Page 16 of Virginia Henley - Unmasked

  Velvet's hand flew to her throat. "I had no idea, Sire."

  "I believe you owe the earl an abject apology."

  "Earl?" I didn't know that Greysteel's father had died.

  "You had best beg his pardon if you wish to become the Countess of Eglinton." Amusement returned to the king's eyes. "Montgomery legally owns your Castle of Bolsover. To get it back in your family, you will have to marry him and hope he deeds it to you as a wedding gift.”

  Charles plucked a dark red rose and presented it with a gallant bow. "It would please me if you'd wed without further delay. You will make an enchanting countess, Velvet."

  She stared speechlessly as he called the dogs and left the garden. Her thoughts were in total disarray, her emotions were in chaos, her poise had shattered, and her tranquility vanished. She had no idea how long she stayed in the rose garden, but presently it came to her that though her father and brother were invited to dine privately with Charles, she was not in­cluded.

  Deep in thought, Velvet wandered through the ram­bling conglomeration of Whitehall buildings that were spread over twenty acres. The liveried servants paid her little heed and no porter or guard challenged her right to be there. She found herself at the King Street Gates and saw the merchants' stands set up outside the walls. This reminded Velvet that she had no money to pay for either food or transportation, so she made her way back to her father's carriage. The driver helped her inside and she sat in the corner, trying to decide upon the best course of action to take regarding Greysteel Montgomery.

  She had been sitting there for almost two hours when her father returned. He was bursting with happy news and regaled Velvet with the details of his visit with King Charles. He pointed to the blue ribbon on his chest.

  "His Gracious Majesty decorated me with the Order of the Garter for services rendered to the Stuart cause. As well, he is honoring me with a dukedom!"

  "Congratulations, Father." Velvet was truly happy for him.

  "That's not all. His Gracious Majesty honored your brother, Henry, by making him Marquis of Mansfield. We Cavendishes are truly basking in the monarch's favor."

  "Truly," Velvet murmured. It was clear that she was utterly out of favor with His Gracious Majesty and would remain so until she made amends to Greysteel Montgomery.

  "King Charles assured me that Nottingham Castle and Welbeck Abbey would be restored to us by an act of Parliament."

  Velvet caught her breath. He said naught of Bolsover. Likely Charles had deliberately not men­tioned that castle. Bolsover's return to the Cavendish family would depend entirely upon her. "Father, did the king say anything about my marriage?"

  "Yes, he anticipates that it will take place forthwith. Montgomery has come into his earldom, Velvet, so it would be an advantageous match. You are getting no younger, my dear."

  His words still stung when they arrived back at Bishopsgate. She deliberately pushed away all thoughts of her predicament, telling herself that at bedtime, when she could retire to the privacy of her own chamber, she would decide what she must do.

  At dinner, the dowager graciously allowed Newcastle to describe every detail of his meeting with the king, while his wife, Margaret, basked in his reflected glory. Everyone at the table admired the duke's Order of the Garter. Velvet noticed there was one exception. Young Lord Cav's face was sullen, his eyes covetous as he stared at the medal. He's already heir to an earldom, but that isn't good enough for the selfish lecher!

  "How was your visit with the queen?" Velvet asked Christian.

  "I was never more shocked in my life at Queen Henrietta Maria's appearance. All those years of dep­rivation have certainly taken their toll."

  Margaret interjected, "It was Her Highness's own choice to live on such a Spartan scale, sacrificing ser­vants and carriages so the money could be used to re­store her son to the throne."

  "Yes, most admirable I'm sure, but now, instead of relishing every moment of Charles's restoration, she is obsessed with revenge. I fully understand her desire to punish all who were guilty of the regicide of her hus­band, but you cannot put to death the entire popula­tion of Parliamentarians."

  "Charles certainly has his work cut out for him. The murderers of his father will be put on trial for treason and after that, he will make sure that all traces of the Cromwell regime are expunged," Newcastle assured them.

  Christian, determined to change the subject, smiled at Velvet. "How was your day, darling?"

