Rodney carried a tray of food which he nearly dropped when he saw the body on the floor. Alicia watched him as she saw, for the first time, a look of absolute fear on his face.
"What has happened?" he whispered as he studied the broken crockery and the injured man.
"He’s likely as dead of drink as of the blow," Alicia said quite easily. "He meant to do his worst."
Rodney shook his head and kicked the door closed before setting the tray on the table. He knelt by the injured man and opened his eyes and checked his head.
"I thought I’d die of hunger, and now you’ve brought something, I doubt I can eat it. Where have you been?"
"In the common room for the most part, explaining you to Lord Seavers. He had a mite to drink, but when I left him, his condition was not this poor."
"I was afraid this man would take my money," Alicia explained, still uncertain what they should be doing about this situation.
"He wouldn’t have taken your money, lass. This is the man who gave it to you. Geoffrey Seavers."
"God above," she sighed, dropping heavily to the stool by the table. That explained the insults perfectly. He was appraising her to see how she would fit that part they planned for her to play. And judging by his earlier reaction, she didn’t fit the bill. She sighed softly and looked away from the sleeping noble. "I suppose I’ll be on the next coach."
"If luck is with us he won’t remember clearly," Rodney said, rising. "You say he was fairly drunk?"
"Not fairly, sir. He could barely stand without the wall."
Rodney fought to keep from chuckling aloud. "I don’t suppose you could have dropped him so easily were he able to walk."
"Don’t be too certain," she said wryly. She nodded toward him. "Is he drunk often?"
"Seldom. I should have expected this. He was...ah...upset with the circumstance."
"Then he will have none of me?"
"I think he’ll come around to it, lass. He is honest to a fault, and therein lies his problem. Robbing the crown of an inheritance does not sit well with the man. He’s the most loyal man Charles has at the moment."
"You’re wrong, sir," she said very quietly. "He did not find me good enough in any way. He said so."
Rodney stood and looked down at her. Her eyes were lowered and looking at Seavers. She studied his face carefully and it tugged just a bit at her heart. She had not liked his behavior, but he was actually more amusing than frightening. Beneath his thick hair the color of sand and wheat, his closed eyes looked peaceful. They sported thick, dark lashes, but she clearly remembered the green color. They had sparkled with excitement, delight, and fury, all within the short span of time she had dodged his arms. And the arms—though clumsy, as they clutched at her they were not cruel or careless but strong and gentle. Aside from the drunkards who had lunged at her when she served at the Ivy Vine, there had been only one other pair of arms to hold her...and those had been strong and demanding. Culver Perry was at least as handsome, possibly more so, but there was nothing as boyish and comfortable about his face and body.
This man, she thought, is appealing in many ways. He is handsome and strong. And though he had not been kind or compassionate, neither could she be sure that he was vulgar and mean. Perhaps when he was not swelled with drink he could be tractable... even loving.
Her lips curved in a half smile and she felt moisture come to her eyes. What would it be like to have a man like this actually love her?
"Did he hurt you, maid Alicia?" Rodney asked softly.
"No," she whispered. "But ‘tis truth that he said he did not want me for his bargain." She looked up into Rodney’s kindly eyes as her own were quickly welling with emotion. "He said I wouldn’t do at all."
"That was more the ale talking than the man, lass. He’s a bit plagued by the circumstances, but he’s not one to purposely hurt a woman. Even one he does not like." By the way she lowered her eyes, Rodney could see that she could not easily quell her disappointment. She believed the bargain was no longer being offered. "You had your heart set on a fine home and decent clothes."
Alicia looked up at him again, and for a moment she made no response. As she considered his statement, she remembered that her hundred pounds would certainly buy more in the way of lodging and clothing than she might ever have had as a farmer’s wife. That would not be taken from her. But her spirit was drained by yet another rejection. There had been so very many in her short lifetime.
