Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) (18 page)

She was as thoughtless and selfish, spoiled and shallow as he had first feared. She had not even deigned to join them at dinner. One would think she’d have come, if only to gloat after making off with one of Mrs. Overton’s scullery maids. Still, one had to admire her courage and cunning. Mrs. Overton was a formidable opponent who had to all intents and purposes been mistress of Cressly for the past fifteen years.

According to Oakes, whose unseemly amusement had not been helpful, it had been a veritable coup d’état. One the redoubtable housekeeper never saw coming. Now the staff were confused, wondering who was in charge—Mrs. Overton or the unexplained countess who could raise a scullery maid to lady’s companion overnight. Say what you would, the woman was a brilliant tactician. The housekeeper wanted him to reverse the decision but that would be an intolerable humiliation to Hope, and it was something that he would not do. He was going to have to deal with the ensuing uproar though, and petty disputes were the last thing he needed to be bothered with right now.

Harris was his main concern. He must have known that he was hunted as his cronies died one by one.
I hope it kept him looking over his shoulder all these years. I hope it keeps him up at night as Caroline does me.
It was no accident the man had asked the king for Cressly. He’d still be seeking the treasure he thought was buried here. Though he was a coward who’d hidden his tracks until now, he’d seen an opportunity and greed had overcome caution.
Does he know that Charles told me who had asked for my lands?
If he did, he would know he’d been exposed. That might make him more dangerous. Would he seek a confrontation? Or would he run
?

I should be in London.
He needed information. He needed to find and follow the man. But the king had wasted no time in sending him and his inconvenient mistress on their way. There had been no opportunity to discover more about Harris. Where he lived, what he was up to, what were his weaknesses, his habits, his plans. He’d alerted the sergeant to take the necessary precautions, but after all these years a reckoning was coming, and he’d prefer it be in London or further afield.

This…
wife
. Hope. She was a complication and distraction he certainly didn’t need. He still couldn’t believe that within hours of learning of Harris, a man he’d hunted for years and who might be hunting him, all he could think of was her moonlit May Day dance. He’d taken her shopping,
sightseeing
for God’s sake,
while the man who’d killed his sister might be slipping from his grasp
.

Unable to sleep he shifted onto his back and clasped his hands behind his head. She was right, though, and none of this was her fault. It was because of her his servants still had jobs. He had made a bargain for his own reasons and he had a responsibility to see that she be treated well. An uncomfortable stab of guilt precipitated a drawn-out sigh.
Today can’t have been easy for her.
He should have shielded her from Overton and made her feel at home. He should have made arrangements for a maid and shown her the house himself. He was an experienced and capable commander after all. Surely he could manage two things at once.

He hoped he’d got the room right, at least. It was one of the lightest and brightest and arguably had the best view in the house. He’d told Oakes she liked her plants and flowers and the footmen had scoured the house for everything living and green. It was not as grand as what she’d have been accustomed to in London, but he was fairly certain that she’d be pleased.
I will try and be more attentive to her needs, if only to keep her from trouble. But I must attend to Harris first
.

He closed his eyes and let himself drift as his dark dreams overtook him. Far away, as always, he heard a woman weep.

Rose came the next morning to bring Hope a tray and help her dress, proudly wearing her new green frock and bubbling with excitement. The girl’s enthusiasm was contagious and it wasn’t in Hope’s nature to sit and wait for things to happen. By midmorning they were well embarked on a household tour.

Her first impression had been correct. Most of the house was closed and empty.
I suppose I shouldn’t take his abandonment personally. He seems to have little interest even in his own home.
Certain key rooms were well maintained, though. There was a well-appointed dining room situated in the north wing across the hall from the drawing room she’d been left in yesterday. The captain’s study was farther down the hall and a cozy room with a ceiling painted with wispy clouds and a blue summer sky was hidden off an eastern corridor at the far end of the house. The sofas, chairs and desk were draped in sheets, but the walls were covered with tiny oil paintings and several cabinets and small tables held displays of wondrous curiosities.