  She hesitated only a moment. "I... I met King Charles's spaniels and had a most informative tour of Whitehall." She put down her napkin and arose from the table. "If you will all excuse me, I must put the finishing touches on the gown I'm going to wear to the Palmers' entertainment tomorrow night."

  Alone in her chamber, Velvet sat down and delved into all that had happened between Greysteel and her­self. Her thoughts carried her back to Roehampton, all those long months ago, and how happy they had been. She truly believed she had fallen head over heels in love with him, and their days and nights had been per­fect. Then she had seen the Parliamentarian uniform in his wardrobe and found the letters in his desk that had branded him an agent of Monck's and a traitor to her beloved Charles Stuart.

  When she confronted him and accused him, why had he not denied his perfidy? Why had he let her be­lieve he had betrayed Charles and everything the king was striving to attain? She suspected now that Greysteel Montgomery was too proud to offer denials, or try to explain himself, especially to a woman. She tried to put herself in his place, and realized what an insult her accusations must have been to him, espe­cially when he was risking his life to aid Charles's restoration to the throne.

  It began to dawn on her that without the risks he had taken, probably Charles Stuart would not yet be King of England. The self-righteous words she'd flung at him at their last encounter came back to her: How dare you? How dare you show your traitorous face at the king's reception? Greysteel's reply had been, King Charles is my friend, Velvet, just as he is yours.

  Velvet blushed. I didn't give him a chance to explain anything. I must apologize for the dreadful things I said to him and beg him to forgive me. Feeling contrite, she penned a brief note asking if she could come to see him. She lifted her pen. Charles made it plain that he ex­pects us to marry! She decided against mentioning it in the letter. She sealed it quickly and would have it de­livered first thing in the morning.

  Charles's words about Bolsover came back to her: To get it back in your family you will have to marry him and hope he deeds it to you as a wedding gift. "How the devil can Greysteel Montgomery be the legal owner of our castle? It cannot be true, and yet the king is convinced of it." She bit her lip. "The devil will have to show me proof before I'm convinced of it!"

  Velvet realized she was on her high horse again. What if he does have proof? Worse, what if he has no desire to marry me?

  Filled with doubts and uncertainty, she went to bed and tossed and turned for more than two hours before she fell asleep. Then just before dawn, when she began to dream, she found herself standing between the two tall, dark men, beseeching them, but both turned their backs on her and walked away.

  Chapter 15

  Wearing her prettiest green silk gown adorned with silver ribbon, Velvet sat across from Christian as the coach carried them to the Palmers' house in King Street. She had waited all day for a reply to the message she'd sent Montgomery, and was both disappointed and annoyed that her wait had been in vain. Hell and furies, the dominant devil is punishing me and making me wait for an answer. No doubt it is his way of bringing me to heel! She was unaware that he had written to the dowager countess instead, informing her that he would be attending the Palmers' entertain­ment. He'd asked Christian to accompany Velvet, but not divulge that he would be there.

  "If you were a married lady, darling, you would be free to go wherever you fancied, without the incon­venience of dragging me along as chaperone."

  "I'm sorry, Christian. I enjoy your company and for­get that
sometimes you may not wish to be dragged out in the evening." She remembered the king's ad­monition. "I understand the Royal Court prefers that its ladies be married rather than unwed."

  "Maidens were the fashion at Elizabeth's Court, but that was a century ago and times have changed." Christian glanced out the window. "King Charles will marry soon, and his Queen's Court will be made up of married ladies from the nobility, such as the Countess of Suffolk."

  Velvet sighed. She had always loved Charles, and when she was a child, she had believed that he would marry her. Still, the thought of being one of his queen's ladies was most desirable. "Now that you have ex­plained, I understand why the Royal Court prefers that its ladies be married." I would be the Countess of Eglinton now, if only there hadn't been that dreadful misunderstanding between Montgomery and me. A frisson of desire made her quiver and she quickly dismissed him from her thoughts before the aching longing over­whelmed her.

  "There's Whitehall. King Street is close by. I believe the Palmers' mansion is quite impressive."