She almost had to laugh at herself. He had stumbled into her room drunk and presumptuous, looking like a criminal, and yet the fact that he found her an unsuitable maid had hurt her. And further recollection made her see that she had not been at all terrified of him but just cautious of his intent. She thought perhaps she had been immediately taken with him. Sometimes she didn’t understand herself at all. He was drunk, outrageous, and insensitive. Had she simply liked his face?
A low moan came from the injured man. "Yes," she said to Rodney. "I had great hopes for the riches you promised me."
The manservant frowned slightly. Her answer lacked a convincing tone. He puzzled at her manner. This did not fit the proud image he had of her. In his mind he suspected that Geoffrey had already pinched at the maid’s heart, even in his clumsy first impression.
He moved to the groaning man and lowered himself to look at him closely. Over his shoulder he addressed Alicia. "Eat something, lass, and have patience with my cloddish master. The game is not played out yet."
With a sigh, she picked up her utensil and stared into the plate of stew.
"Once you have some decent clothes and the benefit of grooming, I wager he’ll thank us both for this opportunity."
She chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful. Then she swallowed and returned her knife to the table top and looked earnestly to Rodney. Her eyes seemed cleansed of misery and held only rueful acceptance. "I’m a foolish wench, sir. I’ve long held to a hope that one day I’d meet someone who would look beyond my poor style of dress and lack of legitimate family name—and still find me suitable." She shrugged and picked up her cup of wine. "I suppose I have proved my ignorance in that."
"The game is not played out," he repeated.
In a section of the city not far from where Alicia waited out her bargain, another young woman paced a small rented room atop a clothier’s shop. Her agitation was more intense than Alicia’s had been, and her furnishings were finer. Although she was a maid alone, she did not flinch at every sound from below. She was preoccupied with her lack of food and drink and her anger was mounting.
The sound of footsteps on the stair colored her face with hopeful anticipation. The unlocked door opened and a sigh of relief escaped her. The tall and handsome man thrust a basket toward her.
A somewhat chubby hand grabbed the basket with eager lust, and without a word, the woman was digging through it, withdrawing bread, meat, cheese, and wine from the inside. She did not labor with the tablecloth and utensils but chewed off a generous bite of cheese and poured herself a full cup of wine from the half-empty bottle. Her gluttonous movements brought a grimace to the man’s face.
"It’s not an easy task to keep you in food and drink," he sneered.
Though her mouth was full and a bit of wine dribbled to her chin, she did not wait to answer him. "You don’t keep me all that well, milord. Hold your complaints or I won’t hold my tongue."
"You know what to say to silence me, Charlotte. I wouldn’t have guessed you knew such designs."
She laughed and her dark curls bounced with the action. "I’m intent on doing as well as I can for myself. That’s all. Lord above, no one else is going to give me anything."
"You stand to gain a great deal this way. Considerably more than you would have in marrying Seavers. It’s plain truth to everyone in London that he wants to get his hand into your pot for his ships. You’d be a pauper with a title in six months."
She swallowed more food than would be allowed a normal throat, and a look of disgust came over her face. She d
id not pause in her feast to answer him, but her expression clearly showed that she would not have been content with such an arrangement.
"I think with a little time on our side we can find a way to reject the king’s proposal of marriage for you without offending him badly. For the moment, I fear, he won’t be too happy with you. When Seavers’s man can’t find you, they’ll all assume you’ve fled the betrothal. We’ll come up with a better story, and you can escape his wrath and perhaps turn his mind toward another suitor." He paused in his oratory and looked at her. He smirked and shook his head. "Madam? Did you hear me?"
"I hear, Culver. Haven’t I already told you that I’d marry you if the king allows?"
"Yes, madam, you did indeed. And I’m counting on you to keep yourself from being swayed by the courtiers. They play a lot of pretty words on attractive young virgins such as you are."
