"Pressure was brought to bear and he finally agreed on condition he be allowed to keep his freedom and Mistress Chatterton. He left me with his family in Derbyshire and didn't return until I was old enough to bear him a son and heir. With that accomplished, he returned to King James's dissolute Court, where he lived the life of a brawler, a spendthrift and a rake.
"When James Stuart died and his son Charles became king, the licentious Court was purged of its catamites, and immorality was frowned upon. Suddenly, I became the valued wife and chatelaine as William lavishly entertained the new king and queen. That's when Queen Henrietta Maria and I became friends.
"By the time his father died, William had borrowed so much against his inheritance that he was deeply in debt. His solution was to sell valuable Cavendish land. Fate intervened to prevent him from doing such a reckless thing. My husband died of excessive indulgence and left me to pay the bills."
"Whatever did you do?" Velvet asked in a whisper.
"I closed up this house, stopped the lavish entertainments, dismissed an army of servants and gradually cleared up the debts. The lawsuits brought against me were settled in my favor, thanks to the queen. I shall be forever in her debt."
"You were such a young widow. Why did you never remarry?"
"Now we come to the point of my story. If any man had looked at me the way Montgomery looked at you today, I would have grabbed him in a minute. Unfortunately, no man ever did. Velvet, you seem unaware of your devastating attraction. Few women are gifted with that indefinable essence that is irresistible to the male of the species. Your great-grandmother Bess Hardwick had it. She married four husbands and had each one wrapped around her fingers."
"Four husbands?"
Christian nodded. "By the time she was thirty-five." She took a leather-bound book from a cabinet. "Here is one of her journals I found at Oatlands. I think you should have it."
"Thank you... I will treasure it."
Christian patted her hand. "Far more important to read it, darling, preferably before Wednesday."
As Velvet readied herself for bed she couldn't get the things Christian had told her out of her mind. Her husband had brought her nothing but unhappiness and humiliation. Men cannot be trusted. They are never satisfied. Not only do they insist their wives bring a noble name and a substantial dowry to the marriage; they demand utter faithfulness as well. They don't apply this standard to themselves, of course. Men consider it their God-given right to keep a mistress outside their marriage.
Velvet thought of her father. She had revered him all her life and had been convinced he loved his wife and family with his whole heart. When he quickly remarried, her illusions had been shattered. Her father had betrayed her mother. It was obvious that he had been having a liaison with Margaret Lucas while his wife was alive. Women are fools to trust men.
Velvet climbed into bed and began to read Bess Hardwick's journal. She caught her breath over some of the audacious things her great-grandmother had written. After two hours, she set the book aside. She was beginning to see Bess in a new light. Here was a woman who set her own rules. She took control of her life and the men around her, rather than allowing them to have the upper hand.
Velvet thought about Greysteel Montgomery. Unbidden, he had appeared in her dreams for years, yet the flesh and blood man he had become far exceeded her dream version. Does he truly find me attractive or does he have an ulterior motive? She knew he was dominant and liked to be in control. Perhaps he is determined to become my husband simply to thwart our fathers. Deep inside, she didn't want this to be true. She wanted Montgomery to lose his heart to her.
If I could make him want me for myself would I marry him? The thought made her shiver deliciously and she realized how vulnerable she was to the dark, attractive devil. To protect herself Velvet lifted her chin and declared aloud, "It would be a marriage without love—Charles Stuart owns my heart."
She remembered what Charles had said: Little innocent! I cannot afford the luxury of love. She thought of Bess's surefire advice for enslaving a man: All you have to do is keep him off-balance by luring him with one hand while rejecting him with the other! Velvet smiled a secret smile.
Montgomery had a successful business day. At the London Wool Exchange he sold half the spring shearing at a higher rate per pound than the Montgomerys had ever received before. The price of wool was going up and he gambled that next week he'd get an even better price for the bales, which were stored in the warehouse.
Tuesday he visited Samuel Lawson at the Temple and, on the goldsmith's advice, bought some shares of the Bermudas Company, a New World venture. He returned to his office to write a letter to his father and a business report to their steward.
Shortly after he finished, he had a visitor. The man, no older than himself, had a weathered complexion, a wiry build and sharp eyes. Here is my courier from General Monde
"Montgomery? Pleased to meet you, sir. A mutual acquaintance suggested I might be of service to you."
Greysteel detected a twang in his voice, but it didn't sound Scottish. "Of service to me?"
"I specialize in communication."
There was no way Montgomery would turn over the letter until he had proof that he was the expected courier. "Does this mutual acquaintance have a name, sir?"
"Mr. Burke, though I'd deny it under torture," the young man said with a grin. "Royalists need to be cautious."
Montgomery, caught slightly off guard, suddenly recognized the accent. "You are from the Isle of Jersey?" He knew that Carteret, the governor of Jersey, was a staunch Royalist.
"Seaman Spencer, quartermaster of the frigate Proud Eagle, anchored at Blackfriars. There's usually a Carteret vessel somewhere in the Thames ready to make a swift run across the Channel with a confidential communication."
