His eyes moved down from hers to the necklace that dropped into the deep V of her gown, and his eyes were dark emeralds of wanting. He took his hands off her shoulders and moved away. "You wear the piece beautifully," he said, his voice more of a mumble than anything.
She watched him in the mirror, and when he turned to look at her again, she smiled at his sultry expression. "Do not fall in love with me, Lord Seavers. I don’t think you could survive it."
He quickly picked up his hat and left her room without a word.
His visits were regularly of that order; his rather sheepish entrance, his struggle for a comfortable way to converse with her, and then, shortly, his discomfort in her presence and his abrupt departure. He would not stay to sup, slept in the house very seldom and only if he entered long after she was asleep, and seemed to deal with their relationship more poorly every time they chanced to meet.
Alicia was not in any way fooled by what was happening within Geoffrey’s mind. His entire plan had gone awry when he fell in love with the woman he was paying to play his wife. His determination to maintain emotional detachment in this business arrangement had failed, and he could not see how to deal with his failure.
The problem was with her daily, and daily she schooled herself in how she would deal with him. Harden yourself, heart, she would think constantly. He may choose to punish himself and deny himself forevermore...and in that there is no room for a lover or a wife.
She had not thought that things could become any more complex than dealing with the truth of her identity and feeling she must stay silent, having seen a woman she believed to be the real Charlotte Bellamy; and being in love with a man who would undoubtedly cast her aside soon. But as she sat in the drawing room fumbling with the needlework she forced herself to do, bigger problems presented themselves in the form of Culver Perry. He was announced by Margaret, but there was no welcome in her voice.
"Shall I send him away?" Margaret asked hopefully.
"No, I’ll have to see him."
"But why, mum? His lordship will not like it, not a bit."
Alicia sighed and pushed the loom away from her. "Bring us something to drink, missus, and let him come in. It’s better knowing what’s on his mind than wondering."
Mrs. Stratton shook her head in complete disagreement, but Lord Perry entered just the same. He put on his courtly show of kissing her hand and posturing about the room a bit, asking how she was liking London, why had she not been about to the theater, whether Bellerose was found to be fitting or falling apart, all questions he seemed to ask with the answers already in his mind.
"The mansion is not fit?"
"Indeed not. It is a shambles."
"A great disappointment to you, no doubt. Tell me, did you remember any of it from your younger days there?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I found I did not, my lord."
"Your father could have made it mighty easy for you had he at least brought you to London before his death, but he did not. The last time you saw your father, how did you find him?"
"I thought he would have a great many more years than he did. His death was quite a shock, for he did not look unwell. When you last saw him, Lord Perry, how did you find him?"
"The same," Perry said, picking up a cup and sipping tea. He peered at her over the cup with the same strange sneer he wore throughout this visit. Alicia knew beyond doubt that he was up to no good, but gave not a clue that she was highly suspicious of his presence. And thanks to Geoffrey’s story about Perry and his sister, there was no need to be overly gracious. She would not be expected to coddle her husband’s enemy.
He set his cup on the small table beside his chair. "I think we may end the game here, lady. You are not Charlotte Bellamy, as we both know."
She raised one brow and smiled. "Who am I, then, milord?"
"I’d give a ransom to remember the name, but without returning to the country and finding the inn, a place I barely remember, I cannot retrieve the name." His smile was cold and calculating. "But I remember well the body."
Her cheeks felt hot, but it was anger and not embarrassment that caused her slight flush. "You will have to leave this house if you are determined to take such a disrespectful course with me."
He laughed outright. "Bright for a tavern wench, love, but you’ll not frighten me away. I’ve come to bargain."
"There are no bargains here," she said, and nearly chuckled to herself as she heard her own words.
"Ask your husband for a ship in my name. That will do for now. I’ll take the half of the booty on one ship that was to be his."
"How is it you claim this as your right?" she asked with calmness she did not feel.
"I know you’re not who you pretend to be."
She picked up her cup and sipped, willing it to be still in her hand. "And how is it you came to this conclusion, my lord?"
He leaned back in his chair. The contest was a good one. Neither would display the slightest trembling to the other. "I stopped at an inn more than a year ago. I was in fact in search of Charlotte Bellamy and, as luck would have it, found her there. True, she’s nothing to you; she’s fat and filthy and has all the grace of a drunk jackass...but to double my luck, I courted a serving wench at the inn for a night or two.
"You looked mighty familiar to me the moment I saw you, but damned if I could place where I’d seen you before. It was you I courted at the inn on my way home to London."
She smiled as if amused by the story. "If you have truly seen a woman claiming to be Charlotte Bellamy and feel certain I am not she, why have you not made your claim to the king? He would be very interested in your story."
"You know why," he said, his frown appearing and his superior smile vanishing. Alicia willingly took the upper hand for the moment.
"Pray explain, milord. I fear I am most confused by your facts."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and a serious, if not angry, look on his face. "Because, my lady, I was betrothed to Andrea Seavers, the wedding to take place soon, when I learned of the Bellamy inheritance. I could not speak for Charlotte because of my contract, but the Seaverses played me false. They had nothing to offer me in a dowry. Andrea was poor, as you were at the inn, but her brother simply laughed at my poor judgment and threatened me regularly with trouble should I fail to support her and treat her well. My position when I found Charlotte at her aunt’s manor was not a good one."
