a dark, closed look.

  He didn't speak until they were in their own rooms. He released her wrist, paced across the cham­ber, then turned and glared at her. "Is there no end to your conquests, madam?"

  A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. "Glouces­ter?" It was preposterous. A virile man like Mont­gomery could not be jealous of the king's young brother. There was only one male in the world who could arouse his jealousy. Oh, God, he saw me whisper­ing with Charles!

  "It seems you have a flagrant fondness for Stuarts."

  "If you are referring to His Majesty, he asked me if I'd seen Barbara and I took him next door to the gam­ing room," she improvised quickly. "He is obsessed with her."

  "Barbara's a whore," he said with contempt.

  "There is no shame in being mistress to the king."

  "Why? Because a royal whore sets a higher price on her sexual favors?"

  "Barbara is having a child. I warrant it's the king's, since she's proud as a peacock."

  "A peahen," he corrected as his anger toward Velvet began to evaporate. "Perhaps I'll take you away from Court for a while."

  "Greysteel, you know how much I adore Roehampton, but please let's not go just yet. The theatres are about to open and I'm simply dying to attend the play!"

  "I'll take you to the theatre early next week,” he promised.

  "Thank you, darling." Velvet knew the storm clouds had almost dispersed. She was learning to han­dle her dominant husband, born under the sign of the Ram. Instead of flying at him, accusing him of spying on her and being possessive as a dog with a bone, she soothed him with soft words. All she had to do now was take him to bed. She shivered with anticipation.

  Velvet was too wise to try to make love to Greysteel. He was too dominant to take the passive role, even in lovemaking. Especially in lovemaking. He took the lead in the mating dance and she followed. He was the seducer; she, the one seduced. Greysteel was the con­queror; Velvet yielded to all his demands.

  Much later, when her frenzied cries had quieted and his fierce needs had been satisfied, she drifted into sleep, safe and warm against his powerful body. Velvet began to dream:

  She was climbing the staircase that led to the king's pri­vate chambers. She knew he was waiting for her, but some­how she had forgotten about time and now she was late. She tucked her astrology book beneath her arm and began to hurry. Though she climbed higher and higher, the steps went on and on and she began to fear that she would never reach him. It grew dark and the panic inside engulfed her. All of a sudden her hand reached out and touched a door. It opened and there was the king, bathed in a silvery light that flooded the darkness.

  "Charles!" She felt his powerful arms about her and pressed her face against his heart.

  Greysteel went rigid and looked down at his sleep­ing wife in horror. It was obvious she dreamed she was in Charles's arms. He withdrew from her stiffly, but she didn't awaken.

  The king pulled away from her and turned toward two other women who stood behind him. One was Barbara with a baby in her arms. The other was his queen, wearing a golden crown. "I have no time for you, Velvet. We can no longer be friends."

  As he abandoned her, her cry was heartrending, Charles!"

  Greysteel quit the bed. He bit down on a foul oath and left the chamber. He paced across the sitting room, fighting the urge to smash something. He kicked a chair savagely and the leather split open and the stuff­ing spewed out. His eye fell on a pair of decanters. He pushed aside the wine and reached for the whiskey. He dismissed the idea of using a glass; his vengeful hand would crush it to smithereens. He carried the decan­ter to the window and stared out into the night with unseeing eyes as he lifted the whiskey to his mouth and tipped it up.

  His guts roiled and burned with red-hot fury, yet he welcomed it, clung to it, for once it subsided, the pain would begin. His iron will kept his thoughts at bay while he concentrated on swallowing, yet he knew they were there, slithering like serpents waiting to sink in their fangs and poison his mind.

  He stood at the window long after the decanter was empty. Finally, he went into the dressing room and stretched out on the daybed. His arm lay across his eyes as if he were attempting to keep out visions that would threaten his sanity.

  Insistent thoughts gradually penetrated through his defensive shield. In the deep recesses of his brain he knew that the king had not lain with Velvet; to Charles she was a childhood friend. Why, then, did he have this raging jealousy? Greysteel knew the answer, had always known it. Tonight he would face it squarely.

  Since the day of their betrothal Velvet had com­pared him unfavorably with Charles Stuart. When she was a child, she had become infatuated by a prince, and over the years of their mutual exile, her every wish, every dream, had been focused on Charles be­coming King of England. He had become an obses­sion, overshadowing everything and everyone else.

  Though Greysteel had coerced her to wed him, he knew that Velvet did not regret the marriage. Not only was she proud to be the wife of the Earl of Eglinton; she was highly attracted to him physically. But she did not love him. Even worse than that, she imagined her­self in love with Charles. Greysteel knew he could not go on this way. He had far too much masculine pride to tolerate being anything but first and always in Vel­vet's heart and soul. If she was not willing to give him everything, then perversely Greysteel wanted nothing.