  As they stepped from their carriage, they joined other guests who were attending tonight's entertain­ment. Liveried footmen opened the front doors, and they were greeted in the reception hall by their host and hostess, Roger and Barbara Palmer.

  Three great chambers were open for their guests' entertainment. The large drawing room with its bril­liantly lit chandeliers served as a ballroom where mu­sicians provided dance music. Next to that was a banquet room, its tables set in the French buffet style with sumptuous food, rich confections and imported wine. Finally, there was a cardroom, where gambling of every sort was encouraged. Of course, this room was packed with fun-loving courtiers, and money was won and lost at the speed of lightning.

  To Velvet's relief, Christian Cavendish seemed to know many of the guests and was able to introduce her to them. She met the Countess of Shrewsbury, the Countess of Maitland, Lady Anne Carnegie and Lady Elizabeth Hamilton. Velvet tried to remember that Lady Hamilton was a duchess, and Bess, Countess of Maitland, was married to the king's Scottish friend John Lauderdale.

  Charles Stuart and Greysteel Montgomery left Whitehall together. The Palmers' house on King Street was within walking distance and both were looking forward to a most enjoyable evening. "I trust you re­membered the bauble?"

  "I did, Sire." Montgomery handed him a small jewel box. At the king's behest, he'd procured the gift from his goldsmith. Greysteel was one of the few peo­ple who knew Charles and Barbara Palmer were hav­ing an intimate liaison.

  The king lifted the lid and saw the sparkle of the di­amond brooch. "Very pretty. I believe a beautiful woman should be indulged. Do you have a jewel for your lady?"

  "I do not, Sire. Your advice was to never again allow her to gain the upper hand. I do, however, have a wedding ring."

  Charles cast a sardonic glance at his friend. "You have no need of a bauble when you have a castle to dangle before her."

  Montgomery kept a wise silence. He believed that a woman could be indulged too much.

  "Did you make arrangements at the chapel?"

  "I did, Sire."

  When they arrived at the Palmer residence, the ma-jordomo announced, "His Majesty King Charles II," and word quickly spread throughout the rooms that the king had come.

  The hosts came forward to greet him. Roger bowed and Barbara sank into a graceful curtsy as the king swept off his hat. When he kissed the lady's hand, they smiled into each other's eyes with anticipation.

  "Charles is here!" Velvet felt excitement rush through her.

  Christian set down her empty glass, raised her fan and murmured, "I expected as much. The Palmers are so ambitious they traveled to Holland to curry favor the moment they learned the king was being re­stored."

  Velvet glanced at the table filled with fantastic desserts. "You think self-interest prompts this lavish hospitality?"

  "Of course. But there is no shame in ambition. The king is shrewd enough to know that everyone in his circle will look to increase his ... or her own fortune."

  Music from the ballroom drifted to Velvet. "Do you think His Majesty will dance?" she asked breathlessly.

  "If he does, I'm sure he will partner you, darling. You go to the ballroom and I shall proceed to the card-room. It's a long time since I've enjoyed a good game of primero."

  Velvet left the supper room and followed the music. At the entrance to the drawing room she saw Buck­ingham talking with someone with his back toward her. She stopped walking. She knew instantly that the broad shoulders belonged to Montgomery. She drew in a swift breath. / had no idea he would be here! Her hand went to her hair to make sure her curls were in place. Her ears thudded with her own heartbeat. Wildly, she wondered why he always had such a profound physi­cal effect upon her.

  Suddenly, Velvet was filled with anger. When I ac­cused you, why didn't you confide in me? Why did you allow me to make a bloody fool of myself, not once, but each time we met?

  Montgomery left Buckingham, turned and walked toward her.

  She moved to meet him and snapped her fan closed. "You devil!" she hissed.

  "Not one more word, Velvet." His face was dark and dangerous. He held out his arm and his intense grey eyes compelled her to place her hand on his sleeve. Too late, she remembered that she had meant to humbly apologize and ask his forgiveness. Why did the sight of him make her furious? Why did he bring out the worst in her?

  "Where is the dowager?" he demanded.

