Virginia Henley (9 page)

For a while, Montgomery let her take the lead, content to watch how happy and carefree she was, galloping across the meadows, pretending to be the lady of the manor. It was easy to see that she was enchanted with the place, and Greysteel suddenly knew that he wanted Roehampton.
Velvet may be able to resist me, but the potent allure of this exquisite estate so close to London would capture her heart and hold her fast.

A slight pressure of his knees brought his horse, Falcon, abreast of hers. “How about a race around the lake?”

She was off on the wind, laughter trailing behind her.

Greysteel let her lead until they were two-thirds of the way around; then swiftly, surely, he closed the distance between them. When their stirrups touched, he reached over and deftly plucked her from the saddle and set her before him.

Though she gasped from his audacity, her eyes were filled with joy and excitement at the reckless thing he had done.

He turned from the lake into a freshly mowed hay-field, which slowed his horse to a canter. He jumped to the ground and lifted his arms, knowing she’d take the chance. He rolled, cushioning her body from the impact, and they came to rest against a sheaf of hay.

Laughter made her lush breasts rise and fall as she gazed up at him. “A gentleman would have let me win!”

“I’m a
man,
Velvet. I’ve too much pride to let a female beat me at any game.” He picked a straw from her disheveled hair.

If a man is smitten, he will find an excuse to touch you
. Bess had also written:
If you want to be kissed, lick your lips.

Velvet carefully touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip.

In a flash, Greysteel took possession of her soft mouth and groaned with the pleasure it brought him. His powerful arms went about her back and he held her captive with the tips of her breasts against the solid muscle of his chest. “Will you reconsider our betrothal, Velvet?”

“Montgomery, I am penniless. Without a dowry it is impossible—do you think I have no pride? When Charles is restored to the throne and I am an heiress, ask me again.”

He was stunned. “When Charles is restored? Velvet, that could take another decade, or mayhap it will never happen!”

She flung herself at him in outrage and pummeled his chest. “You faithless swine! You must believe in him, you must! I will never lose faith in him. Not in a
hundred years.”

She was fierce as a wildcat and though Greysteel realized her trust was completely unrealistic, he felt a sharp stab of envy at the deep devotion she felt for Charles Stuart.

“Forgive me. You were filled with joy, and I spoiled it.”

She stood up and brushed off her skirt. “Of course you didn’t. How could I suffer a moment’s unhappiness in a magic place like Roehampton?”

“I’ll get the horses—lunch will soon be ready.”

She took the palfrey’s bridle. “I shall walk down to the lake and look at the swans . . . perhaps make a wish. Will you tell Christian I wanted to be alone for a while?”

When Greysteel entered the manor house, he knew he would do his utmost to buy it. The polished oak floors, leaded windows and high beamed ceilings spoke of its Elizabethan origins. He searched out the countess. “Velvet is fascinated by Roehampton. She’s still exploring. Why don’t you put me to work?”

“If you could carry the table and chairs out to the terrace, we could dine alfresco. The flower borders are ablaze with yellow and bronze chrysanthemums—the first blooms of autumn.”

Greysteel carried out the table, and the housekeeper set it with linen and silver. He brought out some cushioned chairs and he and the dowager countess sat down. “It is no secret that I would like Velvet to reconsider our betrothal.”

Christian eyed him coyly. “Have you asked her again?”

“I have, but she resists me. She finds it easy to say no to me, I’m afraid. Now, if I had something to offer her that she could not resist, I believe I could change her mind.”

“You are offering her marriage; what more could she ask? I am in favor of this match. I think you are exactly what Velvet needs. Is there something I can do to help persuade her?”

“You could sell me this manor house, my lady.”

“Roehampton? Oh, dear, I am rather superstitious about selling land. It goes against my acquisitive instincts.”

“Velvet has fallen head over heels in love with the property and the horses. She would thrive in a setting like this.”

“Yes,” Christian said slowly, “I can see its attraction for a young woman who has had everything taken away from her. The security of having her own home would be a great incentive. But I’m afraid Roehampton isn’t for sale. Don’t be disappointed—there are only twelve acres that bring in no income whatsoever.”

“I am not considering it for crops or profit. I think it would be perfect for Velvet and her future children.”

“I admire a man who knows exactly what he wants and goes after it. But I advise you to look elsewhere. Ah, here comes the fair damsel now. Not a word of our conversation to Velvet. You mustn’t get her hopes up when Roehampton is not for sale.”

“Please don’t say no—say you will think about it.”

Christian spoke to Velvet. “The fresh air has put roses in your cheeks. Greysteel would like a row on the lake after lunch, but I’m sure he’d prefer your company to mine, darling.”

“If I may have a tour of the manor house first, I will gladly go out on the lake.”

After a lunch of lamb cutlets with fresh mint from the garden and a cheese soufflé, followed by a cream-filled apple tart, Christian took Velvet and Greysteel through the manor house. As they moved from room to room she watched Velvet’s face for her reaction. When they explored the bedchambers and she saw the longing in her eyes as she looked from the upper windows, the countess saw that Velvet had fallen in love with Roehampton.

The autumn light was fading from the afternoon sky by the time they arrived back in the city. They parted company at Ludgate Hill, with Montgomery turning down toward Salisbury Court and the carriage proceeding on to Bishopsgate.

When the dowager countess arrived home she was surprised to learn that a visitor awaited her. The butler had barely uttered his name when the young man descended the grand staircase as if the mansion and everything in it belonged to him. “Surprise, surprise, Grandmother. I’ve come to banish your boredom.”

