Virginia Henley - Unmasked by Virginia Henley

  Buckingham, tired of cards and the company, joined them. "You will look like King Solomon, Sire."

  Montgomery grinned. "Dazzling pageantry will as­sert the triumph of the monarchy."

  "Speaking of horses, I know you both share my in­terest in racing. Newmarket was the Mecca for horse races in my father's time and will be again with my support. I've decided to go for a couple of weeks in autumn. I'm negotiating with the Earl of Suffolk to buy Audley End. The Jacobean mansion is large enough for the entire Court and there's enough land for a breeding farm. Nothing like horses for relaxation."

  "Racing is the sport of kings." Buckingham glanced over at Barbara. "Though some might disagree."

  Charles followed his glance. "Next weekend there is a race meet much closer to home, at Epsom Downs, Surrey. I've decided Montgomery and I will attend. It will show our ladies that they do not lead us around by the nose. Won't you join us, George?"

  If my dearest wife gives her permission," Buckingham said with a straight face.

  "May I offer the hospitality of my house at Roehampton, Sire? 'Tis only a few miles from Epsom."

  "Excellent. We'll celebrate before the races in case we lose. I'll have food, wine and other things sent for our enjoyment. With your permission, I shall invite Lau­derdale." Charles walked over to the gaming table and stood behind Barbara to watch the play.

  George lowered his voice. "My cousin has decided to withhold her favors until he agrees to ennoble her. I wonder which one will give in first?"

  Montgomery frowned. "In a battle of the sexes, the king should reign supreme."

  "Only in chess, my friend, not in bed."

  Though it was most convenient to have Emma on hand to do her hair and entertain the ladies of the Court when they gathered in Velvet's chambers to sample the face creams and cosmetics that she and her woman concocted, she found sleeping alone more than inconvenient. After sharing a bed with Greysteel Montgomery, she found sleeping alone almost impos­sible. She lay awake, hour after hour, as her body ached to be fulfilled. Her skin became so sensitive, the touch of the sheet against her flesh made her want to scream. Yet it wasn't just the sex she missed. She longed to be held, safe in his powerful, protective arms.

  In the evenings the Montgomerys often attended the same Court functions. They were unfailingly polite to each other in company but never spoke or even met in private. Their actions mirrored those of every other married couple at Whitehall and caused little com­ment.

  In the afternoons Velvet, along with the other ladies of the Court, went into London to shop, to have their fortunes read or to attend a performance at the play­house. Greysteel of course had not kept his promise to take her to the theatre, so she pretended it was of no consequence and went without him. She attended with the dowager countess, and also accepted an invi­tation to join His Majesty, Barbara Palmer and Anna Marie Shrewsbury in the royal box.

  That night in the Presence Chamber Barbara remarked, "The king has attended every performance this week. The play holds him in thrall. The novelty will soon wear off."

  “Are you speaking of the novelty of the saucy actresses singing titillating ditties, or the novelty of the dancers baring their pretty legs?" Buckingham asked blandly.

  The costumes were rather revealing, but the girls on the stage were all exceedingly pretty," Velvet con­ceded wistfully.

  "Common as muck," Barbara sniffed. "Promiscuous trollops—half a crown would lay one down."

  "We all have our price," George drawled.

  Barbara's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  George shrugged negligently. "If the shoe fits, cousin—"

  The bloody shoe certainly fits you to a tee. You held on to your vast fortune by marrying the daughter of Fairfax, the Roundhead general who got your land."

  Velvet was shocked. Men were all devious swine, especially when it came to landholdings and estates.

  "Dr. Fraser could give you something for your dis­temper."

  "The Court physician who cured your pox, George?"

  Velvet wished with all her heart they would stop fighting. Witty rejoinders were one thing; vicious slurs were another.

  "Is it any wonder His Majesty is escaping to Epsom this weekend? Two days free of demands will be a wel­come respite."

  Barbara yawned in his face and took Velvet's arm. "Excuse us, George. We need a welcome respite now."

  "It's very warm in here. Would you like some fresh air?" Velvet asked as they walked away from Bucking­ham.