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him. "And you play a pretty word or two, Lord Perry. When you’re sure of me I have no doubt your love may suffer just a mite. Just a mite. So I’ll take my chance on you till you show me I’m foolish." She smiled, and in her teeth there happened to be slivers of meat that detracted from the smile. "I think it may work out, Lord Perry. Unless you’ve lied to me."
"Why would I lie? By the time you’re at court a day you’ll hear from every wagging tongue that Seavers has been hard at work to finance ships. And I? I told you honestly that I need money to back my influence at court, but I’ve no intention of spending it all—only holding it for the influence it gets. And remember, Charlotte, you can cause me a great deal of trouble by spilling the truth about our alliance, but no less than you’d cause yourself. Charles doesn’t have to give you your estate."
"I’m not going to spoil the lot, love," she said, her smile quick and still speckled.
"Good. We’re of like mind."
"Are you staying here the night?" she asked.
"Much as I’d like to, love, I still have a great deal of business before I rest. And I wouldn’t want anyone seeing me with you until you’ve been able to reject Seavers successfully."
"What business? Another woman?"
He smiled devilishly. "I’m counting on your fortune to help, Charlotte, but there’s still quite a lot I can do to improve my lot before we exchange vows." He paused and looked her over, forcing himself to smile. He was not attracted to her, but lying beside her for a brace of years in exchange for a decent amount of money would not pain him much. "I’ll either be here once you’re asleep or in the morning to bring you something to eat. Remember, don’t go out."
"Like yourself, milord, I’ll go where I please. I hadn’t thought you desperate enough to sell favors. Who’re you sleeping with and what’s her title?"
Lord Perry frowned. "I didn’t say I was sleeping with anyone, Lady Charlotte."
"No, you didn’t. And I don’t care who you’re with, but don’t expect to hold me to a different plan. I’ll have your promise in writing that my money is my own, and once we’re wed and I have the Perry name, we’ll each do as we please. And I’ll be careful enough to see that my inheritance doesn’t disappear into the ocean, but should it please me to go out and stroll about a bit, I’ll do so." She bit off another large piece of meat and chewed it greedily. "You don’t own me, Culver, nor will you ever. And when you start to act as though you do, I’ll tell His Majesty that you’ve kidnapped and beaten me, and in fear of my life I’ve followed your orders."
Culver Perry watched her as she settled herself on the only chair in the room to finish her feast. She did not trouble over his comings and goings so long as he kept her in food and visited her bed regularly. His plan for hustling Seavers out of the Bellamy inheritance had been much more appetizing before he had realized that Charlotte was as devious as he.
But there was a bright light in any storm. "At least we understand each other, madam. Let’s just be cautious that no other understands us as well."
"Fair enough, milord," she said with a mouthful of food. He smiled at her, turned, and gratefully took his leave of the room.
Alicia came awake at the sound of a moan. She sat up on the bed and took notice of Geoffrey stirring from his sleeping place on the floor. He shook off the cover that had been thrown over him and sat up, rubbing his head. Taking a cautious look around the room, he spied Alicia, still in her clothes, sitting up on the small bed. Rodney had also taken possession of the floor for his sleeping. Seavers had no way of knowing that Alicia would not allow the servant to leave her alone with him. All were clothed and apparently passing Geoffrey’s unconscious state as best as could be allowed.
With a pathetic-sounding grunt that spoke loudly of stiffness and ill health, Seavers rose to stand on shaky legs. Gathering strength, with a hand on his belly he headed for the door without looking back. His pace quickened, judging by the sound of his footfalls, as he rushed down the hall and stairs.
"You see," Alicia said, "he’s not dead. But I wager he regrets last night."
Rodney struggled to his feet, his problem being age and the hardness of the floor. "I for one am grateful for his malady. He’ll blame the drink and not you for the condition of his head."
Rodney walked to the door and on the way dropped the key on the table. "Lock yourself in and I will see to his lordship. I’ll see that you’re delivered some meager comforts before you have to deal with my young friend another time."
