He turned his thoughts to ships and cargoes, putting aside his letter for a time. He thought of the merchandise coming into port from Virginia and scribbled a few figures, but his imagination turned to sultry brown eyes, moist with emotion. He looked to the chair where she had sat and then to the door, as if replaying the scene in his mind. No, he had no time to be bound to petticoats, to be led around by the nose by a female. Why were there no windows in this room? With a growl he was on his feet and pacing about the confining space.
It hadn’t been like this in years. He couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind. She was always posturing before him, the patient princess, the goddess of purity. He simply didn’t have time to toy with her now, courting her and leading her to parties and plays. He didn’t need a woman in his life, he never had. Even when he had Anne he was too busy worrying about supporting her to enjoy the pure pleasure of loving her. Chelynne would just have to wait.
But she wasn’t waiting, even if that was what he intended her to do. She was here, at his command, ever under his nose and around his house. He heard her rise in the mornings and go to bed at night. She sought out his approval on every matter and struggled not to bring a slight to his name through her innocence and lack of worldly knowledge. It was difficult to ignore someone who wanted to please so desperately.
Chad turned his thoughts to his son, to his dead wife, to any escape from the emotion that was building up in him. There was no respite for him there any longer. He would never stop loving Anne, but she had been gone for a long time and he had begun to see he could never have her back. And instead of seeing a poor, slighted son, he had a vision of a boy without a mother finally acquiring one. He saw Chelynne sitting on the grass, looking more natural in simple garb than in her burdensome gowns and bone stays. She was laughing with a small boy, letting the sweet simplicity of her love lead him as perfectly as a natural mother’s love would.
The boy in the vision vanished from his mind and he was faced again with the seductive beauty of his wife in another setting. He saw her rising from her bath, waking from her sleep, playing with her puppy.
“Hell,” he thought. “If it’s come to that, so that I cannot even put my mind to business, it’s better if I take her and have my fill. Then perhaps I can think.”
But he stopped short with a startling conclusion. He had put her aside for so long, declared his indifference for so many months that he didn’t even know how to approach her. Go to her like a dumbstruck lad and tell her he couldn’t wait any longer? Frighten her and take her quickly, having her despise the thing and him? In avoiding her, his actions had been harsh and almost cruel. How to undo that now?
He sat and thought heavily. He tried to figure in his mind when he could take her out of the city. He and John had hoped the spring would resolve the matter of Bratonshire, but it could be years actually, depending on how clever Shayburn was. If he could take Chelynne home to Hawthorne House and bring his son, he could explain what business and problems had beset him. In the quiet of the country he could seduce her and lead her gently where he meant to have her. It was not a matter of trusting her; giving her information now might in fact injure her. She could not inadvertently tell what she didn’t know.
He set his mind. It seemed to be in his best interest to begin smoothing over his harshness and bringing her closer to him now. He had burned some very important bridges and must begin busily rebuilding. He was a very practical man. He didn’t have to love her. She was comely and gentle, almost exactly what he would have chosen himself for a bride. Whoring had never quite helped him and he had long ago realized that a lasting relationship was better for his needs. He could claim this one and be content. It would make for a comfortable situation.
He never considered that he needed the ease she could bring to set aright something within him that had been troubled for too many years. He never considered love.
He plopped his wig on his head and took up his coat. He would delay no longer. Even in this, in seeking out his young bride to begin something between them, he acted the part of a determined businessman.
Stella confirmed that Chelynne had gone to the theater and he would find her there. Just as he was leaving his house a young boy approached him. There was a message for him from Bess. He dropped a few pence in the lad’s hand and read the thing. It was the name of a tavern and a time. John. But he still had time to deal with Chelynne, and went quickly.
It was as if fate itself would play against him when he set out. Going into the theater he met Gwen. She was on the arm of a young gallant whom she abandoned at once in spying Chad.
“How grand to see you, my lord. I swear your company has been sorely missed of late. I was about to send word to you. Pray sit with me and let us have a chat.”
“I believe the countess is expecting me, Gwen. Another time, perhaps.”
“I’ve a matter that should interest you,” she wheedled.
“I can’t imagine what that would be,” he returned flatly.
Gwen sensed her advantage slipping and flaunted her knowledge straightaway. “I’ve made a good friend of your wife’s cousin. It seems he has something of yours.”
Chad’s brows arched in surprise that was wholly genuine. Gwen was a beguiling little sorceress. He had been watching her sashay her charms between dukes and earls for years; it shouldn’t have surprised him to learn that she could condescend to the likes of Mondeloy for something she wanted. In truth, she spread herself so thin over plots and affairs he couldn’t imagine how she kept them all straight.
It was a time when he didn’t want to be seen in her company, didn’t want to be bothered with playing her games, but he was trapped. If he didn’t find out what she knew now he might have missed his only opportunity. Gwen was coy. He gestured with his eyes toward his coach and she shook her head negatively. He offered his arm as an alternative and she walked with him into the theater.
From where they sat Chad could see his wife. She was in very impressive company and he hoped to get out of the theater before Chelynne saw him with Gwen.
“What is it you wish to tell me?”