  "Yes, let's get some wine and go out on the bal­cony." George's barb about her demands had found its mark. She wondered if Charles had said something about her, and George was giving her a subtle warn­ing. I refused to sleep with him, so he has no reason to stay in London. Perhaps I should relent.

  They carried their wine out onto the balcony and sat down on a stone bench. "When you want something from Montgomery, what d'you find most effective, vinegar or honey?"

  "Sometimes neither is effective. He likes to be in control." Velvet immediately wished she hadn't con­fided such an intimate thing to Barbara.

  "Yes ... yield a little and allow him to think he's in control. That's very clever." Barbara drained her glass. "Lud, it's even hot out here, and the river stinks tonight. I have an idea. Why don't we take my carriage and drive to Epsom on Saturday? The country seems an inviting alternative to London."

  Velvet agreed. "We could visit my house in Roehampton."

  Charles Stuart and Greysteel Montgomery, astride their favorite mounts, set out from Whitehall late Fri­day afternoon. A coach followed them, carrying the king's body servant, one groom and a footman who was in charge of the food hampers and cases of wine.

  "I thank you for your generosity, Sire," Montgomery said, "but I warrant there's enough food and drink to feed a battalion."

  "Buckingham and Lauderdale appointed them­selves in charge of entertainment for tonight. Lord only knows how many they'll bring. I suspect George has a surprise up his sleeve."

  "Foolish me to think cards and dice would suffice. They seem an odd pair of conspirators with such dis­parate tastes. I can't wait to see the results of their col­laboration."

  They arrived at Roehampton in less than an hour and when Mr. Clegg emerged from the stables and re­alized that the king accompanied Lord Montgomery, he was struck dumb.

  "His Majesty has brought a groom, Alfred, so let him take care of the carriage horses. We're off to Epsom races tomorrow."

  Greysteel took Charles up to the house. "This Eliza­bethan manor is charming. How did you acquire the place?"

  "I bought it from the Dowager Countess of Devon­shire."

  "Odds fish, that family never relinquishes an acre once they get their hands on it. Yet you have managed to collect two of their properties. I assumed the ani­mosity between you and Lord Cav was over a lady. Now I see it's Roehampton."

  Montgomery shrugged. "I fear it is both, Sire."

  Bertha Clegg met them at the door. She recognized the king immediately and sank into a reverent curtsy. She simpered like a young girl when he gallantly kissed her hand.

  Montgomery gave the king his own master bedchamber that had a view of the gardens and lake, and took his own things to a chamber at the front of the house that overlooked the driveway. Bertha followed him into the room, and began to wring her hands. "You mustn't worry about anything, Mrs. Clegg. His Majesty has his own body servant, who will make up the bed with the king's royal linen. A footman is on his way to the kitchens with a dozen food hampers. Come downstairs with me now and tell him where you want everything."

  Within the hour, Buckingham and Lauderdale rode in, accompanied by a huge berlin coach. When they opened its doors, half a dozen pretty girls, wearing scanty costumes, spilled out. The still country air was stirred by excited laughter and nervous giggles as the females were ushered into the manor's great hall.

  "I bring you these lovely singers and dancers from the Drury Lane Theatre," Buckingham said with
a flourish. "We lured them with an invitation to perform privately for their royal patron. But as you see, ladies, that was a blatant lie. This gentleman only resembles His Majesty. His real name is Mr. King."

  The actresses squealed and made elaborate curtsies. Since Charles had been at the theatre every afternoon for a week, they recognized him immediately.

  "Well done, Mr. Duke, Mr. Scot." His usual satur­nine look vanished. "Would you lovely ladies intro­duce yourselves?"

  A chorus of "Meg," "Moll," "Nan," "Kitty" and "Dolly" issued forth.

  Charles held up his hand as he gazed with appreci­ation at a fair-haired creature with long legs. "This ravishing gamine is Rachel Rose. Your dancing enchants me, mistress."

  "Thank you, Mr. King."

  Everyone in the room laughed, except Montgomery. The corners of Charles's mouth lifted. "Would some­one get Mr. Grey a drink? It might whet his appetite tor a little levity."

  Montgomery threw up his hands and banished the thunderous look from his brow. "Clearly, I am out­numbered."