Alicia’s smile was bland and tolerant. "It appears your position is no better now."
"Somewhat, dear. I doubt my crime would be as serious as yours, should I produce Charlotte Bellamy for his majesty."
She shrugged. "I think there is no crime anywhere, except perhaps the uncertainty surrounding Andrea’s death..."
His jaw muscles tensed and his face became red. There was fury in his eyes that caused the pupils to shrink, and his dark brows dropped low over them, making his expression fearful. Alicia steeled herself for whatever would come next. "Did you not say you were betrothed while searching for Charlotte, while lying with some mysterious serving wench? How soon after that affair did Andrea Seavers die in her riding accident with you?"
He popped to his feet. "I will find out who you are, madam, and make you regret that you threaten and taunt me.
"What will you do, Lord Perry? Travel to some inn to learn some wench’s name? Bring a farmer or innkeeper to London to swear I am she?" She leaned back and looked up at him. "Will you tell your king that you sought the hand of Charlotte Bellamy while you were already betrothed to another, and how quickly and mysteriously your betrothed was killed? Who will you say I am? And who will believe you?"
"You forget, bitch. I have Charlotte Bellamy."
Alicia laughed softly. "I believe you told me about this woman you claim is Charlotte." She laughed again, her eyes alive with amusement. "Will you present this fat, dirty, graceless creature at court to discredit me? I know you are fond of thievery, Culver, but I must urge you to find a better way to steal yourself a dowry
, for your plan would surely point you out to be a fool."
"This game you play with me will not last long, madam," he sneered. He stomped toward the sitting room door and turned on her angrily. "For the moment you have stalled me, but I am not stopped. Tell his lordship that I know his secret and will have payment for my silence."
"Tell him yourself," she snapped back.
He nodded with a silent chuckle and a smirk. "You will be more cooperative in time, my dear."
"I do not fear you, Culver. I shan’t make the unfortunate mistake to go riding with you. I already know what you are capable of doing."
He pulled the door open with a jerk and went out, slamming the door behind him. The moment he was gone, Alicia began to tremble and tears threatened to spill. Margaret immediately entered the room to see about her mistress’s condition and was rattled at the upset Lord Perry seemed to have created.
"What’s he done to you, sweetheart? What’s he said?"
"Never mind, Margaret."
"I’ll get his lordship from the—"
"No, missus, you will not!"
"He’s a lazy man, his lordship is, not seein’ to his lady nor to his house. Time’s come for him to protect his wife."
"Missus, I will not beg you to obey me," Alicia said, mouth set and eyes angry. "I will discuss Lord Perry’s visit with his lordship when it is right to do so and you will not call him home!"
Margaret shifted uncomfortably in front of Alicia. It was the very first time the young woman had ever barked orders at her servant. She could not argue further, but her loyalty to Lady Seavers ran so deep and was so protective that she would not answer her with an assent.
"The brandy that is kept in the study for his lordship," Alicia said. "Do you know of it? Bring me a small glass."
"The brandy, mum? You’re sure?"
"I’m sure. If it works for his lordship in his darkest hour, it will surely serve me now."
Eleven
An early morning fog still hung in the air, but by midday the sun shone down on London and the air warmed. The crowds mingled about the docked vessels, while workers hauled their tools and merchants sold their wares.
The Rose dropped her garnish of ropes, sails billowed, and oars moved. She was out of port and on her way, the wind taking her quickly. Within a brace of moments, the Thora was moving away, her solid sides bulging with expectation, her guns sitting like erect antennae in anticipation.
Geoffrey Seavers felt as though his chest would burst as he watched them depart—his first two trading ships setting sail, their destination: New York. He was hopeful they would encounter and attack Dutch vessels en route, sink the blackguards, and bring back their booty. He longed to be aboard, to be present for the first adventure. But there were more ships to ready and his battles had already been many—he could wait for the Patrina to sail.
Seavers stood in good company to watch the departure of the first two vessels of his potential fleet. Charles, his brother James, duke of York, and Buckingham watched the first of a fleet leave the wharves. All the men enjoyed the sight of a new ship going, for her return would bring riches and victories to the English, and to the king and Seavers personally.
"They all bear women’s names," Charles pointed out with a smile. "Fitting. Never is there anything so skilled in fighting, so pleasurable to ride, nor so eager for wealth as a woman."
The men chuckled in agreement, while silently each thought no man knew women so well as Charles. He took them very seriously and then not seriously at all. Charles loved them, pursued them, pampered and ignored them, gave them expensive gifts, listened to their complaints, and bought them off. He could not live without beautiful women, but he never allowed them to become so important that they might interfere with the business of running a country.
"How many more ships are being rebuilt?" Charles asked Seavers.
"Six more, Sire, and the Patrina. She’s ready enough to sail, but I claim that as my ship and she won’t go without me.
"And which of these are to be a part of the royal navy?" James asked.
"All, in event of war."
"The event of war, my lord, is upon us daily," James retorted.
