"You have two letters.... I read the one from Christian."
I won't tell her that I also read the one from Charles. It would embarrass her—odds fish, it would embarrass both of us!
"Will you read it to me?"
"It contains sad news. Princess Mary has died."
"Oh, dear God ... poor Charles."
Greysteel took the letter from the envelope and read:
Dearest Velvet:
When I learned of Princess Mary's tragic death from smallpox, I hurried to Whitehall and learned from Emma that you had gone to Roehampton to warn your husband that he had been exposed. I am extremely worried for you and Montgomery and beg that you immediately let me know that you are well.
The contagion is spreading, I'm afraid. My grandson, William, came down with a mild dose, but unfortunately for him his once handsome face will be badly pockmarked. You will likely believe this is just punishment for stealing the portrait you were having painted for Greysteel. Using it to blackmail you into exchanging it for Roehampton was an evil deed for which he has now paid.
Greysteel raised his eyes from the letter and looked at Velvet. "You know I want to kill the whoreson, don't you?"
She shook her head. "It would hurt Christian too much."
His eyes went back to the letter and he continued reading.
Henrietta Maria is in deepest mourning for her daughter and I believe the queen is secretly suffering from guilt over the way she treated her son Henry. I warrant she now realizes that the estrangement can never be rectified. It's a lesson we should all heed; never let silly quarrels separate us from those we love.
Greysteel and Velvet exchanged a poignant glance.
I feel great empathy for Charles. Ruling a kingdom does not protect him from tragedy and sorrow. Though surrounded by both fawners and friends, I believe he is the loneliest of men.
Greysteel avoided looking at his wife and finished the letter.
If I do not hear from you shortly, I shall come to Roehampton to see for myself how you are faring. Fondest love, Christian.
"Will you write to her for me, darling?"
"As soon as I see that you are fully recovered."
"I refuse to expire ... again," she added softly.
The light in his grey eyes was fierce. "You did take your last breath, Velvet."
"Yes ... I know what it feels like to die."
"What does it feel like, love?"
"Frightening ... so I decided to come back to you.... I knew you would keep me safe." She twisted her wedding ring that now fitted so loosely, and it fell off in her hand. She looked down at the tiny circle of gold and noticed something inscribed on the inside. She held it up to the light and squinted her eyes so that she could read it. Loved forever.
Velvet's heart fluttered and her eyes widened. "Why did you never tell me that you loved me, Greysteel?"
"From the day we were betrothed, I believed you were in love with Charles. Now that I'm older and wiser, I realize that you love each other as friends."
"Devoted friends," Velvet teased.
"If you are ready to pour salt on my wounded heart, you must be feeling a little better. Here is a letter from your devoted friend. I shall give you privacy while you read it."
Alone, Velvet looked at the sealed letter in her hand. Though they had been friends since Charles was eight, this was the first time he had ever written to her. As she broke the seal and began to read, the pain Charles conveyed over the death of his sister dwarfed her distressing discomfort.
She came to the words
I will never forget the look of fear on your face for your husband when you learned that he had been in close contact with a victim of smallpox. It told me how deeply you love him.
And she read them a second time. When she came to the words I envy Montgomery your devotion, because I know I will never have so great a love, she read them three times.
Velvet suddenly became suspicious of Greysteel's words. "'Older and wiser/ be damned/' she murmured. "Perhaps you realized that Charles and I love each other as friends only after you read this letter." A hint of a smile touched her lips and she decided not to examine the seal too closely.
After a short time, she again focused on the letter.
After my coronation, when Catherine comes from Portugal to be my wife and queen, I know I could have no more worthy Lady of the Bedchamber to serve her than you, Velvet.
"That is true," she whispered.
Whitehall is not the same without the Earl and Countess ofEglinton.
Velvet sighed. "That is also true." The letter fell from her fingers as her mind drifted off, conjuring imaginary scenes.
Each and every day of the next week, Greysteel nursed his wife, washing her, tending the eruptions on her body, feeding her and showing her in every way how precious she was to him.
"My scabs and matter are healing." She raised her arm to reveal her armpit. "Some more crusts fell off in the night."