The meal was the first such comfort to arrive at her door. The tired-looking and unkempt maid who served it further depressed Alicia’s spirit. She wondered if she could ever endure that way of life again. It was the first time since she was a child that she had been served, rather than having to work from early morning until late at night.
When her meal was finished, she paced the room and expected to be seeing Rodney again, but instead the next knock at the door brought a heavy brass tub and buckets full of hot water. A package arrived soon after: scented soap, large linen towels, a generous sponge, and a brush.
A bath of clean hot water, one of the first she had enjoyed since leaving Osmond’s home, eased her mind and body, and later, wrapped in towel, she sat on her stool and brushed her wet hair.
Another knock interrupted her grooming, and she went over to the door. "Who’s there?"
"Geoffrey Seavers, madam. May I come in?"
"You’ll have to wait, milord. I’ve only just come out of the bath."
"Stand behind the door then and let me come in. I’ve brought you a dress and shoes." He paused and cleared his throat. "I won’t look."
Alicia thought for a moment and then put the brush on the table and took up the key. She struggled with the difficult lock, and as the door creaked open, she very quietly asked him to honor his word. "If you’ll put the dress on the bed and leave, I’ll be most grateful."
She held her linen towel around herself and watched his back as he moved to the bed. His hair was pulled back and tied with a ribbon and he had changed to a fresh coat. His steps were slow and cautious ones and he seemed to hesitate. He finally rested a bundle on the bed and painstakingly undid the large package, withdrawing a rich-looking gown. He draped this on the bed and withdrew shoes—expensive-looking ones—which he set beside the gown.
He cleared his throat but did not turn. "I’m told I made a miserable fool of myself last eventide and you were frightened." He cleared his throat again. "My apologies."
"And I am sorry that I proved such a disappointment to you," she replied in a quiet voice.
Geoffrey turned abruptly and startled a gasp out of her. The towel covered her nearly to the floor and did not leave her badly embarrassed, yet she had expected him not to turn. When he realized his error, he cast his eyes resolutely to the floor.
"Again, madam, I’m sorry. I did not think. It’s only that I couldn’t remember your face, and your voice surprises me.
"What surprise is in my voice?" she asked somewhat harshly.
"It’s gentle," he said, still looking at the floor. "And pleasant.
Not what I expected."
"Well, at least I’m not totally unfit in your estimation," she countered.
Geoffrey’s hands went into his coat pockets and he raised his eyes very slowly. Alicia did not gasp and clutch at her cover this time, for his action was so deliberate. She had plenty of time to call out to him not to look at her, but she wanted to see his eyes again. Though she had not suffered ill with drink the night before, she found in the morning that she could not clearly remember his face.
Seavers’s memory was badly impaired and he could not separate in his mind one foul and ill-kept barmaid from below from the parcel that Rodney had delivered, both being women he had encountered the night before. Though he’d arranged the bath, soaps, and clothes, he couldn’t carry the idea a bit further without seeing her face. And the face he was seeing now was lovely. Her hair hung in dark, wet ringlets over her shoulders and down her back, and her face glowed with a freshly scrubbed flush. Slender fingers held the cover in place over her breasts, and drops of moisture from her hair caused the linen to fit her more as skin than cover. What he saw pleased him a great deal. "On the contrary, Alicia," he said hoarsely.
He cleared his throat and began to pace about the small room.
"What we shall do first, Alicia, is teach you all we can of the Bellamys. It shouldn’t take very long. A letter has been sent by courier to the king explaining that the delay in your arrival at court is for the purpose of burying your aunt, the old woman having just been laid to rest. Then, with a few gowns to see you through, you will be given apartments in Whitehall, and our betrothal will be announced. I think it should fall into place nicely."
She nodded at his words, only half of which she heard, and kept her eyes glued to his. The recollection was clear now that she saw him again. His green eyes glittered and danced as though within him there was joy, but the heavy brows countered the joy with a look of sternness. He was most handsome, and when sober, his voice had a pleasant and comfortable sound.