Brightly colored corals and polished stones stood on low bookcases. Small sculptures were housed in cabinets alongside clockwork automata of people, animals and even a coach-and-four complete with footmen running alongside. She was particularly taken by a lovely three-story dollhouse furnished in exquisite miniature detail. She ran her hand along a cabinet top and flicked dust from her finger tips. “What a marvelous room! It’s a curiosity cabinet and study. Does no one come here, Rose?”

“No, ma’am,” Rose said with a shudder. “Folk stay away from this part of the house. Some say ’tis here that’s most haunted. I’ve never seen this room before. I didn’t even know that it was here.”

“Excellent! We shall keep it that way. I love this room and I intend to claim it for myself. That will be much easier if no one else wants anything to do with it.”

“But who will have to come here to clean it, ma’am. Or lay a fire?” The girl was clearly nervous the task might fall to her.

“Help me today, Rose, and I shall see to it myself thereafter. I’m not afraid of a little work.” Hope began removing sheets and coverings and with Rose’s reluctant help she spent the rest of the morning dusting, polishing, and cleaning windows. Soon the floors sparkled and the cabinets, furniture and collection of curiosities reflected the sun streaming through the windows.

She stopped to examine a couple of exquisite miniatures of a beautiful golden-haired girl with lovely rounded features and a sweet sunny smile. They were carefully placed in one of the cabinets along with other little treasures. She stood transfixed. It seemed almost as if the girl was trying to send her a message from some distant place or time. Something about the eyes reminded her of the captain.
Will he ever tell me of his family? Would I ever tell him of mine?

She shook off a sudden chill. There was still more of this fascinating hideaway to explore. A comfortable window-seat looked to the water much like her room upstairs. Sitting there she spied a partially concealed door to the right of the fireplace. It led to a flagged terrace flanked by a rose covered wall. She followed the fragrant path to an unkempt garden complete with a sundial and an overgrown fountain. The garden needed pruning and weeding, the fountain had to be cleaned and cleared, but it felt like she’d discovered a place she could make into her own.

They finished the tour in the late afternoon. Other than a billiard room attached to a lofty well-lit library with a long bank of windows overlooking the river, the south wing was unused. Their footsteps echoed behind them as they wandered down the hall. At the far they found an empty stone conservatory with an upper gallery that overlooked the woods and fields below. She imagined its marble fountain burbling merrily amidst exotic plants and trees from around the world and she resolved to write the king’s gardener, her friend Mr. Rose.

Her
Rose tugged at her sleeve and directed a worried look outside. The sky had darkened quickly, with towering pillars of leaden cloud. “We’ve no candles to light our way, my lady, and it’s growing late. Shouldn’t we hurry back now? I’d not like to be caught in these halls once it’s grown full dark.”

Hiding her own uneasiness and exhausted from her explorations, Hope readily agreed. They hurried back to the comfort of lighted rooms and the smell of slow roasting beef. Too tired to endure forced conversation and stiff politeness, Hope ate her supper in her room and promptly sought her bed.

Across the hall and three doors down her husband reached for a bottle. He didn’t want conversation either. He wanted brandy and he wanted to be alone. Today would have been Caroline’s birthday.

~

Hope twisted and moaned, restless in her sleep. Somewhere a loose shutter banged on a wall and she shifted and whimpered as half-heard sounds invaded her dreams. Her heart beat faster and her breath came in shallow gasps as she clutched her blanket, gripping it tight. She twitched and started violently, fighting to wake, trapped by whatever chased her through her nightmare. She woke suddenly as if dragged from her sleep with the eerie feeling that someone had been calling her name. She often woke at night. As a child in a brothel on Drury Lane one always needed to be on guard. She had often rambled the halls in the small hours of the morning when everyone else lay sleeping. Enveloped in the dark she felt invisible and safe. It never used to frighten her, but tonight it did.

The wind had picked up since early evening, and was blowing from the east. Unfamiliar houses made unfamiliar noises. But did they sound like whispers? Footsteps? Or the sound of something lost, calling in the dark? Something clattered in the hall and she stifled a little scream. Creaking floorboards, slamming windows and eerie whispers were nothing more than what was to be expected. The normal grumblings of an elderly house as its joints complained. It was nothing but an overactive imagination that made it seem like anything more.