  In the morning when Velv
et awoke, her husband had already left. She had slept later than usual and the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. Greysteel, al­ways considerate, had been careful not to disturb her.

  Christian came to Whitehall to join her for lunch, and then the two of them were going shopping at the New Exchange in the Strand. "I'm looking forward to our excursion. I haven't been into London for weeks," Velvet declared.

  "Oh, darling, you won't recognize the town. Every­thing has been transformed. Of course the cobble-stoned streets are still lined with decaying buildings that have stood rotting for centuries, but now there is a tavern on every corner called the King's Head or the King's Cock—oh, no, that was a brothel."

  Velvet laughed at her droll wit. "No more religious fanatics preaching hellfire and brimstone?"

  "I swear the same men stand on the same corners, but instead of trying to convert you with a religious treatise, they are trying to corrupt you with perverted poems, a penny a page!"

  “I cannot wait to be corrupted. Lead on."

  “Oh you must take a mask, darling. They are all the rage. Makes everyone suspect you are going to an assignation. No self-respecting female would be caught dead without one."

  "I only have a black sequined butterfly mask. It's more suitable for evening wear."

  "It will be perfect. The fashions are outrageous. You'll need a mask to hide your blushes."

  As the dowager's carriage made its torturously slow way along the overcrowded Strand, Velvet was entranced at the changes she saw. People laughed, jos­tled each other, exchanged pithy insults and then laughed again. The street scenes that once had seemed rainted in drab black and white were now ablaze with color, from the fantastic shop signs to the vivid gar­ments of the males and females who paraded about.

  Inside the Exchange, the stalls had been transformed. Everything imaginable was being offered, imported from foreign ports across the sea. Christian was in seventh heaven buying satin slippers and kid boots. "I must have these pattens. They lift your feet above the sewage that runs in the kennels."

  When Velvet looked skeptical, Christian explained with a straight face, "For if I take up streetwalking, darling."

  Velvet purchased French perfume and lace stock­ings as finespun as cobwebs. She bought a new mask, some ostrich feathers dyed in brilliant shades and a frilly parasol.

  Back at Whitehall, she stepped from the carriage and thanked Christian for a lovely afternoon, "I had a marvelous time. We must do this again soon."

  "Good-bye, darling. Kiss your handsome husband for me."

  Velvet rushed upstairs and put away her purchases. She had time only to wash her hands and face and change her gown. Then she hurried downstairs to join her husband for dinner.

  She spotted his tall figure across the chamber, and as she walked toward him she noticed that he did not greet her with a smile; in fact he turned to walk away. She hurried to close the distance between them. Then a voice she detested spoke her name. "Lady Mont­gomery." She turned to face Lord Cav.

  "I hope you enjoyed the play this afternoon. I en­vied you your vantage from His Majesty's royal box that put you closer to the stage than the rest of us."

  "You are mistaken. I was not at the theatre, and cer­tainly not with His Majesty," she said coolly.

  Cavendish glanced at Montgomery, then back at Velvet. "Ah, I see," he drawled. "Forgive me. I am mis­taken. The lady in the butterfly mask was not you after all."

  Velvet gasped. She knew exactly what the swine was doing. This was retaliation for last night.

  Greysteel calmly took hold of the young lord's lace cravat and smashed his other fist into his face. Cav went flying into a table before he lay stretched out on the floor. Montgomery turned on his heel and left the floor.

  Chapter 19

  Velvet stood aghast, rooted to the spot, as a couple of young courtiers helped Cavendish to his feet and handed him a linen napkin to stem the blood from his nose. The voice level in the dining hall had risen to a pitch over the incident and she felt every­one's eyes upon her. She saw two ladies whispering behind their hands and feared the gossipmongers would have a feast.

  Embarrassed down to her fingertips, she lowered her lashes, raised her chin and with quiet dignity left the chamber. Velvet returned to her own apartment. She expected to find Greysteel there, but instead she found Emma.

  "I could scream! Lord Bloody Cav just blatantly lied to my husband. He told Greysteel that I was at the the­atre with Charles this afternoon ... hinting at an assig­nation!"

  "What did Lord Montgomery say?"

  "He knocked him down. Everyone's talking about it."

  Emma clasped her hands together. "I knew something must be dreadfully wrong between you when he spoke to me this morning."

  "What do you mean? What did he say?"

  "He asked me if I would mind moving my things into your dressing room."

  et looked puzzled. "Has someone taken your chamber?"

  "Yes." Emma hesitated. "Lord Montgomery has taken it."