Montgomery grinned. "When they're not stalking a Dutch merchantman or sinking one of Cromwell's fleet! I thank you for your offer, Spencer. I may avail myself of your services."
"We sail on the midnight tide, tomorrow night."
That same night, after dark, Monck's man arrived. He wore the military uniform of a Parliamentarian and presented a letter authorizing him to act as courier. There was no signature, but the letter bore the official seal of the City of Edinburgh.
Montgomery unlocked the desk drawer and took out the sealed letter. Reasoning that the courier was not privy to the cipher, he wrote General George Monck beside the sealing wax, then handed it over. After the courier left, he locked the door and put out the light. As he sat in the dark, he thought long and hard about writing to Charles Stuart. With resolution he made his decision. Tomorrow midnight—I don't have much time.
On Wednesday morning, Greysteel made another visit to the secondhand shop. In the afternoon he leased the mineral rights to half of his Derbyshire property at five times the amount he could get for grazing rights. The contract included a clause that the lease be renegotiated whenever the price of coal went up. Pleased with himself, he returned home to bathe and change before he went to dinner in Bishopsgate.
Montgomery was filled with eager anticipation at the thought of seeing Velvet Cavendish again. He was convinced that Destiny was smiling upon him. Fate had not only returned her to London but had also arranged for their paths to cross.
He had thought of her many times since the day of their betrothal, of course, when he'd been convinced her angelic face masked an imp of Satan. By the time he had risen to the rank of captain, in charge of young army recruits, he had become quite knowledgeable about human nature. Extreme bravado and cockiness were devices young males used to mask their fear and insecurity. It dawned on him, when Velvet insinuated herself into his dreams on a regular basis, that she used precocious behavior and willful defiance to cover a delicate and fragile vulnerability.
Montgomery knocked on the door of the Bishopsgate house promptly at six and stood waiting in the black-and-white marble reception hall while the butler went off to announce his a
rrival to the dowager countess.
Christian arrived in less than five minutes. He felt immediate disappointment that Velvet did not accompany her. As he and Lady Cavendish exchanged pleasantries, he tried to control the impatience that was building inside his chest. Where is she? Surely she isn't refusing to dine with me? Greysteel felt awkward holding the roses he'd brought and finally, reluctantly, good manners forced him to present them to the dowager.
"How lovely. Do come into the sitting room."
Montgomery followed her and sat in the chair she indicated. The moment he was seated, he shot to his feet again as Velvet entered the room. She was wearing a simple white dress and tonight she had left off her cap. He could not take his eyes from her glorious hair. He put his hands behind his back so he would not be tempted to touch her. "Mistress Cavendish."
Velvet was testing advice she'd read in Bess's journal: I always keep a man waiting long enough to make him anxious, but never long enough to make him angry. She felt she'd succeeded. Greysteel was staring at her hair as if mesmerized and she knew that Bess had been right again: If left uncovered, my red hair holds a special fascination for men.
Christian placed the two dozen roses in her arms. "I'm sure these flowers were meant for you, darling."
Velvet gazed down at the dark crimson blooms and was transported back to the garden at Nottingham Castle. The roses were the exact same color as the one that had inspired her to choose the name Velvet. She glanced up quickly and saw by the light in his intense grey eyes that he had chosen them deliberately to invoke the memory of that day.
"I'll put them in water." She knew she sounded breathless.
The moment she left the room, Greysteel missed her. The countess poured him a glass of wine and one for herself. Though it seemed an eon, Velvet returned shortly and it pleased him that she brought the roses back with her in a crystal vase.
"Would you like a glass of wine, Velvet?"
"Oh, no, thank you, my lady, I've never had wine."
Her words sent Greysteel's imagination soaring. I'll warrant there are many things you've never tasted.
"Have a little so we can toast the king," Christian tempted.
"Oh, yes, I would love to drink to Charles!"
She said the name Charles with such reverence, Greysteel's imagination dropped like a stone. Bloody hell, you've been infatuated with the charming prince since you were a girl. It's time you outgrew such nonsense. They drank to His Majesty's health; then dinner was announced and they carried their glasses into the elegantly appointed dining room. The countess chose to sit at the head of the table. Greysteel held her chair, then moved around to assist Velvet. As he gazed down at her, the swell of her high breasts quickened his blood, yet inexplicably he was pleased that her modest neckline covered her completely. Her innocence is irresistible. He quickly took his seat opposite her so he could gaze his fill.
Greysteel enjoyed the food, yet hadn't the least notion what was served. The countess kept the conversation lively and he responded to the topics of staffing his residence and how he found London after living in the country. He became reticent only when his army service came up. "Fighting a war is a necessary evil. It's never a pleasant subject for ladies."
The conversation moved on to safer ground and he found himself watching Velvet eat. She had a dainty appetite and when she licked her lips like a kitten, he found it arousing. He had the urge to go around the table, slide her into his lap and feed her. He felt himself harden. What the hell is the matter with you, Montgomery? Control yourself!
"I have arranged for a special dessert,” Christian announced. "I'll just go and see if it's ready."