“Cav? Is that you, my boy? Come to banish your own, I warrant.” Christian turned to Velvet. “This is my grandson, Lord Will Cavendish. Selfish to the core, as only an eighteen-year-old can be.”

The Earl of Devonshire’s son was handsome in the extreme. His blue eyes and thick blond hair gave the impression of a youthful sweetness he did not possess. His glance slid over Velvet, taking note of her damp, bedraggled skirts and her muddied slippers. “Is this a new maid?”

Velvet flushed. “Please forgive my appearance, Lord Cavendish. We were in the country all day.”

“No, Cav, this is not a new maid. Her nobility is quite on par with yours, dear boy. It gives me the greatest pleasure in the world to present Mistress Velvet Cavendish, who is a guest of mine—an
invited
guest, I might add, unlike someone else I could name. I must tell the butler to lock up the whiskey.”

“You have a wicked wit,
grand-mère,
which is why I adore you.”

“I am delighted to meet you, Lord Cavendish. Please excuse me. I must go up and change.”

Once Velvet reached the security of her bedchamber, she was most reluctant to leave it again that night. Young “Cav” had made her feel distinctly self-conscious and she found herself wishing that he had never come. Since she wasn’t the least hungry, she didn’t want to go downstairs for dinner. Finally, she convinced herself that it was only good manners to allow Christian and her grandson to spend the evening alone together.

 

When Cav poured his grandmother a second glass of wine and carried it into her favorite sitting room, she suspected that he wanted something. She watched the play of candlelight on his golden hair.
He looks exactly like his grandfather. Let us hope and pray the resemblance is only physical.

“You have no idea what a blessed relief it is to get away from Buckinghamshire. The slow pace of Latimers suits Father down to the bloody ground, but in truth the estate is no more than a glorified sheep farm.”

“Don’t disdain sheep, dear boy. Their wool provides you with all of life’s luxuries.”

“Ah, I do appreciate that, Grandmother, but it makes for a stultifying existence. I swear that the ennui I experience in Buckinghamshire will drive me mad if I stay there any longer.”

“An eighteen-year-old shouldn’t know the meaning of
ennui.
”

“My own sentiment exactly! I shall be nineteen soon, a man in fact, and as such, I loathe and detest the idea of having to live with my parents. I need a home of my own, and not one in the wilds of Buckinghamshire. London is much more to my taste.”

“I fail to see how living with your grandmother would be any less stultifying than living with your parents,” she said dryly.

“Oh, no, I’m not talking about living here in Bishopsgate. Roehampton is the property I have in mind. Being just a couple of miles from London makes it an ideal home for a bachelor.”

“Roehampton belongs to me,” she reminded him.

“As does all Cavendish property. But shortly, you will pass it on to my father. Then in turn he will pass it on to me. Why should I have to wait, when Roehampton suits my purposes now?”

You think I’ll die soon, but not soon enough, apparently.
“Did it never occur to you that I might wish to sell it?”

He laughed. “Grandmother, you cannot sell entailed property. It can only be inherited by your lineal descendants.”

“I am most impressed that you know the law. It tells me that you haven’t frittered away your entire eighteen years. It may come as a shock, but Roehampton is not entailed property.”

He stared, speechless for a moment. “Then in theory you could give it straight to me, without Father getting it first?”

“In theory, yes, dear boy. In practice, not a chance.”

“Why ever not?” he demanded aggressively.

“I have made arrangements to sell Roehampton to Greysteel Montgomery, heir to the Earl of Eglinton.”

E
arly the next morning, a footman arrived at Salisbury Court with a letter from the dowagerʹs steward, Mr. Burke, telling Montgomery that she had reconsidered his offer to purchase Roehampton. After assessing its value, Lady Cavendish was asking one thousand pounds for the estate. If he wished the sale to be completed today and the deed registered in his name, he was to meet Burke and Lady Cavendish at the chambers of her lawyers, Benson and Wilcox, at the Inns of Court.

Greysteel was elated at her change of heart and in his opinion the price was reasonable. He wondered what had occurred to make her change her mind, but decided to act upon the offer immediately. He scribbled a note of acceptance, saying he’d be at the Inns of Court at two o’clock, and gave it to the footman.

Montgomery then went to the Temple and asked Samuel Lawson to make him out a draft for one thousand pounds.

“Do you want this taken from your account, my lord, or do you wish to arrange a loan for the thousand?”

“I’m buying Roehampton property—what’s your recommendation?”

“Under normal circumstances I would advise that you leave your capital intact and borrow the money. However, interest rates have shot sky-high and are climbing every day, so I do not recommend borrowing money at the moment.”

“Then I shall heed your advice. Did the cost of the war with Holland cause the rates to rise?”

“Cromwell’s treaty came too late. The navy failed to capture enough enemy ships to cover its costs. Spanish privateers ruined British trade.” He lowered his voice confidentially. “The goldsmiths have done an accounting and we estimate the government is over two million pounds in debt to us and we have decided not to extend them any more credit. Once we inform the government, all will be thrown into chaos.”

Montgomery took his money and returned to his office. He’d garnered enough information from the goldsmith to write yet another report to Monck about the government’s state of affairs.

Montgomery sealed the letter and locked it in his desk drawer. Then he penned an almost identical letter to Charles Stuart, adding two paragraphs.