Charles clamped a hand on James’s shoulder and laughed. "I own fifty percent of the booty on these vessels, James. Let’s not tie them up permanently. Seavers sails in occupied waters. He’ll take a few Dutchmen—and bring us valuables as well."
"There will be ships anchored off the coast and ready to sail at the first call, my lord," Seavers told James, prepared to answer to his own commitments. "You need never fear that I am first a merchant and privateer; I pledged my fleet to His Majesty a long while ago, and so it is first for England."
Charles cleared his throat. "Just the same, my lord, let them never be idle creatures. I wish to see them busy, riding the sea and doing their work."
And Seavers nodded then to his king, straddling the fence perfectly, serving James, the naval commander, and the king, whose need was definitely for money and victory.
Charles had been in England now five years and his financial situation was not good. He called himself the poorest king in all Christendom and was no doubt accurate. His flamboyant way of life and the many encounters with the Dutch and Spanish that he had to endure had been costly. He needed several constant sources of revenue and he was pleased with the sum Seavers would supply when he was actively sailing.
"I have not seen Lady Seavers, my lord," Charles began, walking away from the dock and expecting the others to follow, as they did. "Is she well?"
"Quite well, Your Majesty."
"You don’t bring her around, which I suppose is wise, considering the attention she would get."
"On the contrary, Sire, I don’t keep her away from the court. My obligation is first to these ships, and my lady is content to be at home. She was not bred for the court and I fear she worries with her appearance."
"She needn’t. She’s beautiful and well-mannered. I think you are a lucky man."
"Aye, Sire."
"And I am a lucky man, I realize that."
Geoffrey stopped and looked at the king in confusion. "Lady Charlotte is an investment, Seavers. Certainly you realize that."
"Certainly," he said, though he hadn’t.
"Well, good work, my lord," the king said, reaching his coach. "And good luck."
"Thank you, Sire."
Charles looked around before entering his coach. He loved the business of sailing and shipping, but at the moment, with talk of plague and no one quite certain how rampant the disease was, he did not tarry about the wharves. Sailors were known to carry the disease from port to port. "Guard your health," he said, ducking in and allowing York and Buckingham to get in behind him.
Seavers stood, looking out over the water and catching a final glimpse of his lovely ladies, their sails full as his heart. New York, he thought, Africa, the West Indies, Virginia...He loved the thought of what his men and his vessels would procure for him.
He had fought in New Amsterdam, now New York. He had fought off the coast of Africa. He had not lost his taste for fighting, and he’d captained ships before, but they had not been his. And now he employed captains who sailed for him, rode his ships. His legs ached to be on the deck of the Patrina, his flagship, with several others keeping pace, but for what he wanted for his future, this place was better for now; watching them go off to trade and fight.
And later, when there was sufficient money, he would take advantage of the land offered him by the king and build in the Americas. He could import indentured servants from England and Africa and begin a farming and trading industry. He would perhaps be a neighbor to Preston and they would rekindle their friendship and sail and trade together.
The Letty was not in port, but anchored not far from sight. Preston’s brothers did not return to London often, but ships belonging to the Tildens put into port regularly. England was not home now, but it was their port and first allegiance. Yet their family did not have to li
ve, eat, and breathe courtly politics and schemes. He would be glad to remove himself from the English court and seek out adventure in a new land. Indeed, a new life, once he could bring luxuries so hard-earned to a new place.
Before he could stop the fantasies of his future, his own coach entered the shipping area and Rodney climbed down from his seat next to the driver to hand Geoffrey a sealed message. It was Perry’s seal and Seavers frowned as he ripped the parchment to see the scrawl.
A meeting, Lord Seavers, might serve to establish the credibility of your marriage to Charlotte Bellamy.
A flourishing P ended the note. Geoffrey’s eyes blazed. "How did you come by this?" he asked Rodney.
"Delivered by a page, my lord, from Lord Perry. I thought you should see it at once."
"Do you know what this is about?"
"Aye, sir. Lord Perry visited Lady Seavers not long ago and threatened to expose her as an impostor. He instructed her to ask you to put a ship in his name—for now."
"A ship?" he blustered. "For now?"
"Aye, sir."
"And Lady Seavers thought it unimportant enough to keep silent on the matter?"
"Indeed, sir. And I agreed. She informed me of his visit immediately and I have hired a man to watch his moves."
"I should have been told at once. What evidence does he have to hold against me?"
"None, as I can see. I think it fair to say that Lady Charlotte handled him beautifully. She encouraged him to take his tale to the king and showed not an ounce of fear of exposure. He left your house in a very angry mood."
"She encouraged him? Where is her brain?"
"In quite the right place. Perry said that he found Charlotte Bellamy on her aunt’s farm before your betrothal to her was granted. At that time Perry was himself betrothed, to our fair Andrea. I think you’ll agree, sir, Perry cannot speak out against you—it would implicate him in a conspiracy a good deal more serious than yours."
"I should see him..."
"Beg pardon, sir, but I disagree. There seems no point, not so long as he’s being watched. I feel certain he will try to blackmail you, but he will not show his cards. Ignore him. For now."