Intrigued (46 page)
“Are you certain?” he replied.
“Yes!” she said, and her tone was smug.
“Do not be,” he told her. “I have wanted you since that first day, Autumn, when you were yet a girl, demanding justice for the deaths of your sister-in-law, and her servant. I will still want you. I am a man who always gets what he wants.”
“We shall see, my lord,” Autumn said, but his admission had startled her. She would have never expected such an acknowledgment from him. He had never given her the slightest indication that he had anything but contempt for her. “I don’t love you,” she told him.
“That will come, Autumn, as we learn more about one another,” he assured her.
She grew silent then. She had never before met a man like Gabriel Bainbridge, Duke of Garwood. Suddenly her life had taken a new turn. She had absolutely no idea where it was going to take her this time. She wasn’t certain she liked surprises, but then, what choice did she have now? But he wouldn’t accept her family’s terms. Or would he?
Chapter
19
19
W
hen the Duke of Garwood escorted Autumn back to Lynmouth House they found her brother Charlie and Cousin Johnnie already there. The two men, older and younger, but both with similar expressions upon their faces, stood together silently.
hen the Duke of Garwood escorted Autumn back to Lynmouth House they found her brother Charlie and Cousin Johnnie already there. The two men, older and younger, but both with similar expressions upon their faces, stood together silently.
“Go to your apartment,” Charles Frederick Stuart said to his sister. His tone was so severe that she obeyed him without question, much to his surprise. He had fully expected Autumn to aruge with him, but instead she curtsied to the three men and hurried up the stairs.
“We’ll go into the library to speak,” John Southwood said, and led the way. “Tray’s on the table, my lords. Help yourselves,” he told them, pouring himself a good measure of whiskey. He was going to need it, he suspected.
His cousin and their guest followed suit, and then, at their host’s invitation, they sat by the fire, which hissed and crackled as it burned brightly. Outside it had begun to rain, the droplets pelting fiercely against the lead-paned windows of the library.
“I was not there at that moment,” the Duke of Lundy began, “but I am told by George Villiers that you referred to my sister as a whore. Is that so, my lord?” His amber eyes stared directly at Gabriel Bainbridge.
“It is so,” the Duke of Garwood said.
“Yet you are willing to marry her,” Charlie continued.
“I am.” Gabriel Bainbridge’s own blue eyes did not waver from Charlie’s darker gaze.
“Why?” Charlie demanded.
“I am not certain myself,” came the candid reply. “All I can tell you is that from that first day I saw her I could not forget her. She haunts my dreams, if that makes any sense.”
“You love her, as I once told you,” the Duke of Lundy replied.
“How can I, given her moral character?” came the answer.
“You poor fool,” Charlie told him. “You love her, but you cannot admit it to yourself because she has lain with the king. She was no virgin, and my royal cousin was not the first king with whom she lay. Her younger daughter, my niece Margot, is King Louis’s daughter.”
“Then how indeed can I love such a woman?” the Duke of Garwood cried, genuinely distressed.
“Listen to me, my lord. I shall tell you things that my proud sister will never admit to you, but if you and she are to have any chance at happiness, I must speak. You will never, however, say I did. Autumn was my mother’s last child, born when Mama thought she was past such things as having babies. There were nine of us, although only eight grew to adulthood. Five of us were full-grown when Autumn was born. The two who were half-grown had been to Ireland, where they had adjoining estates. Of all our siblings, only Patrick Leslie, the eldest of James Leslie’s sons, remained at Glenkirk, but he was already a man when our sister entered this world. Autumn has been raised as an only child would be, cossetted and spoiled by us all.
“Then came the war. James Leslie died at Dunbar. Autumn was at Queen’s Malvern when it happened. Mama arrived at Glenkirk to take Autumn to her chateau in France. There was nothing left for them in England. It was there that my sister met her husband, Sebastian d’Oleron. They were wildly in love and they married. They had a daughter, Madeline, but when Maddie was just two her father died suddenly. My sister was absolutely devastated. Could scarcely rise from her bed on some days. She barely ate and worse, she ignored her child.
