Vixens. Bertrice SmallЧитать онлайн книгу.
queen colored, and the pink in her pale cheeks actually made her look very pretty briefly. “She doesn’t really look very dangerous from a distance, Charles,” the queen said softly.
The king laughed. “No,” he agreed, “she doesn’t.” But she does have the most kissable mouth, he thought, his dark eyes narrowing speculatively. Were they related? No. Her mother had been a Lindley. Her father the son of some minor Irish lordling. Yet she was his cousin’s niece. But a widow and no virgin. Her beauty attracted him, but he had reached an age where he wanted more than beauty in a lover.
“My lord, they come this way,” the queen interrupted his musings.
The not-so-royal Stuart had seen the contemplative look in his royal cousin’s eye. He recognized it from his long acquaintance with his relation. The look would not have been for his daughter, or for sweet Diana. God’s blood, he swore silently. Then he pushed the suspicions from his thoughts. Of course, the king would be curious about Fancy given the scandal surrounding her. It was only curiosity. The king already had a delightful new mistress. Reaching the foot of the throne, the duke of Lundy bowed low saying as he did, “My liege.” He then took the queen’s dainty hand in his, and kissed it. “My lady.”
The king stood up with a welcoming smile. “Cousin!” he exclaimed as if he were seeing Charlie for the first time in many months. “We welcome you back to court.” The king was very elegant tonight in his suit of violet velvet. The buttons on his long coat, which ran from his neckline to his thighs, were diamonds set in delicate gold frames. The lace at his throat, and cascading from his cuffs, was gold. His dark curls were lavish and fell about his broad shoulders. Even as he stepped down from his dais, he was an extremely tall man. He took Jasmine’s hand in his and kissed it. “Ahh, madame,” he said in smoky tones. “If I were but ten years older.” His look was smoldering.
Jasmine laughed heartily. “And I sixty years younger, Your Majesty,” she told him, “but you do still have the power to charm this ancient heart of mine, for I have always had a weakness for the Royal Stuarts, as this ducal son of mine will give evidence.”
The king chuckled. “You have not lost your edge, madame,” he told her admiringly. Then he turned to the duchess of Lundy. “My favorite Barbara,” he said, kissing her hand with a smile.
“Majesty, surely there is another lady who may lay claim to that title,” the duchess of Lundy quickly protested.
“No longer,” the king answered her casually so that those standing nearby were certain to hear. “Dark green favors you, madame,” the king noted. He next addressed Cynara, “Welcome back to court, my lovely young cousin. And to you also, sweet Siren,” he said to Diana. “But here is a lady I have not met amongst you.” The black eyes turned themselves upon Fancy.
“My niece, Mistress Frances Devers, from the Colonies, Sire,” Charlie said, making the introduction. “But she is called Fancy by those who know and love her. I do not know if Your Majesty ever met my sister Fortune. Fancy is her youngest child.”
The king took Fancy’s hand in both of his. “My dear Fancy,” he began. “May I welcome you home to England?” He then kissed the delicate hand in his, but he did not let it go. “Come, my dear, and let me introduce you to the queen.”
For a moment Fancy wasn’t certain she was breathing. Cynara had said the king had charm, and he surely did. Remembering her manners she curtsied, saying breathlessly, “Your Majesty is so kind, and I thank you.” Then as he brought her before the queen and made the introduction Fancy again curtsied low. “I am honored to be brought before Your Majesty,” she said. “I never thought to meet my queen.” She smiled shyly.
Why the poor child, the queen thought. She is even farther from all she loves than I am. She held out a beringed hand to Fancy, who immediately took the hand up, and kissed it. “We are pleased to welcome you to England and to our court, Mistress Devers,” the queen said graciously, then she continued daringly, “We hope the sadness of the past few months may be wiped away by the good company of your family and of this merry court. You will be welcome in my chambers, Mistress Devers.”
Fancy was stunned. She wasn’t quite certain what the queen had meant, but she was intelligent enough to realize she had the royal approval. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said. “Your kindness is almost more than I can bear.” Tears shone in her eyes.
“And you have my favor as well,” the king murmured low, kissing her hand a final time before releasing it.
Across the room Barbara Villiers, Lady Castlemaine, watched, her look sour. “He already plans her seduction,” she hissed to the gentleman at her side.
“My dear cousin,” the duke of Buckingham answered her, “you could not expect to keep his affections forever. You have had him longer than any so far. You have gained riches and position for all your children. What more can you want? You will never be queen, Barbara. Even you must realize that by now.”
“He has taken to slumming lately,” Barbara Villiers muttered. “First, that guttersnipe of an actress, and now this cow-eyed little colonial.”
George Villiers, duke of Buckingham, laughed at her pique. “Nell Gwyn is most amusing, Barbara,” he said, “but as for Charlie’s niece she is only newly arrived, and scandal surrounds her. The king is merely curious. Nothing more. But, if he were more than curious, it would not be your concern, dear cousin. Not any longer. You must accept the facts, Barbara. The king is finished with you.”
“He seeks younger women to convince himself that he is yet young,” the lady Castlemaine said. “And I am now twenty-six.”
“It is true you are not in the first flush of your youth any longer,” her cousin replied, “but you are still a fine figure of a woman, Barbara. You could possibly have yourself a rich husband if you wished.”
“I do not need a husband,” she snapped. “What the hell would I want a husband for, George? I had a royal lover, and any other lover I take will not only pale in comparison to the king, but will certainly be my social inferior as well. How can I be another man’s mistress after having been the king’s? The bastard has ruined me for anyone else! I hate him for it!”
“You do not have to be any man’s mistress, Barbara. Take charge of your life. Take lovers, many and varied. Then no man can say you are his alone, and that he now possesses His Majesty’s leavings.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!” Her voice was now raised and sharp. Those standing near her and the duke turned.
“Hush, sweet cousin,” he soothed her. “You do not want to attract the attention of the court gossips now, do you? God forbid that anyone should feel pity for you, Barbara.”
“You can be such a brute, George,” she said low, and her gaze went back across the room where the king was now staring after his cousin and the women with the duke of Lundy. “’Odsblood, George! Will you look at that little colonial’s jewelry. I am certain that it all belongs to her grandmother. The old dowager has always had the most fantastic collection of jewels. I remember seeing her once when I was a very little child. She had rubies the size of robin’s eggs. I wonder who will inherit all her wealth.”
“Her family tends to keep their wealth to themselves,” the duke of Buckingham said in answer to his cousin’s questions.
“ ’Twill be several lucky young men who wed those girls,” Lady Castlemaine remarked astutely, watching as the objects of her interest withdrew from the royal presence.
“Did you see the way he looked at you,” Cynara whispered to Fancy. “When you curtsied his eyes plunged so deep into your neckline that I thought he would not be able to raise them up again.”
“I will admit to having felt the heat of his glance,” Fancy said. “He is not a handsome man, yet there is something about him that is most fascinating. His eyes mesmerize you when he looks at you, yet I sense a kindness in him as well,” she noted.
“They say he is very good to