“It was all bravado—I was a quivering jelly on the inside! I’m afraid I said it in front of his fiancée, Mary Butler. She may refuse the match.”
“Mary Butler is a child of fifteen and has no say in anything whatsoever. Ormonde will see that the match is brought off. The Devonshire fortune is the largest in England,” Christian said dismissively. “My grandson always did lust after you. So now he has the nude Venus and you would like to get it back?”
“I thought it a total calamity that brought everything crashing down around me. Then I found out I was having a child and suddenly the portrait’s importance in the grand scheme of things has become almost insignificant.”
“Men are so venal, especially Cavendish men. This can actually work in our favor, if we stoop to their tactics. Naturally, I wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail my grandson.”
“Do you think it would work, Christian?”
“All I have to do is threaten to withhold my signature on a couple of documents pertaining to his inheritance, and voilà, your portrait is miraculously returned. When I come to visit Princess Mary, I shall issue the young lecher an ultimatum.”
“I shall be forever in your debt.”
“Yes, you will have to name me godmother to your babe.”
“Thank you, Christian. That will be a great honor.” Velvet set her teacup down. “I wish it were Minette who was visiting—we were such close friends. I’ve never met Princess Mary.”
“It will be interesting to watch the byplay between Mary and Henry Jermyn,” the dowager said with a coy look.
“The Earl of Saint Albans? Really?”
“Really! Gossip had them secretly wedded at one point, but Henrietta Maria stoutly denied that to me. Mary was a widow at nineteen, so who could blame her for taking a lover?”
“You amaze me. You know all the Court intrigue.”
“Yes, one of the advantages of being a confidante of the queen. Old women indulge in endless gossip.” Christian leaned forward confidentially. “One of Princess Mary’s ladies is Anne Hyde, the chancellor’s daughter. I have it on good authority that she is in love with Charles’s brother James.”
“The Duke of York has a reputation as a rake, I’m afraid.”
Christian’s laugh trilled out merrily. “Velvet, you never cease to amaze me. There is no greater rake in England than Charles Stuart, yet your infatuation for him blinds you to his blatant lechery. In your eyes, the king can do no wrong.”
Velvet blushed as she thought about the long-legged dancer Charles had amused himself with at Roehampton. She thought of the fair Countess of Falmouth and the very pregnant Barbara Palmer. “No, I’m not blind to it any longer and his lax morals have cured me of my infatuation, but he will always be my friend, no matter how many mistresses he keeps.”
“That is most creditable, darling. You will make a wonderful mother, Velvet.”
Montgomery had never been so glad to see the smoke and church spires of London in his life. Princess Mary and her entourage of maids of honor traveled at a snail’s pace, no matter how organized the captain and his King’s Guard had been.
Unloading the ship from The Hague had taken two full days because the ladies had brought their horses as well as a mountain of baggage that included beds and furnishings. Princess Mary had stayed abed for forty-eight hours to recover from mal de mer. In addition to carriages, Montgomery had had to hire baggage carts, dray animals and drivers. With great efficiency he had sent a man ahead to reserve accommodation in Canterbury for their first stop after Dover Castle. This was a scant fifteen miles, yet he was greatly irritated to realize the royal party would not cover that reasonable distance.
Montgomery curbed his impatience and made alternate arrangements for the ladies. On the second day, his planning was more realistic and he sent a man to reserve lodgings only ten miles hence. The captain, however, had reckoned without the rain. Princess Mary adamantly refused to travel anywhere until the sun came out.
This is England, woman!
Greysteel kept his tongue between his teeth, while he silently cursed royal ladies, their addled attendants and every other spoiled female on earth.
By the fourth day Montgomery had a damned good idea why shrewd Charles Stuart had not come himself to meet his sister. He thought with affectionate longing of the young men he had commanded in the army. Under horrendous conditions they had never complained, never bemoaned their lot, never been peevish or spiteful or thankless as were these pampered bitches.
On the sixth day he offered up a prayer of thanks that Velvet was an angel to live with, compared with these women. If his wife ever behaved as they did, he would take her over his knee and tan her arse, which was exactly what this lot needed.