  "Ma appetite's ravenous. Let the fun an' games begin!" The red-haired Scot's accent thickened notice­ably as he sat down and pulled one of the females onto his knee.

  "I know you are all eager, but before you perform the acts you do best, could we have a song?" Bucking­ham asked wickedly.

  Soon the great hall was filled with laughter as the young women sang the naughty ditties that were de­lighting London audiences and the men joined in the chorus of "Cuckolds All Awry," "The Battle Of The Sexes" and "The Virgin's Lament."

  When Rachel Rose re-created the dance she did on the stage, kicking and twirling to reveal her long, lithe legs, Moll chanted:

  She's got a trick to handle his prick,

  But will never lay hands on his scepter!

  The next four hours were spent eating, drinking, singing and laughing. Occasionally, Mr. Duke or Mr. Scot would disappear with one or sometimes two of the ladies to presumably indulge other appetites, but Mr. King and Mr. Grey were content to look and listen. At midnight the nymphs were helped into their coach and sent on their way, each richer by five gold crowns. Rachel Rose, however, remained behind.

  "We bid you good night, gentlemen." The king took Rachel by the hand and led her upstairs for a com­mand performance.

  Montgomery picked up half a dozen empty bottles and took them to the kitchen. "Mrs. Clegg, I told you to retire hours ago."

  "I couldn't leave you with a mess, yer lordship."

  "My friends are not as considerate. Off you go, Bertha. The king's servants and I will clean it up."

  "Your matched team of white carriage horses is magnificent, Barbara. Wherever did you find them?" Velvet asked as her friend's coach rolled smoothly along the Richmond Road.

  "They were a gift from the king. Because of their unique color, all Londoners recognize my coach and make way for me."

  "We are making very good time. I believe the Epsom races don't begin until afternoon."

  "That will allow us to spend an hour at Roehampton. I shall need to use the garderobe. I pee at the drop of a hat, these days." She took out her hand mirror. "I'd also like to freshen up my toilet so that I look my ravishing best."

  Velvet had chosen an eye-catching outfit that com­plemented her bright hair. She wanted to stand out from the crowd and make sure that Montgomery no­ticed her. The emerald green jacket was tight fitted. Her voluminous skirt was rustling taffeta and she brought a wide-brimmed hat, decorated with ostrich feathers and green ribbon, to shade her delicate com­plexion from the sun.

  The carriage stopped and the driver asked for di­rections.

  It's about a mile farther. To your right, you'll see a long driveway that leads to the manor," Velvet in­structed.

  In a few minutes the carriage slowed, then turned. Velvet gazed with appreciation at the rolling pastures. "Here we are. I love this place. I always feel that it wel­comes me."

  Montgomery arose early, as he did every day of his life. Though he knew Charles was an early riser, often taking a brisk walk through St. James's Park at sunrise, he realized that the king would stay abed this morn­ing.

  Greysteel shaved and completed his ablutions quickly, so that the bathing room was free for the oth­ers to use. He returned to his chamber to dress and heard the king's servants moving about in the room next to his.

  He was relieved that last night's entertainment was over and done, and looked forward with anticipation to the races on Epsom Downs. Horses were a passion of his. I hope the weather stays fine. He crossed to the window to look for clouds.

  Montgomery's brows drew together as he saw a carriage coming up the long drive. Who the hell is this? he wondered with annoyance. If we'd wanted others, we'd have invited them. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he recognized the white horses. A foul curse dropped from his lips as he strode from the room and entered the one next door without knocking. He spoke to the king's body servants. "Good, you're dressed. His Majesty will need your services immediately." He di­rected them into the room he'd just vacated and crossed the hall to the master bedchamber.

  Montgomery gave the door a perfunctory tap, but didn't wait for an invitation. He was relieved to see that the king's eyes were open, though the female in bed beside him was sound asleep. "Sire, Barbara's here! Her coach is on the driveway. Someone must have told her you were staying here."

  Charles threw back the covers. "Odds fish, she'll go mad! Have you ever heard one of Barbara's tirades?"

  "I'll take your place here, Sire. Your gentlemen await you in the chamber across the hall." He hastily gathered the king's garments and thrust them at Charles. "Don't forget these."

