The King's Courtesan. Judith James

The name is familiar. Does he have property in Nottinghamshire?”

      “Yes, he does.”

      “I did ask Clarendon to find some land for a fellow whose fundraising and…other connections have been vital to the crown. He told me the man specifically mentioned the lands in question. Does your captain have any useful relatives or connections at court? Besides you?”

      “Not that I’m aware of, Charles. He was a parliamentarian soldier and country gentleman. A baronet, I believe.

      “And what concern is he to you?”

      “He intervened with Cromwell when I was arrested, and argued for me on my behalf. Without his help I would have been transported or hanged.”

      “The devil you say! You have quite the knack for landing in deep waters, haven’t you, Elizabeth? But what a pretty tale. Quite diverting. A modest gentleman of chivalrous character on a country estate, desperate to keep his lands. Is he handsome?”

      “Well…yes. Quite,” Elizabeth answered, rather flustered. “But, Charles, that has nothing to do with why I’m asking.”

      “No, no. Of course not. If you were the type to be turned by a pretty face you would have surely chosen me.”

      They both laughed and Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with affection. “You are in truth a very attractive man, Charles Stuart, and you know it well.”

      He grinned and raised his glass to her in salute. “But not quite as attractive as that damned impertinent poet. You’ve ruined him, you know. He’ll be spouting love verses soon.” She blushed and hid her face against the spaniel’s silky coat.

      “Tell me more about him. Your captain friend. Is he married? If he’s not too proud, I might have a use for him.”

      “Well, no, he isn’t married, but he is rather proud—”

      “Excellent! This is good news indeed, Elizabeth. I thank you for bringing it to my attention. Now if you’ll forgive me I must speak with Clarendon at once. There’s little time, you see. I look forward to seeing you and William at the ball tonight.”

      Charles hurried his stunned and sputtering guest from the room and called for his chief minister. He was delighted. With Elizabeth’s help he had hit on the perfect solution. He would grant her request. The honorable captain of whom she spoke so highly would keep his lands, see his holdings doubled and be made an earl besides, provided he marry Hope Mathews. He had only to remove her to the country, treat her with all courtesy and comfort befitting a special friend of the king and return her to court when the time was right.

      The message went out shortly after the chancellor entered his chambers. Captain Robert Nichols was ordered to present himself at court at once.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      Cressly

      HE APPROACHED the manor house across a pristine field veiled by a thin dusting of snow. The air was cold and sharp to breathe, but Kate Bishop, the dairy maid, had kissed him, and he didn’t feel the cold.

      The moment his parents left to visit his uncle, he’d hurried to the village to stand vigil by her door. His patience had been rewarded. He caught her first and claimed her as his Valentine, blushing as he offered her a pretty blue paper with her name writ on it in gold. He’d labored over it for hours in secret, knowing his parents would not approve. It was well worth the effort. She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him, and it warmed him all the way home.

      He stopped in the middle of the field, as happy as he’d ever been in all his twelve years. The woods were still. The silence so deep he could hear the excited beating of his own heart. And then a distant shriek. A night owl, he thought, desperately hungry to be searching for food so late. He heard it again. A panicked scream, coming from the manor house. Caroline!

      He raced through the field and skidded across the stone-flagged courtyard, only to be brought short by the sight of five blooded horses wandering loose in front of a smashed and broken door. Heart pounding, his terror for Caroline a sick lump in his throat, he eased into the entrance hall and inched his way along the corridor. The servants must have fled or hidden and there was no sign of his father’s men at arms. As he neared the drawing room he heard Caroline sobbing, and the sound of hoarse shouts and the laughter of drunken men.

      He leaned against the doorjamb and peered around the corner. The drawing room was littered with broken furniture, shredded hangings and paintings that had been torn from the walls. A lone man at arms with a sword in his back laid sprawled across a table. Caroline huddled in a corner in a tight little ball. Her dress was ripped, her favorite blue ribbons were torn from her hair and her face was bloody, bruised and beaten. For a moment he thought he was going to be sick. This wouldn’t be happening if not for him. He should have been there to protect her.

      There were five men wearing the brightly colored garb and plumed hats that marked them as His Majesty’s cavaliers, but under their elegant trappings they reeked of unwashed clothes and alcohol. He bared his teeth and bit back a feral growl. They were ignoring Caroline for now, tapping at walls with the butts of their swords and digging at the floorboards. He considered darting in, grabbing her and making a run for it, but he didn’t even know if she could walk. He wished he could give her some signal to let her know she wasn’t alone. But he couldn’t risk alerting her captors.

      The guilt, the terror, the boiling rage at seeing Caroline so abused, gave way to an icy calm. His breathing slowed, his heart steadied and his attention focused to a razor’s edge as he assessed his opponents. A bullet-headed man next to Caroline without his sword. A handsome black-haired man dressed finer than the rest, commanding the center of the room. A rat-faced fellow and a blond man with a split lip knocking on walls, and a bookish-looking fellow with a wickedly curved dagger poking at floorboards in the corner. He observed each in turn before slipping past the doorway and continuing down the hall.

      The longsword was mounted on the wall in his father’s study. He’d eyed it many a time, fascinated by its lethal beauty and the chilling inscription etched into the blade. Lex Talionis, the law of revenge.

      The blue steel blade snicked and hissed as he slid it from its mounting. Gripping the wolf’s-head pommel with both hands he laid the weapon cross-shoulder and went back for his sister. He ar rived just in time to see the bullet-headed man grab Caroline by her arm and wrench her to her feet. His fingers itched and he brought his weapon forward, silent, shifting his grip so he held it like a spear for stabbing. Not yet, though. He waited for them to turn away.

      “Come, little mistress.” The man gave Caroline a shake. “Tell us where it is, or what you’ve heard, and we’ll leave you in peace to play with your dollies.”

      “Speak for yourself, Harris,” the blond man said. “She’s too old for dolls, that one, and we’ve other things she can play with.”

      Bullet Head shook her again, then fisted his hand in what remained of her dress and lifted her off the ground, so her feet had to scrabble for purchase. “Is that right, pretty mistress? You want to play games?” he cooed.

      Caroline was sobbing and pleading, fighting for air as the collar of her dress cut off her breath, trying to tell them she didn’t know. She didn’t understand what they wanted.

      “Get on with it, gentlemen,” the black-haired one snapped, apparently more sober than the rest. “There’s militia in the area. We haven’t all day. It’s clear she knows nothing. Finish her, Johnny, and let’s be gone.”

      “Well, that’s a bloody waste of an evening,” Johnny Harris protested. “I’ve got a use for her if the rest of you don’t. Move on if you please, lads. I shan’t be long.”

      “Pah,” Golden Hair spat. “Let’s all have a go, then. ’Tis only sporting.” He joined the one named Johnny and yanked at her skirt.

      Caroline began a desperate struggle, clawing and kicking.

      “Enough, you damn fools,” the man with the curved blade shouted.