It was day eight before they reached Southwark and prepared to pass over London Bridge. Montgomery dispatched one of his men to alert His Majesty that they would arrive at Whitehall sometime before dark. He scribbled a note to Charles, telling him the number of ladies as well as a tally of the baggage wagons, and advised that it would take at least two dozen servants to unload everything.
As it turned out, Beatrice, one of Princess Mary’s ladies, began to feel poorly, and Mary herself developed a headache from the raucous sounds of London traffic. As a result they urged Montgomery to make all speed for Whitehall and the entourage arrived at five in the early evening.
While the baggage carts trundled into the courtyard, and the ladies’ horses were taken to the stables, the carriages they were riding in stopped at Whitehall Palace’s main entrance. The weather had turned bitter cold and the ladies, all proclaiming they were freezing, pulled their voluminous fur capes close as they stepped from their coaches.
King Charles, James, Edward Hyde, Henry Jermyn and the ever present Buckingham were there to greet the royal party. Montgomery dismounted and escorted Princess Mary to her brother. He waited while Charles embraced his sister, in case the king had further instructions for him.
His Majesty conveyed his gratitude with a speaking look and murmured, “I deeply appreciate this service you have done me. I am well aware it was a thankless task, Montgomery. I now grant you leave to be about your own affairs, but I shall miss you.”
“Thank you, Sire.”
Montgomery and his guards proceeded to Whitehall’s vast stables to tend to their mounts. The Blues took great pride in their horses and never left the grooming, feeding and watering to the stablemen.
Charles greeted all his sister’s attendants graciously. His easy charm was in complete contrast with Mary’s personality. She was cool, aloof and haughty, as she thought befitted her station, and the king had no illusions that she felt much affection for either him or the other members of her family. He watched with melancholy eyes as Chancellor Edward Hyde and his daughter, Anne, had a touching reunion.
“Mary, my dear, an entire wing has been prepared for you and your ladies. I want you to be happy here and if there is aught we can do to make you more comfortable, please let us know. I took the liberty of arranging a formal reception to welcome you tomorrow night, assuming you would wish to rest this first evening at Whitehall.”
“I have a fierce migraine and I am frozen to the bone. I ask that your servants set up my bed immediately.”
“My dear, the beds are all aired and awaiting you.”
“I insist on my own bed and feather mattresses, Charles. I would never sleep otherwise.”
“It shall be as you wish, Mary. Apartments have also been readied for you at St. James’s Palace, where Mother resides. The building is not so ancient and dilapidated as Whitehall. You may reside at either palace or alternate to suit yourself.”
“How is Mother? Riddled with guilt over Henry, I imagine.”
“One would imagine so, though she shows no trace of it. Ah, here we are. This entire floor is yours, to ensure privacy.”
It was close to seven by the time Montgomery tended his horse and then supervised the unloading of the baggage wagons. He could have left it to the palace servants, but he wanted them to know which carts held Princess Mary’s bed and baggage and the items she would demand immediately. Though he was glad his duty was over and done, his temper was still somewhat testy. He decided tomorrow would be soon enough to turn his guards over to their new captain and thank them for their loyal service.
He had brought a small gift for Charles that the king could experiment with in his laboratory. From a vessel in Dover he had obtained a canister of sodium nitrate known as saltpeter and another of potassium nitrate known as gunpowder. Greysteel carried the gift up to the king’s private rooms and gave it to Prodgers. “This is something I picked up for His Majesty to use in his laboratory. I got it off a ship from China.”
“Thank you, Lord Montgomery. That was most thoughtful. His Majesty will be most pleased.” Prodgers cleared his throat. “There is a matter I wanted to see you about, if you have a moment, my lord?”
“Of course, Prodgers.”
“From time to time, ladies of the Court often send gifts to His Majesty. They give them to Will Chiffinch, who in turn passes them to me for presentation to the king.”
Montgomery listened patiently, wishing he’d get to the point.
“Chiffinch passed along to me a portrait of Lady Montgomery, which I haven’t yet presented to His Majesty.”