“The matter does disturb you,” she said with a smile. “I was so disappointed, darling, that you never confided in me.”
“We were never so close as you would have the world believe, Gwen. There is nothing I wished to tell you that I did not.”
“You have dealt with me quite cruelly, my lord,” she said with a strained whisper, her eyes gleaming angrily. “At every turn of the hand you have thrown out your insults in the presence of family and friends. There was a time when I thought you cared for me! If you can think of a time when I have done you some injury, I pray you tell me now so I may make amends. I cannot tolerate your hostility any longer.”
“At present a very important matter comes to mind. You have knowledge to share and yet you toy with me.”
“I thought to help you come by that paper you desire! You would cheapen my meagerest attempt at reconciliation.”
“How can you help me?”
“You know that I can,” she said, turning her eyes away from him.
He conceded. She could wheedle information out of anyone with her charm and quick thinking. He had no admiration for her morals or methods but he gave her credit where it was due for getting what she wanted. Especially from a man.
“And what do you want in return?”
She stiffened. There was visible hurt in her eyes. “There is nothing more to consider, my lord. I’m quite unwilling to share my confidences with you. Go, seek out another gutter trollop to do your bidding. I’ll have no more of you.”
“Gwen,” he said softly. “Admit to me at least that I have some small reason to doubt your earnest. You’ve not played the coyest of maids nor have you treated my wife and marriage with much respect. Now you would have me believe you simply wish to help me?”
“I loved you!” she bit out, tears showing in her eyes. “Can you blame me for seeking to share something of your lif
e even though you sought out another name, no greater than my own, to take the position of your wife? Was it so kind that you sampled my affections at will, swearing you could not marry, only to seek out Miss Hoity-Toity to wed? A wench you didn’t even know.” She laughed bitterly. “From anyone else it would much befit the standard, but you—” She shook her head dismally. “I thought you were different.”
How convincingly brokenhearted she was, Chad thought appreciatively. Had he not been desperate to know what information she held he would have risen and applauded. Or at least reminded her of the great number who had occupied his position in her life and asked how he should know he was special to her. She was a superb actress. Another man might be on his knees begging for forgiveness for so brutally abusing her honor. But Chad had known Gwen for a long time. He had even witnessed a similar play for her husband when she sought to placate him. If there was enough sensitivity beneath her cover to really feel that kind of hurt, he would be truly amazed. He could almost believe that she at least thought herself to be in love with him; she responded to him totally. It was more likely bitterness at having not achieved something she thought due her for her sacrifices. Yes, she could help him, her acting ability being above that of the whole company who at this moment entertained the king. He would play this game to whatever end.
“Gwen, I’m sorry that you’ve been hurt. You should have taken me at my word when I said we would never marry. I am married now at my father’s insistence and it cannot be changed.”
“Had there been time to think the matter through I would have used better taste. But your animosity, your cruelty! How could I understand? How could I ease the hurt when you never turned a nice word to me?”
“Then I’ll take blame where it’s due. I should have come to you and explained the circumstances, but I considered Lord Graystone. Let us leave it alone. Henceforth you must not seek to injure the countess as you have. She is inexperienced here. She considers marriage a sacred institution.”
“And you?”
“I?” He smiled and ran his eyes over her slowly, noting as he did so that she relished the close scrutiny. She was so unbelievably brazen that he almost lost sight of his goal and laughed out loud. There was a spark deep within him urging him to curb his instincts briefly and enjoy her for exactly what she was. She would yield to him instantly.
But disgust filled him at the thought. It had long been his curse that he could not separate the personality from the body. He couldn’t gain enough satisfaction from her sensuality without some appreciation for her character. Thus, Anne, and now, he thought with some surprise, Chelynne. But hiding his true feelings, he faced her and met her eyes. “I have always done what suits me, Gwen. I thought you understood that.”
“I had begun to wonder. You play the gallant husband so well.”
His wife would beg to differ, he thought. But there was truth enough to that. Not many thought his blase treatment of his wife out of place. It was the way here. “Do you honestly think I take any obligation lightly?” he asked her. “I play the husband when it suits me, as it suits me. Now, that paper. Will Mondeloy turn it over to me?”
“He plays with the thought. He seeks compensation, but I’ve not been able to learn his plan.”
“The very fact that he has it proves he’s had a hand in murder. Does he have no fear of the penalty?”
“None. He has covered his tracks well. He claims to have purchased his parcel from a highwayman and his friends will swear they rode with him. But no one has seen the thing. It is hidden and I have no idea where. Did you know, my lord, that he was playing the innocent guest in your own home when he rode out one day and came back the next with the paper on his person? For a long while he housed it with you.”
“I was able to deduce that much, from the date of the priest’s slaying.” And he had been able to deduce something more. The knowledge of his marriage, of the missing record, was not widespread. Gwen couldn’t have stumbled across the information, he cautioned himself. She had sought out Mondeloy, likely hoping to find something to deal with, something she could use to hurt Chelynne or himself.
“He has planned carefully,” she commented. “But he has confided in me and it will not be long before I see the thing. Mondeloy will not be injured if I’m able to carry out my plan...but then neither will you.”