  Velvet went through to the large dressing room and opened her husband's wardrobe. His clothes were gone and Emma's hung in their place. She went pale and experienced a sinking feeling. "When did all this happen?"

  "This afternoon while you were gone, my love."

  Anger rose up in her. How dare he move out of our apartment without a word to me! Velvet marched down to the end of the corridor and banged loudly on Emma's chamber door. When there was no answer she turned the knob and found it locked. You devil! She kickrd the door, hurt her toes and limped back. Emma threw her a worried glance. "Did you have any supper?"

  "I’m not hungry." Velvet sat down to rub her toes and stared at the chair that had been split open.

  "I'll fetch some wine." Emma left with the empty decanter.

  Velvet's thoughts chased each other like quicksilver. He was gone when I woke up this morning. We made love last night; nothing was wrong. Then she remembered how angry he had been after he'd seen her whispering with Charles. Her thoughts flew back to the previous week when he'd seen her coming from the king's private chambers. Did the guard tell him I was with Charles? Was Grey steel waiting for me? She wondered how long he had been standing at the bottom of the private stair­case. For every minute he waited, his jealous suspi­cions probably multiplied. My God, does he believe I was at the theatre with Charles this afternoon?

  Emma returned with the wine and poured her a glass of golden Rhenish. Velvet drank it and poured herself another. "I'll never be able to show my face again, after what happened tonight. Montgomery is mad with jealousy."

  "Mayhap you could go to. Roehampton for a few days."

  "I've done nothing wrong! Why should I run away?"

  "But if you can't show your face, my love—"

  "Hell and furies! Men sow all the trouble in our lives and leave women to reap it! Fighting and brawl­ing is all they know. Yet I warrant a man wouldn't hide in his room. I shall go downstairs and brazen it out. Help me change my gown."

  Velvet arrived in the Presence Chamber wearing a silver tissue creation with small black bows leading from her tiny waist to the low-cut neckline. She had pinned black ostrich feathers into her red gold curls, and a black silk beauty spot sat at the corner of her mouth.

  She paused at the entrance and languidly wafted her large fan as she decided who to join that would garner her the most attention. She saw Lord and Lady Arlington laughing with Barbara and Buckingham and knew she'd found her mark.

  George held up his hand in mock alarm. "Pray tell me I will not suffer anatomical indignities if I speak to iw.my lady."

  The others laughed that he had dared to touch on the subect.

  "Intercourse with me is not without risk, my lord."

  Arlington guffawed. "Touché! Top that one,. George."

  Barbara touched her belly and said archly, "Risking intercourse can have its rewards."

  George shuddered. "And its anatomical indignities.”

  Everyone laughed, including
Barbara. "I swear you are the most inconsiderate brute alive, George."

  The Duke of Lauderdale and Anna Marie Shrews­bury joined them. "We're on our way to the gaming room and need a laugh before we get plucked like par­tridges. What's so funny?" she asked.

  "We were laughing at you, Anna Marie," Buckingham drawled. "Now we'll have to find another butt for our jests."

  Lauderdale winked. "Any of you lasses fancy a plucking?"

  "I'm always game," Barbara murmured suggestively.

  "Then stick a feather up yer arse and start crowing." The coarse Scot laughed at his own joke.

  "Don't encourage her; Barbara never stops crowing,” Buckingham said. "Shall we all have a game of bassette?"

  Velvet felt a twinge of panic. "I'm not good at cards."

  "Och, lassie, I'll tutor ye." Lauderdale took her hand.

  "Thank you, Your Grace." The wine has made me reck­less.

  He squeezed her hand. "Call me Johnnie."

  They all made their way to a round card table with a few empty seats. Velvet drew in her breath at the sight of her husband. She had never seen him gamble before.

  Since Court was a place of loosest morals but strictest manners, Montgomery nodded politely to his wife. Henry Jermyn, who sat next to him, immediately offered Velvet his chair.

  Velvet wanted to hurt Greysteel, as he had hurt her. "Pray don't disturb yourself, m'lord. The honeymoon is over. We lead separate lives, as Court fashion dic­tates for married couples."

  As they all took seats, Montgomery threw in his cards and stood up. "I won't take advantage. I only play to win."

  King Charles strolled into the room. He knew that his presence would keep Barbara from wagering reck­lessly and losing his money. He stopped to talk with Montgomery.

  Greysteel knew Charles would have heard about the punch he'd thrown. "I've been thinking of with­drawing from Court, Sire."

  "We won't permit it. Who would teach young pups their manners? You pledged to stay until after my coronation."

  "Any leads yet on the missing royal regalia?"

  "The search is futile. Melted down to fill some Roundhead general's coffers, I warrant. New crowns and scepters are being ordered. I'm having a saddle, worked with gold and jewels, made for the horse of state."