Greysteel immediately realized the countess was giving them an opportunity to be alone and he silently blessed her. He got up, moved around the table and sat down beside Velvet. "How is your first taste of wine affecting you?"
She lowered her gaze. "I could say it has no effect at all." She raised her lashes. "But your intense grey eyes have never left me tonight and you know that would be a he."
"Yes." He felt the impact of her emerald eyes. "You feel warm and light-headed and slightly intoxicated."'
"Yes. And you are sure it is more than the wine that is making me feel this way."
"Now you are reading my thoughts," he teased.
"Indeed I am. You too feel warm, light-headed and slightly intoxicated, though it is definitely not from the wine." She paused, luring him on before delivering the setdown. "It comes from your cocksure, high-handed opinion of yourself."
"Well, I'll be damned. I know another one of your secrets. Wine brings out that precocious hellion who lurks beneath your innocence, looking for a chance to escape."
"And I know one of your secrets." She dipped her finger into her wine and licked it. "You still want to tan my arse."
Christian returned with a tray. "I have a flagrant fondness for strawberries and cream." She watched Greysteel move away from Velvet and return to his chair. "I am so glad that you have decided to settle your differences."
"No, we haven't." The corners of Velvet's mouth lifted in a challenging smile. "We have decided to continue our duel."
As he watched her dip her strawberries in cream and then lick it off, he decided the dessert had been chosen to torture him. He almost groaned out loud.
Christian watched the byplay. Either she read Bess's journal or she's ready to write one of her own!
He lingered for almost an hour after dinner, wanting to stay, yet knowing he must leave. He did not want to go without restaking his claim. The future of England might be uncertain, but Greysteel was sure of one thing: He wanted Velvet Cavendish in his future and he was determined to have her. He stood, reluctantly. "Before I overstay my welcome—"
"You are welcome here any time," Christian assured him.
"You are extremely gracious, my lady. Velvet and I do have differences to settle. I consider us betrothed, but since she does not, I would like your permission to pay court to her."
"You have my permission and now I shall say good night and withdraw so that you may persuade Velvet to give hers."
When they were alone, he closed the distance between them.
Her head went back so she could look up at him. "I know almost nothing about you. I am not ready for courtship."
He lifted a red gold tendril, feeling its silken texture. Then he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Shall I persuade you that you are?" He dipped his head and briefly touched his mouth to hers. Her lips parted in a gasp, as he had hoped, and this time he took full possession. Greysteel looked down at her in wonder. "You have never been kissed before!"
"Yes, I have! No, I haven't......Damn you, Montgomery."
"Your innocence enchants me, Velvet."
Bess was right: The only thing more titillating to a man than experience is innocence.
"Did I persuade you?"
His voice had roughened and it thrilled her. "I'm not ready for courtship, but I'm ready for something," she said faintly. "Perhaps a long sword to keep you at arm's length."
"I am your man, whatever you desire."
"Is that a threat or a promise, Greysteel Montgomery?"
"It is both. You are a saucy baggage, Velvet Cavendish."
After he stabled his horse and paid the hostler for extra oats, it was after ten o'clock when Greysteel unlocked his door at Salisbury Court. Velvet was a delicious distraction and he knew he must put her out of his mind and focus his attention on the task ahead. The Proud Eagle would sail on the midnight tide.
Montgomery locked his desk drawer, put out the lights and left by the back door. Though time was short, he forced himself to walk slowly to make sure he wasn't being followed as he made his way down to Blackfriars and the Thames. He was thankful for the darkness and the fog, which blanketed the river. He did not see the riding lights of the vessel he sought until he was upon her. He heard the anchor chain being pulled up through the hawsehole and knew
she was almost ready to slip her berth.
A sailor was removing a thick cable of rope from a stanchion. Montgomery asked to see Spencer, who appeared within seconds. The seaman drew close, then grinned. "I didn't recognize you. You have a letter for me?"
Greysteel shook his head. He pulled the thick collar of his seaman's rough coat, which he'd bought at the secondhand shop, close about his neck. "I have a passenger for you."
Chapter 5
It was a straight one-night run from the mouth of the Thames Estuary to Ostend. The Proud Eagle sailed past the port and made anchor in a hidden bay farther up the coast at Blankenberge.
When Spencer led Montgomery from the ship and produced a pair of mounts, which would take them to Bruges, Greysteel knew the seaman from Jersey was an old hand at smuggling. It was less than seven miles to the sprawling military camp town where the exiled king had set up his headquarters. When the pair arrived at the stone building that housed Charles Stuart, everyone seemed to recognize Spencer and allowed him to enter. Finally they came to a door with a guard. Spencer gave a password, and like magic, they were ushered into the room.
The swarthy, six-foot man who rose to his feet was much thinner than Montgomery had expected, and far shabbier. The two men stared at each other for a long stretched-out minute, and then Charles's saturnine face broke into a smile. "Odds fish, it is you, Greysteel Montgomery. By the look of things, we are both reduced to paupers." The last time they had seen each other had been at the disastrous Battle of Worcester.
Spencer saw that the king knew the man, and silently withdrew.
"Your Majesty—you may not wish to hear what I have to say, but I feel compelled to say it."