“I would hear of this plan,” he said.
“Not here. Not now. I have been foolish to say so much surrounded by ears that are not deaf. Come, take me home and I will speak to you there.”
“Gwen,” he groaned. “Let me come later. My wife is expecting my company.”
“No, she isn’t. That group,” she said pointing to the king’s party, “plans a visit to the Fox and Hounds to sup.”
Momentary shock revealed itself in Chad’s expression. He was to meet John a short distance from there and it was not a safe part of town. He was painfully aware that nobles often frequented inns and taverns of poor quality for sport, but he didn’t like the idea of Chelynne going there.
“I think I shall have the countess delivered home before that party begins.”
“I swear she couldn’t be in safer company,” Gwen argued. “Who would accost the king? There are escorts aplenty.”
“Not always,” Chad muttered. He knew of more than one occasion when Charles had gone into the city without the star and garter, without royal robes and guards, supping and drinking with the common folk and never being recognized until the adventure was at an end. It was usually the day after when the rumors went wild and Charles confessed.
“Are you not included in that adventure?”
“I would not be missed,” she replied. That admission was humbling to Gwen. She would greatly love to have arrived at a position where her presence would be depended on if not commanded. But that did not interest her now. She had come to learn that one duke’s night of love and many promises meant little at morning’s light. She was growing old. She had tired of the court life, finding it constantly ambiguous and undependable. She set her sights on a more permanent arrangement. Any way she could connive it would suit her fine.
Chad nodded his head in assent and they left quickly. He wanted this business done with haste.
People wandered in and out of the theater. Being seen and seeing was the great fascination; the play was a secondary consideration. He was just handing Gwen into the coach when his arm was brushed by someone passing. He turned to find himself eye to eye with the earl of Rochester and there, on his arm, was Chelynne. He looked around. There was the entire party: Charles and Louise, Chelynne, Rochester and others. He was trapped.
He first bowed to his sovereign and rose to see the king’s lazy eyes drifting past him and into the coach where Gwen sat. Chelynne’s wide eyes confirmed that she, too, made that observation. His circumstance could not have been more embarrassing had he been naked.
Left without recourse, he bowed over Chelynne’s hand and brushed his lips there with a great show of courtesy. “Did you enjoy the play, madam?”
She forced a smile for the many onlookers and held her little chin in the air. “I did, sir. And you?”
“Most certainly,” he answered, though he hadn’t seen a thing on the stage. “I’ve chanced to meet my lady Graystone and there is a matter of some business I must speak to her about.” His complexion darkened somewhat as a hum went through the crowd. He would have preferred standing there in the buff to putting Chelynne through this sham. But his eyes glowed proudly as he observed his wife’s sweet smile and gracious manner. She laid a possessive hand on his arm and her words seemed almost sincere.
“Of course, my lord. Perhaps you’ll be free later.”
He was amazed by her poise and dignity. His eyes warmed. “I assure you, it is a matter of business I will conclude as quickly as possible.”
There was a grunt and then a coughing from the king, the man who invented this inane game. Chad turned to see the twinkle in the man’s eyes, but Chelynne gave it no regard
. “I await your pleasure, my lord.”
She curtsied, flashed him a soft, sweet smile that caught at his heart and tore at it a little, melting every sliver of ice that had shrouded him for years. He watched her walk away on the arm of Rochester, her chin high as she nodded and smiled to their audience. Snickers ran through the crowd as if they had all just witnessed an adultery. Charles threw one last look over his shoulder at the earl of Bryant. Chad could read the expression as if it had been written in script for him to study. The king thought him a complete fool. The king was absolutely right.
Through some manipulating that was not very difficult, Rochester managed to get himself quite alone with the countess of Bryant in his coach. The moment the horses started he turned to her. “God’s bones, darling, but you’ve a lovely handle on things. Is it possible you and the earl have an understanding in your marriage?”
She smiled, though tears stung her eyes, and replied softly. “Did you suspect otherwise, my lord? I would say it’s obvious to the world now.”
“It seems so. Lord, sweetheart, it’s not a common thing, that’s all.”
“Why, there’s little reason to go about sneaking and spying when two people are of like mind, don’t you agree?”
“Of course I do, but there’s still a great deal of fuss over the smallest fornications, darling.”
She refused to show her pain. “Of course we could battle over such things and be miserable. Would that be better?”
Rochester chuckled. “So, he does not fight over your honor?”
“My lord, he does care for my welfare! I didn’t say there were ill feelings between us! Should I inform him of some abuse he would do whate’er he must. What I do of my own is unchallenged.”
“So very simple,” Rochester murmured, a new warmth to his usually light and humorous voice.
“Did you witness any hostility between His Lordship and me?”
“Indeed no.”
“Then you may take me at my word. That is our way.” She turned from him to look out the window, a pain gnawing at her stomach and her throat feeling parched from strangling the cry that would fight its way out. A pretty set of lies, she thought bitterly. What choice was left her? To blanch and faint from the display she witnessed? To shriek in rage and tear the whore’s hair out by the roots? Nothing but mock dignity could save her; and in saving herself she freed her husband to his mistress.