He took hold of her fingers, kissed them and slanted a dark eyebrow at her. "Can you guess what I'm going to do to you when you are strong again?"
She rolled her eyes in anticipation. "Tell me."
His teasing look vanished. "I'm going to beat you to a jelly for putting your life in jeopardy!"
"Do you have a big stick?" she asked innocently.
"Big enough," he threatened. "Let me put more cream on your cheek." He peeled off the small square of linen and shook his head regretfully. "How the hell do you expect me to live with the knowledge that I infected you with smallpox?"
"Are these pangs of guilt you are suffering caused by the pockmark I'll have on my face?" she asked incredulously.
"It is a terrible price to pay for rushing here to warn me."
"Greysteel Montgomery, it is a mere trifle. If it's ugly, I shall wear a fashionable patch over it."
Her courageous nonchalance touched and amused him. "It will have to be a hell of a big patch."
"They have some outrageous ones at the Exchange in the Strand imported from Paris. I warrant a patch in the shape of a coach and horses will do the trick."
"You will be mistaken for a French courtesan," he teased.
"By you, I hope ... and sooner rather than later," she invited.
He rubbed cream on her cheek and decided to leave it uncovered. Since a second scab had never formed, he had high expectations that the scar would not be unsightly. Since she had never asked for a mirror, Greysteel wondered if she was afraid to look at herself. He forced himself to go to her dressing table and bring her a hand mirror.
Velvet took one look at her reflection and screamed.
"Sweetheart, it's not that bad."
"It's my hair! It's enough to frighten the ducks off the pond. Bloody hell, is it any wonder they used to call me Frizzy Lizzy? How can you bear to look at me?"
He grinned. "You've been naked for over a fortnight—I didn't notice your hair."
"I wanted to go downstairs tomorrow, but I'll have to wash my hair before anyone sees me looking like this.... I'm a countess."
"I'll get the bathing tub out. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to carry hot water for you, though," he teased.
"If you have a relapse, I'll put you to bed and do my utmost to restore your faculties." She licked her lips suggestively.
"You're starting to frighten me, Lizzy!"
"You devil! It's Lady Lizzy, and don't you forget it."
That night, after she had dried her hair before the fire, Velvet put down her brush and posed naked before her portrait. "What do you think?"
Greysteel stepped from the bath and toweled himself. He studied the painting, then cast a critical eye over his wife. "Well-ll... you've been very sick, you know," he said doubtfully.
She stared at his cock as it stood up and turned rigid. "Now there's an honest answer. I shall reward the tall fellow."
He strode toward her, picked her up with mock ferocity and carried her to their bed. With tender hands he
laid her down and brushed the red gold tendrils from her face. "I love you so much, Velvet. We are miraculously lucky to have survived and to be together like this."
Her arms slid about his neck, which was now heavily pockmarked, and she lifted her mouth for his ravishing. His long lovelocks will hide them; his splendid dark beauty is intact. Her mind stopped forming thoughts as she reveled in the taste and the feel of his powerful body. Her fingers sought out his old battle scars when he made love to her. It thrilled her to know he had been a warrior.
When Greysteel kissed her breasts, he cherished the one that had been left pockmarked as much as he did the other—more than he did the other. It was a badge of her great courage.
Velvet shuddered. His unshaved chin prickled against her flesh and perversely it excited her because it added to his overt maleness and his dominance. By contrast she felt fragile and feminine and so sensually feline, she wanted to purr.
When Greysteel slid up inside her, he cried out as her scalding sheath gloved him, clinging possessively as she yielded to his hard demanding thrusts. Though he had intended to be gentle, his instincts told him that Velvet wanted to be taken with thunder and fury. She was his woman and he needed to brand her with his fierce love and adoration. Tenderness could wait until the afterglow.
Much later, with their bodies curled together, the lovers talked and whispered for hours, murmuring love words, making plans, rejoicing over their baby, declaring passionate vows and exchanging sacred promises. They ran the gamut of emotions from laughter to tears as they revealed their innermost fears and fancies to each other. They had both learned the hard way that being together was the only thing they truly needed to be happy.
