with Autumn, but Louis has said the summer she turns twelve he wants her back in France at his court. She, too, is more French than English. She is already spending half of her year at Chermont with her sister. It is hard for Autumn to let them go, but Maddy is fourteen now, and will soon have to choose a husband. There is talk of the young heir from Archambault. If that comes to pass, then the two estates could be joined,” Charlie explained.
The king nodded. He understood such things. This was how the rich remained rich. This was how power was amassed. “Autumn was a delightful mistress, if only for a brief time. What manners she had! What style! She knew her place and when to gracefully withdraw. I always admired her for it.”
“Your Majesty knows she deliberately set out to seduce him?” Charlie said. It was long past, but he had always felt uncomfortable with the situation that his beautiful youngest sister had created.
“Ahh, Cousin,” the king laughed. “I am not certain even today just who it was who seduced whom.”
“She wanted a title and a house,” Charlie said. “I could never get over how blunt she was with me about her ends.”
“And I rewarded her with what she wanted,” the king chuckled.
“What if Gabriel hadn’t asked for her?” Charlie asked his cousin.
“But he did,” the king said with a smile. “I would have kept my word under any circumstances, Charlie. I do have a great weakness where amenable ladies are concerned, as all seem to know.”
“And the ladies of my family do seem to hold a fascination for the royal Stuarts,” Charlie remarked with a grin.
“They do,” the king admitted.
Suddenly outside the privy chamber door a commotion arose. The door flew open to reveal the king’s boy page attempting to bar entry the duchess of Cleveland.
“’Oddsfish, Georgie,” the king drawled, annoyed, “what is this?”
“I heard that you were ill,” Barbara Villiers, Lady Castlemaine, said as she pushed past the page. “You do not look ill to me.”
Charlie arose, and bowed to the duchess of Cleveland. “Barbara,” he said, “I had heard you had withdrawn from court and thought it marvelous that you should finally be showing wisdom at your age.”
“I should not speak of age, my lord duke,” Lady Castlemaine snapped back at him. “You can hardly claim acquaintance with youth any longer.”
“I did not send for you, Barbara,” the king said.
“What?” she screeched at him. “Am I a servant to be sent for then, my lord? There was a day . . .”
“Long past, my dear lady,” Charlie defended his cousin as he had always done when he could. He stood, and offered her his arm. “May I escort you somewhere, madame?”
“You bastard!” she hissed at him.
“Why, madam, everyone knows that of me. It is no secret. You but state the obvious,” Charlie mocked her. He had always disliked this aggressive woman and was not unhappy to see her replaced in his royal cousin’s affections.
And then suddenly the door to the king’s bedchamber opened. In the portal stood the most adorable creature that the duke of Lundy had ever seen. She had a heart-shaped face, full lips, and dimples in her cheeks. Her tousled chestnut curls were short. Her bright eyes, hazel. Her face gamine, and her slender body shapely in all the places a woman should be shapely. “Are we to be a threesome then, darling?” she innocently inquired of the king, her eyes wide. She was wearing an outrageously sheer black silk nightdress lavishly adorned with lace.
The little page stared open-mouthed. And then the duchess of Cleveland began to spew a stream of invectives, which she hurled at the king. Even Charlie was surprised by the colorful and extraordinary abuse. He strode across the king’s privy chamber, and grasping the furious woman by the arm, he dragged her out, through the royal apartments, and into the hall beyond. “Madame, be silent!” he thundered.
“How dare you!” the lady Castlemaine screamed and slapped him with a hard hand.
The duke of Lundy quickly slapped her back, much to her great surprise. Then he said to one of the royal guard, “His Majesty wishes this woman escorted from the palace immediately. She is not to be allowed admittance again this night.” Charlie then turned and walked away.
“You will regret this, my lord!” came the cry after him.
The not-so-royal Stuart whirled about, his amber eyes blazing. “Nay, madame, ’tis you who will regret this scene. Have you no shame? Your time is over. Withdraw gracefully before you find yourself a figure of public scorn. There is nothing more embarrassing than an openly discarded royal mistress. Where is your pride? Or have you lost it all at long last? I somehow cannot believe that, so perhaps it is just that you are stupid as so many have claimed over the years.”
Lady Castlemaine’s visage drained of its color for a brief moment, and then she grew almost purple. Her lips moved, but no sound issued forth. She raised her fist at him, but then it fell to her side. Finally she turned and stormed away, followed by one of the king’s men-at-arms hurrying to do the royal bidding, and put her out of the palace.
Charlie rubbed his face. The bitch had a rough hand, he decided ruefully. But then he grinned. He loved his country life at Queen’s Malvern, but, God’s blood!, it was good to be back at court again!
Chapter 3
The king sprawled on his carved upholstered throne, looking out over the reception hall at the entering guests. Both his breeches and coat were violet velvet. His cream-colored silk stockings were embroidered in gold sprays of flowers, and his garters were large cloth-of-gold rosettes with diamond centers. He had matching rosettes on his shoes. Next to him sat his queen, Catherine of Braganza, a Portuguese lady of sweet disposition, but no great beauty to Charles Stuart’s eye. Still, she was a pleasant companion when he chose her company, her only fault being her inability to give him a legitimate heir. And the fault was obviously hers, for he had sired any number of bastards on ladies highborn and low. Poor Catherine, however, could not seem to conceive. Once or twice there had been a small ray of hope, but it had come to naught. His wife was barren. He might have divorced her and remarried. All Europe knew he had just cause, but Catherine of Braganza suited Charles Stuart with her gentle and docile personality. Another wife might not have been as thoughtful of his amoral habits as Catherine. Besides he had an heir in his brother, James, the duke of York, who already had two legitimate heirs.
The king’s attention was suddenly attracted by a flash of brilliant turquoise blue. He focused his gaze. There was his cousin Charlie just now entering the room with his family. He escorted a lady on each arm: his elegant mother, the dowager duchess of Glenkirk, and his equally graceful wife, Barbara. They were followed by a trio of young girls. It was among these three the king had spotted the bright color. He recognized the girl in the scarlet gown as Charlie’s daughter. The girl in the dusky rose as the Glenkirk lass. Therefore, the young woman in the turquoise velvet and silver lace had to be the gossiped-about Mistress Frances Devers.
“I see the duke of Lundy,” the queen murmured to him. “I recognize all but one of his party. Do you know who the lady in blue is my lord?”
“It is his niece from the Colonies, Mistress Devers,” the king