Montgomery’s mouth set. He’d no knowledge of Velvet having her portrait painted, but if she wished Charles to have it, it didn’t surprise him. “Is there a problem?”
“The matter is a delicate one, my lord. If you would come into the anteroom for a moment?”
Montgomery looked at the crate Prodgers indicated.
“Take a look at the portrait, my lord.”
Greysteel began to lift the painting from the crate. “Judas Iscariot!” Velvet’s naked likeness smiled at him seductively and he quickly shoved it back into the crate. “Who the hellfire has seen this besides you, Prodgers?” he demanded.
“Will Chiffinch gave me the crate, but I have no idea if he looked inside.”
“I shall relieve you of your problem immediately.” He lifted the crate with hands that wanted to smash it to smithereens.
Montgomery unlocked the chamber that used to belong to Emma, carried the painting inside and then locked the door. Before he even removed his coat or his sword, he opened the crate, lifted out the portrait and stood it against the wall.
Without doubt it was one of the loveliest, most provocative paintings he had ever seen. Velvet’s flawless, porcelain flesh looked as if it would be warm and alive to the touch. Her red gold hair looked as if it would curl possessively about his fingers if he brushed them across the shining waves.
An explosive combination of fury and jealousy rose up in him. “The little bitch!” His fists clenched. “That unfaithful, wanton little bitch!”
Chapter Twenty-five
The door flew open with such force it crashed against the wall.
“Greysteel!” Velvet, who had been sitting to put on her shoes, jumped up from the chair. Her pulse began to race at the sight of him. “I’m happy you’re back. I missed you so much.”
She saw his clenched fists and his thunderous brow. She sensed that something had upset him, but could not wait to share her joyous news. “I’m going to have a baby.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Who’s the father ?”
His words pierced her heart like three steel-tipped arrows. She staggered a little and, to steady herself, quickly placed her hand on the back of the chair. Her other hand went to her belly to protect her babe. Then her chin went up defiantly, and her eyes glittered emerald green.
“Charles, of course! What woman wouldn’t want the king to be the father of her child?”
Montgomery stood staring at her. Raw pain tore through his gut, and he fought the violence that rose up in his brain. His fists clenched tighter in an effort to control himself and his gorge rose with contempt. “Prodgers gave me your wanton portrait—it’s in Emma’s chamber.”
He’s seen the naked painting!
“You don’t understand.”
His lips curled back and bared his teeth like a snarling wolf. “No,
you
don’t understand. I am no complaisant Roger Palmer. The marriage is over, Lizzy. It’s finished!”
Velvet stared at the door for a full minute after he left. She felt nauseated and, as if she were in a trance, walked over to the small refectory table to pour some ginger wine. Suddenly she picked up the decanter and hurled it at the door. It shattered into crystal shards and the wine splashed the ceiling.
“I hate you, Greysteel Montgomery!”
An hour later, Emma opened the door and as she entered, broken glass crunched beneath the soles of her shoes. “What on earth is that?” She hurried to light the candles and saw Velvet in the big chair. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“I . . . I was . . . contemplating.”
“Are you unwell, my love? Did you drop a glass?”
“No, I deliberately threw the bloody thing!” Actually, she had not been contemplating. She had been sitting, thinking nothing, feeling nothing, with every sense numbed. Now she came out of her trance. “Come with me, Emma.”
A mystified Emma followed Velvet down the corridor to the private chamber she used to occupy. The door was locked, but Emma had a key.
Velvet saw the crate immediately. “Help me carry this.” The two women each lifted an end and took it to the Montgomerys’ apartment. “Thank you, Emma.” She sat down in the chair, knowing she should be immensely relieved that the naked Venus was back in her possession, yet the thought that went through her mind was,
What does it matter now?
As Emma carefully picked up the glass shards, Velvet sat deep in thought.
He said Prodgers gave him the portrait. That swine Cavendish must have asked Prodgers to give it to Charles. Because I wouldn’t give in to his blackmail and let him have Roehampton, the whoreson carried out his threat.