The next morning, before they broke their fast, they went downstairs and ran outside like children escaping from the prison of the schoolroom. They visited their horses in the stable and when Velvet saw the pair of striped cats who lived there, she decided to give them names. "Let's call them Scabs and Matter. I have a flagrant fondness for scabs and matter."
"You have a predilection for peculiar names, my love."
"If someone called Greysteel is referring to the name Velvet, the wretch has no leg to stand on!"
He bowed. "Your witty point is taken. Let's go and eat breakfast before I faint from hunger."
"You need some boiled owl to toughen you up!"
"And you need your arse tanned to curb that saucy tongue."
"Tell the truth and shame the Devil, you love my tongue!"
"You are the rudest little girl I have ever encountered."
They went off into peals of laughter. Then, hands clasped, they entered the manor through the kitchen door.
They ate their breakfast at the kitchen table and insisted that Mrs. Clegg join them.
"Roehampton has spawned another love match," Bertha said. "It's the romantic Elizabethan atmosphere It's inevitable."
"We are going to have a baby." Velvet's face glowed.
"Congratulations! When is it to be, my lady?"
"Well, I hope he doesn't put in an appearance before May."
"So that you can attend the coronation?" Bertha asked.
"Good heavens, no! If he's born in April, I'll have two males under the sign of Aries trying to control me.
"And what if it's a female imp of Satan like yourself?" Greysteel demanded.
Velvet's face softened. "If it's a girl, I shall call her Paisley."
"My mother's name!" His heart melted with love. "You are so generous, Velvet."
"Nonsense, I just like beautiful names." She pushed back her chair. "Now, if you will both excuse me, I have to write a letter to a friend." She glanced wickedly at Greysteel. "A devoted friend!"
They left the kitchen and Greysteel watched her sit at the writing desk. "I shall give you some privacy, Lady Montgomery."
Velvet spent the next hour composing a letter to the king. Just as she was about to sand it, she heard a carriage on the driveway and ran to the window. "It's Christian," she called upstairs. "Didn't you answer her letter?"
"Of course, I did. I invited her to come and visit us."
The two women enjoyed their reunion, and Greysteel sat bemused, unable to get a word in edgewise, as the pair talked without seeming to take a breath.
"What will you wear to the coronation?" Christian asked.
"I'm not going to the coronation. I have more important things to do, like giving birth to the next Earl of Eglinton."
"Darling, you won't have your baby until the following month. King Charles will expect you both to be there."
"Charles is quite capable of receiving the Crown of England without us holding his hands. We have our own life to live. We are going to take our horses to Bolsover and spend Christmas there as well as the spring. We want our child to be born at the castle."
The dowager countess was taken aback. "You mean to say you don't intend to return to Whitehall until Catherine of Braganza becomes Charles's queen?"
"I don't intend to return at all, except for an occasional visit. I have just written to Charles, declining his invitation to be a Lady of the Bedchamber."
"Are you pulling my leg, Velvet?"
"No, I am perfectly serious. My mind is made up."
"How will you exist without the intrigue and gossip?"
"I shall rely on you for every salacious detail!"
"That reminds me ... the latest rumor is that James, Duke of York, secretly wed Anne Hyde, and now wants a divorce!"
"The lecherous swine! 'Tis no rumor. I was there with the king when James and Anne were married in the chapel. I was also there when the poor lady suffered a miscarriage. Now that there's no child, the whoreson wants a divorce! I shall add a postscript to my letter to Charles that I will be a witness if he wants me to testify that they are legally wed!"
Montgomery sat stunned, listening to his wife. She was willing to give up her glamorous life at Court to be a wife and mother and allow him to fulfill his dream of breeding horses. Velvet was ready to return to Whitehall to right a wrong, but other than that, she was ready to kiss the Court good-bye.
Suddenly, she looked across the room and their eyes met in an intimate glance that aroused him instantly. He knew he was the luckiest man alive.
Velvet lowered her voice to Christian. "I'll be busy being a Lady of Montgomery's Bedchamber. The man is insatiable!"
Virginia Henley, Virginia Henley - Unmasked
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