“Finally she began to escape from her deep doldrums, taking an interest in Chermont’s vineyards and her child once more. But a year after Sebastian died, King Louis came to hunt at Chambord. He remembered Autumn from his boyhood, when he had lusted after her and she had put him firmly down for his presumption. He sent for her to come to Chambord. He did not ask whether she wanted to become his mistress. He was Louis, King of France, and she was his subject. She feared for her daughter if she did not obey. Louis was kind to her and acknowledged their child, Margot. Then at last our own king was restored, and Autumn came home.”
“Into Charles Stuart’s most eager arms,” the Duke of Garwood said scathingly. He could forgive her Louis of France, but knowing his own king had made love to her would be harder. Still he wanted Autumn.
“Indeed she did,” Charlie admitted frankly. “She saw an opportunity and she took it. My sister is a wealthy woman, but she would prefer not to live in France. Here, however, she has no title of her own any longer. Nor did she have a home of her own. She deliberately sought to fill Barbara Palmer’s place in the king’s bed until that lady returned from her maternal holiday. Autumn’s no innocent, but an experienced female. A woman of the streets who spreads her legs for a ha’penny might be called a whore, but a well-born lady of the court who does the same for a king is not. No one dared to call my mother a whore, my lord.
Would you?”
Would you?”
The Duke of Lundy watched as the realization spread over Gabriel Bainbridge’s handsome face.
“No, your grace, I would not!” he quickly said. “It is said, though, that your mother loved your father deeply. Autumn certainly did not love King Charles.”
“My mother did love Prince Henry,” Charlie said with a small smile. He knew from family tales that his father had helped to birth him, but he had never known him, for Henry Stuart had died shortly after his birth. “As for Autumn, she would tell you herself that she did not love the king, but she does respect his power. She is honest to a fault.”
“I am not used to such a woman,” the Duke of Garwood admitted.
“If you really want to marry my sister, my lord, you must accept her as she is, and not as you would like her to be. She will not change. The women in our family are unique in their independent spirit. Is that not so, Johnnie?” the duke queried his cousin.
Johnnie Southwood grinned. “My great-great-grandmother was known to command a pirate fleet and fought with old Queen Bess. My great-grandmother, known as Angel, served that queen. My grandmother, Penelope, fought off pirates who invaded our estate in Devon. She was with child at the time. My own mother, Daphne, held our home and kept it safe from Cromwell’s men. I could tell you about my Aunt MaryAnne, but it would take half the night, I fear. And this, my lord, is but one small branch of the family. We have several branches in Ireland and Scotland, as well as England. All are descendants of Skye O’Malley and her husbands. She had six of them, you know.”
“At once?” the Duke of Garwood said nervously.
“One at a time,” Charlie assured him before Johnnie could tease the man and frighten him off. The Duke of Lundy had long since decided that Gabriel Bainbridge would make a perfect husband for his sister, and he intended to see it happen. “Mam; that is what we called her. She was my great-grandmother, outlived them all. My home was her home, and my title came to me from her late husband, courtesy of my grandfather, King James, who elevated my great-grandfather’s earldom to a dukedom.
“Now, sir, if you would have Autumn to wife there are several matters we must clear up. First, I would have your apology. Do I?”
“Aye, you do,” the Duke of Garwood replied honestly. “I spoke in anger. No one can make me angrier than your sister, my lord. What other conditions do you have for me to fulfill?”
“It is the custom of the women in our family, all of whom possess their own wealth, to keep that wealth. Their betrothed husbands are given a dower portion, and some of my female cousins have even preferred allowing their mates to manage their monies, but most do not. We seem to have sired a race of women who are clever with their funds. Autumn, as I suspect you already know, is one of them. This conversation will go no further if you cannot meet such a condition.”
“It is indeed unusual,” the Duke of Garwood said slowly. Then he chuckled. “Now I know why Autumn thought I would cry off when I heard it. I imagine many men would.”
“Would you?” Charlie asked him.
“Nay, I wouldn’t,” came the honest reply.
Charlie grinned. “Nor has any man in our family history. Our ladies seem to be that fascinating to their swains,” he chuckled.
“And your other conditions, my lord?”
“There is only one. You cannot wed with my sister until you have gotten to know one another better. I know it is the custom for marriages to be made for dynastic, financial, and other practical reasons, but that is the other thing about the women in our family. They marry for love.” He shrugged. “I do not know what is to be done with such females, who would manage their own wealth and insist on loving their husbands.”
“The king . . .” Gabriel Bainbridge began, but Charlie put him off.