  She glared at him and remained silent, since he'd forbidden her to say one more word to him.

  He imprisoned her hand beneath his and took her into the gaming room. He led her to the table where the dowager was sitting, and spoke quietly. "Good evening, Lady Cavendish." As Montgomery kissed her hand, he pressed a note into it. "Velvet and I are leaving, with your permission, of course. You mustn't worry—I'll take good care of her."

  "You're captain of the King's Guard—of course you shall." She saw Velvet's tightly controlled anger and rolled her eyes.

  On their way to the front door they encountered Charles laughing at something his hostess was saying, and stopped to take their leave. Montgomery knew that the king would not require his services tonight; he would remain with Barbara until dawn.

  Velvet curtsied. "Good evening, Sire." She looked at Barbara and smiled with tight lips. "Thank you for your lovely invitation, Mrs. Palmer."

  The king hid his amusement. "Going so soon?"

  Montgomery bowed. "By your leave, Sire."

  As a footman brought Velvet's wrap, Barbara looked up at Charles. "Lud, I thought they'd give us a fireworks display"

  "The sparks will fly all right, but Montgomery will make sure they are not for public consumption."

  Outside, Montgomery led her past the carriages and Velvet had to quicken her steps to keep up with his long strides. She wanted to demand where he was taking her, but clamped her lips shut and remained stubbornly silent. I'll be damned if I'll speak to the domi­nant devil.

  He took her through the Whitehall gates and nod­ded to the guard. When they entered the building, they passed other guards, who allowed them to pass unchallenged. They climbed a staircase that led to the second floor and Velvet guessed that he was taking her to his private quarters. She shivered with anticipation, knowing they would soon be alone together.

  He opened the unlocked door and ushered her into a handsomely furnished suite of rooms where his manservant had just finished lighting the candles in the wall sconces. "Thank you, Thomas." After the ser­vant departed, Montgomery took out a key and locked the door.

  Velvet stood silently, her simmering anger her only defense against the irresistible attraction he aroused in her.

  He removed his plumed hat, unbuckled his sword and laid them atop an oak chest. Then he turned to her and said, "So, let's have it. I now grant you permission to speak."

  His words raised her anger from a simmer to a boil. She was so infuriated that she was momentarily speechless.

  With a pe
rfectly straight face, he prompted her, "You wish to apologize for all your unfounded, un­worthy suspicions and beg me to forgive you. Let's hear it, Velvet."

  She flew at him with clenched fists and smote him on the chest. "You arrogant monster! I hate, loathe and detest you!" She might as well have been battering the stones of Whitehall for all the impact her blows had on him.

  He gazed down at her. "You are beautiful in your passion. The opposite of love is not hate, Velvet. It is indifference." His mouth curved. "You are far from in­different, sweetheart."

  "I am not your sweetheart!"

  His smile reached his eyes. "Shall I show you that you are?"

  She realized he was about to kiss her, and knew she would be lost if he did. Desperate to stop him, she voiced her thoughts. "Why did you allow me to make a fool of myself? When I accused you, why didn't you confide in me?"

  Confide in a woman? The thought was incredible to him. His words were slightly more diplomatic. "Con­fide secret information that might put you in danger, and jeopardize the entire mission?" He took her wrap and led her to a chair. "It was imperative that I keep negotiations between George Monck and Charles Stu­art confidential or the king would never have been re­stored to the throne." His face softened and he slipped to his knees before her. "You should have trusted me, Velvet."

  Her anger began to melt in spite of her resolve.

  He took her hands. "Wasn't making a fool of your­self a small price to pay to have Charles crowned king?"

  Now he was patronizing her, and she would take her revenge. "Oh, yes! I would pay any price, make any sacrifice, for Charles." She said his name with ado­ration.

  Montgomery's face fell, as if she'd touched an old wound.

  She felt satisfaction that she had the power to make him jealous. She laughed, her eyes sparkling with tri­umph. "I too can be a devil if you want to play games, Greysteel Montgomery."

  Somewhat relieved, he joined in her laughter. "You are an imp of Satan, Velvet Cavendish."