  As the door closed behind the king, the female in the bed stretched, yawned and opened her eyes.

  "Good morning, Mistress Rose. An early storm threatens. I pray you go back to sleep until it has passed."

  Chapter 20

  Velvet opened the front door and led the way into Roehampton's great hall. "We don't have a staff of servants, just a housekeeper." As she glanced about, she received an impression that something was differ­ent. The furniture and cushions seemed out of place and a strange scent lingered in the air.

  "Do make yourself at home, Barbara." She set her hat on a hall table and opened a mullioned window. Then she raised her eyes and stared at the oak beams overhead that were creaking. She listened intently and thought she heard muffled sounds.

  Barbara heard them too. "There is someone up there, unless you have a ghost."

  "It must be Mrs. Clegg." Velvet went to the foot of the stairs. "Bertha," she called softly, and went up to investigate. When she arrived in the upper hall, she saw that all six bedchamber doors were closed. She thought it strange, since they usually stood ajar when the rooms were unoccupied. She turned the knob on her own chamber door and it swung silently open.

  She stared at the tableau before her in disbelief. Her husband was standing silently beside their bed. A naked female with disheveled blond curls lay amid the tumbled covers. "Dear God," Velvet murmured as she recognized the dancer from the theatre. As if she were in a trance, Velvet stepped back from the scene and quietly closed the door. Stunned, like a bird flown into a wall, she slowly descended the staircase.

  Barbara, intent upon adjusting her garters, didn't look up. "Was it a burglar, ransacking the place?"

  Velvet didn't even hear the footsteps behind her.

  The king descended the stairs in stocking feet, wearing a lace shirt and breeches. "Not a burglar, but definitely a knave."

  "Charles!" Barbara cried with delight.

  "To what do I owe this pleasure, my dearest lady?"

  "I missed you so much, I decided to surprise you and attend the races. I hadn't the least idea you would be at Roehampton."

  Charles bowed gallantly to Velvet and saw her bloodless lips. "Lady Montgomery, I shall be forever in your debt for the generous hospitality of Roehamp­ton."

  Velvet stood rigid as a pillar of salt, feeling faint, but willing h
er legs not to collapse, as the king's body ser­vant came downstairs carrying Charles's coat and sword. The footman followed with the king's red-heeled shoes. "I shall see about breakfast, Sire." Both servants headed to the kitchen.

  Charles took Barbara in his arms and kissed her. "This is splendid. We shall all attend the races to­gether."

  Velvet flinched as she heard footsteps on the stairs. It was Buckingham, elegantly groomed as always. "Ladies adore surprises; gentlemen abhor them."

  "I see no gentlemen," Velvet said coldly, and went outside.

  The little bride's wit is as sharp as her tongue. I wonder what has upset -her?" The situation vastly amused Buckingham.

  Barbara laughed. "Obviously you, George. Not everyone can abide the sight of you this early in the day."

  Lauderdale lumbered down the stairs, unkempt as rfways.

  "Speaking of sights," Buckingham drawled.

  Charles and Barbara laughed. George joined in, though he was laughing at them rather than with them.

  Velvet put one foot in front of the other and found herself at the stables. If I'd come here first, I'd have seen their horses and been warned. An inner voice argued. You're wrong! Nothing could have warned you for what you found.

  She went into Raven's stall and leaned her forehead against the animal's warm neck. Her eyes flooded with unshed tears. Don't cry! Don't you dare cry!

  "He doesn't love me anymore."

  Mayhap he never loved you.

  "Then why did he marry me?"

  It was the king's wish, not Montgomery's. The thought was a revelation. An icy hand gripped her heart. Be­cause Greysteel owned Bolsover Castle, Charles had ordered him to marry her so that technically it would be back in the Cavendish family and there would be no breach between her father and the king.

  Velvet didn't know what to do. She wanted to sad­dle Raven and ride back to London, but running away would be the coward's way out. Timidity and panic were contemptible signs of weakness. Far better to summon her bravado, take a horsewhip, march up­stairs and have a knock-down, drag-out fight with the unfaithful bastard. She'd create a scene they'd never forget.