Fighting an urge to hide beneath her blankets, Hope stiffened her spine and lifted her chin, reminding herself how much she loved a good storm. They filled her with anticipation and a sense of power, which was something she needed desperately right now. She drew a loose, floor-length silk robe tight around her and set off for the library with its magnificent view.

She walked back and forth between the library and billiard room as the rain drove across the river in great angry gusts. Rather than being excited, she felt distinctly on edge. In the city one watched a storm from within a bulwark of buildings, but here in the country one stood directly in its path. It felt wilder, rawer, and far more dangerous, like a wild beast approaching, roaring its hunger and snapping off limbs as it moved through the forest. There were the same familiar rumblings as thunder loomed closer, but other sounds, too, were born on the wind. Shrieks and wailing and mournful cries.
It’s nothing but the wind tearing through the woods
. Yet she couldn’t help thinking of Rose’s fearful tales.

Something shifted and stirred in the air around her and a bright crack of lightning illuminated the sky. A face flickered in the window and she turned to run with a startled cry. She slammed into something warm and hard.

“I see the storm woke you, too. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

He held her tight, to keep her from falling and she clutched at his shoulders with a gasp of relief. She could feel his strength, coiled beneath her fingers. It made her feel safe in an oddly familiar way. He held her a little longer than necessary, before letting her slide down his body until her feet touched the ground.

He seemed different somehow. His movements were relaxed, his voice was husky and she could smell brandy on his breath. His arms were still wrapped around her and his arousal pressed firm against her belly, weakening her limbs and making her melt inside. Here was the chance she had been waiting for. To teach him he was no better than she was. To make him hers.

“I heard noises in my room. They frightened me,” she whispered, smoothing and straightening the front of his robe before sliding beneath it to place a dainty hand on his chest. His naked skin was hot to her touch and his heart beat strong beneath her palm.

“So you came down here all by yourself in the dark?”

“I came down here to better watch the storm.” She took a step closer, so the soft curves of her body molded against him. He was naked beneath his banyan and her fingers trailed across his taut belly, then curled around his arousal with a firm squeeze. He swelled in her hand and she stood on tiptoe to whisper against his throat. “They make me feel alive. They make me ache with longing and feed some restless need. Do you feel their power, Captain Nichols? When is the last time you had a woman?”

He took her hand in a hard grip and forced her to take a step back. “Madam, I am drunk, but in the morning I shall be sober and you will still be the king’s whore.”

“And your wife. I’ll still be that, too,” she said, stung.

“Good God, madam. You act like a bitch in heat. You are his. Would you have it otherwise?”

“And you a hound with the scent, sir.” It wasn’t going at all as she’d planned. She was angry and despite herself her feelings were hurt. “You want me. Your prick can’t lie. You’re just not man enough to act on it. I may be his bitch, but you are his cur and the master is far from the kennel. Why shouldn’t we please ourselves?”

“Have you no love for him, then? Are you truly so venal? He has treated you well enough. At least show some honor to the man who has fed and clothed you. You owe him that much.” His voice was laced with disgust.

“No!” Her angry shout startled them both. “Love for him? Honor? I owe him nothing. I’ll not love a man who does not love me. He’s no better than you! You are hypocrites both. And I am a courtesan, not a whore. I am educated. I can dance and sing. I can speak French and write and read. I have even learned to do my sums. I have had three lovers. Yes...they bought and paid for my company, but I’ve been faithful to each one. I daresay that’s more than you or he can say.”

“I pray you forgive my doubts regarding your faithfulness when I have just removed your dainty hand from about my cock. I am a man, Hope. And yes…I have your scent. I spring to attention whenever you walk by. It’s in your voice, your look, your walk. Women like you were born to entice, but like it or not, you’re not some strumpet I can walk away from when all is said and done. Your name and thus your honor is now bound to mine. As long as you are his I will treat you as guest, not a lover or a wife.”