“I know my cousin said you could have Autumn, but be assured he will change his mind if I ask him to do so, my lord. I believe, however, that you are the right man for my sister. Only give her the time to come to that conclusion. Let her have her bairn, and we shall see. I believe in love at first sight, Gabriel, but I do not think Autumn does.”
“The king dismissed her quite publicly this afternoon,” the Duke of Garwood told Charlie. “I should advise she leave London before the coronation. What think you, sir?”
“I agree,” the Duke of Lundy said. “I would like you to escort her home, if the king will permit your absence from his triumph.”
“I’ll go with them,” the young Earl of Lynmouth said. “I’ll not be missed, and I should like to meet your mother. My great-grandfather always spoke of how beautiful she was. My brother and I loved the tale of how she came to England and was presented to the family.”
“Aye,” Charlie said, “I think it would be an excellent idea if you escorted Autumn back to Mama at Queen’s Malvern. If I cannot join you, immediately you will be a buffer between them until my sister’s temper cools and she becomes more reasonable. She will need to concentrate all her effort on calming Mama, once our mama learns of her condition and who the father of her expected child is. I will come as soon as the king is crowned and he releases me. Lady Barbara has never really liked me, or she is jealous of anyone she believes takes the king’s attention from her. I will be happy to avoid the rough side of her wicked tongue this summer. By the time I return to court, she will be secure in her position as
maitress en titre
once more. Autumn is of far better birth than Lady Barbara, and this is the first time the king has sired a child on a woman of such noble birth. Lady Barbara will not be happy.”
maitress en titre
once more. Autumn is of far better birth than Lady Barbara, and this is the first time the king has sired a child on a woman of such noble birth. Lady Barbara will not be happy.”
“She will be far more unhappy when the king weds, which he is bound to do next year,” Johnnie said. “It is to be the Portuguese Infanta, they say. Her dowry will take him out of debt. The French have no princesses right now, and the Protestant Northern kingdoms have no dowries large enough to outstrip the Portuguese.”
“For a man who claims not to spend a great deal of time at court, Johnnie, you know more gossip,” the Duke of Lundy chuckled. Then he turned to the Duke of Garwood. “Then we are agreed, my lord?”
“We are agreed,” Gabriel Bainbridge replied.
So King Charles II was crowned on April 23, 1661 in Westminster Abbey. The ceremony and the banquets that followed were colorful and lavish. Barbara Palmer, newly returned to court and restored to her lover’s bed, was prominent, her rich chestnut curls shining and her bright blue eyes flashing her triumph. The king had reassured her that he adored her above all women, and her friends had assured her that she was far more beautiful than Madame la Marquise d’Auriville. That her friends lied made no difference, for madame la marquise had been dismissed from court and was unlikely to ever return. Barbara Palmer would never have the chance for comparison, nor the opportunity to learn of her friends’ deception.
The coach carrying Autumn back to Queen’s Malvern traveled at a leisurely pace, but Autumn preferred riding despite the objections of her cousin and the Duke of Garwood. Lily and Orane sat within the vehicle while Lily’s husband, Marc, rode with the others. Halfway through each day Johnnie would ride ahead to the inn where they would be staying for the night to make certain everything was in perfect order for his cousin and her party. The day before they reached Queen’s Malvern Charlie caught up with them. At his jealous mistress’s urging the king had released the Duke of Lundy until Martinsmas.
Secretly relieved, Autumn greeted her brother warmly. She had not wanted to face her mother alone. Until this very moment she hadn’t really considered how angry Jasmine was going to be with her for her deliberate actions, but Autumn had not a doubt that her mother would like Gabriel Bainbridge. But there was going to be no quick wedding, if indeed there was a wedding at all. The king had tricked her, although Autumn didn’t believe his actions were calculated. He had simply taken a convenient path that allowed him to satisfy in one stroke both his honor and his promise. Autumn smiled to herself. It was really quite deliciously clever of Charles, and she was not in the least angry. If she decided that she could abolutely not marry the Duke of Garwood, she was certain for her child’s sake that the king would give her her own title.
They at last reached Queen’s Malvern. Gabriel Bainbridge lifted Autumn down from her horse, setting her gently on her feet. “You must be happy to be home,” he said softly.
“This isn’t my home,” she answered him. “It is Charlie’s home. I have no home.”
“You are very stubborn, aren’t you?” he remarked.
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