Restoration Series - A Scoundrel's Kiss Part 17

"I believe so, yes," Lady Lippet replied.

"Ah! Then I have much to discuss with him, too," the earl declared, marching off toward the pleasant-looking man, who was, as yet, unaware of the fate that was about to befall him.

Paying little heed to the earl or Lady Lippet, Arabella decided the king must have done something rather special with one hit, for Neville started to laugh deprecatingly and called out that His Majesty was getting much too good for him.

Neville's laugh was really most attractive, free and natural, very much reminding her of his youthful self.

This morning, his manner also seemed unrestrained and easy, utterly natural in a way it had not been in the Banqueting House. She could watch him for a long time when he was like this.Suddenly, Lady Lippet grabbed hold of her arm tightly. "Oh, I was wrong. Here are two very eligible n.o.blemen."

Arabella felt her heart sink as she followed the lady's gaze, but fortunately, one of the two was not Croesus Belmaris.

Sir Richard Blythe, looking more sardonic than ever, stood watching the game, and beside him was Lord Cheddersby, rather oddly dressed. Although he was still bewigged and his broad-brimmed hat beplumed, his dark purple jacket and breeches actually seemed subdued.

"We must speak with the charming Lord Cheddersby! He would do very well for you, Arabella. He's from a fine old family. Their estate is somewhere in Suss.e.x, I believe. Or Ess.e.x. Wess.e.x, perhaps." Lady Lippet adjusted her necklace with a coy gesture better suited to one half her age. "Who is that dashingly handsome fellow with him?"

"Do you not recall him from the theater? That is Sir Richard Blythe."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Lady Lippet lowered her voice. "He is not married, either, but the earl would never approve." She glanced around, then whispered conspiratorially in Arabella's ear, "They say he keeps at least three mistresses at once, all actresses. And one of his former lovers tried to kill herself when their liaison was at an end, or so she claimed. I saw her shortly after, and if she really tried to do it, I am the Empress of Austria. No scar at all!"

A cry went up from the crowd as the king sent the ball sailing back over the rope with a broad stroke.

Neville returned it again, this time to the far left of the king.

Charles deftly intercepted it from close to the rope and struck it hard, sending it to the right corner of Neville's part of the floor. With a speed she would have thought impossible, and twisting like a snake, Neville hit the ball and sent it back over the rope.

The king must miss-but no! He ran back and caught the ball with his paddle before it touched the ground. It didn't fly over the rope, but struck the outer wall of the court and ricocheted.

Arabella swiftly looked at Neville-who was not watching the ball at all. He was staring at her.

The ball was going to strike his face if he didn't move.

"Look out!" she cried.

Neville suddenly came to life and moved out of the way of the king's missile, while at the same time, all the spectators fell silent. Even the spaniels stopped yapping.

Arabella blushed with mortification.

"Arabella!" Lady Lippet chided softly and quite unnecessarily.

"I was... I was carried away by the excitement of the game," she explained feebly, keeping her eyes lowered, quite aware that everyone was staring at her, including the king.

"Odd's fish, we believe a penalty might be called for!" the king declared. "What shall it be? A kiss, perhaps?"

Arabella blushed even more.

"Perhaps not," the king said. "Perhaps we shall forfeit a penalty and decree this a tie game, Farrington.""That would be most generous of you, Majesty, for I did miss the ball."

Although she kept her gaze firmly on the low dividing wall, it was obvious that the players were coming closer.

"But you were beating us before," the king remarked. "Indeed, if we did not think you an honest fellow, we would be tempted to think you were allowing us to win."

"I a.s.sure you, Majesty, I always play to win."

Charles laughed, a great, booming, roar of delight. "We appreciate a man who admits it," he declared.

Then he lowered his voice and said in a teasing and significant tone, "Although there are some games in which we shall insist upon the royal prerogative."

As Arabella curtsied, she glanced up at Neville and thought his cheerful expression seemed rather strained.

Because he didn't like to lose a tennis game? Or was the significance in the king's tone related to some other kind of sport?

"Ah, Lady Arabella, we are so pleased to see you this morning," King Charles declared.

The genuine pleasure in his voice gave a sort of horrible credence to the duke's remarks last night-and yet he had sounded similarly pleased when he spoke to Neville.

Perhaps everyone was jumping to a conclusion based only upon the king's naturally easy manner.

She would think that, for to believe otherwise was surely vain and foolish, as well as extremely disturbing.

Again she glanced at Neville; she realized he was watching her and quickly looked away.

Before she could speak, Lady Lippet forcefully pushed her aside. "Good day, Your Majesty! Such fine exercise, I'm sure, although you hardly need it."

"You flatter us, Lady Lippet," he graciously replied. "But where is the earl? We understand he had matters of great import he wished to discuss with us."

Here was welcome proof that the king was merely being his gracious self when he spoke to her.

"He is speaking to Mr. Pepys, Your Majesty," Arabella replied with a nod in their direction.

"Ah, yes," he replied, glancing at the two men.

The earl was red in the face, while Mr. Pepys looked rather pale.

"We hope you will again grace us with your presence at Whitehall this evening, ladies."

"Oh, Your Majesty! Nothing would be more delightful, I a.s.sure you!" Lady Lippet gasped as she curtsied even lower-so low, in fact, that Arabella feared she might never be able to get up.

"Excellent!" the king replied. "Do you play cribbage, Lady Arabella?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"It is a simple enough game. We shall instruct you ourselves.""Thank you, Your Majesty."

"You have never wagered before?"

"No, Your Majesty."

The king glanced at Neville. "Stay clear of this fellow, then, for he is a very clever player, who tells us that he always plays to win."

"I shall proceed with care, Your Majesty."

"Excellent! Now if you ladies will excuse your sovereign, we should see what wisdom the earl wishes to impart to us. Will you join us, Farrington?"

"I think not, Your Majesty. My presence would not be conducive to civility on my father's part."

The king's brow furrowed slightly, but that was the only reaction he gave before snapping his fingers at the keeper of his dogs, who led the boisterous animals to their master.

"Until this evening, Lady Lippet, Lady Arabella," the king said.

And then, shockingly, he winked, and not at the still-bent Lady Lippet, either.

Arabella could scarce believe it. The King of England winked at her before leaving them.

Oh, surely, surely, this was only more evidence of his easygoing manner or a merry sort of compliment.

The king could not mean anything significant by that simple action.

She became aware that Lady Lippet's arm was flailing, indicative of distress. "Arabella, your a.s.sistance, if you please!"

Arabella quickly hurried to help. Her ladyship slowly became upright.

"My dear, another invitation from the king!" she cried happily when she was standing, her delighted smile causing the powder on her face to crack.

Arabella suddenly had the impression that Lady Lippet was like a piece of porcelain, liable to shatter at any moment, this time from sheer happiness.

"The king's notice will certainly not go unremarked! I dare say several young men will be wanting to meet you now!"

"I am quite certain of that, too," Neville seconded. "You will be getting famous, although not, perhaps, in a way you would like."

So he believed that the king's attention was of a lascivious nature.

Right now, she wished she could go home to Grantham!

Except that Neville would not be there.

Lady Lippet frowned, more cracks appearing. "I don't understand you at all, Neville. Of course she will be heard of and talked about. That is what we want, if she is to find a proper husband." Suddenly, an expression of alarm came to Lady Lippet's face. "Oh, dear me! Is Lord Cheddersby leaving?"

She abruptly pushed past Arabella and hurried to intercept Lord Cheddersby at the entrance to the courtbefore he could escape.

"I suppose Lady Lippet would consider dear old Foz a suitable marriage candidate."

With a sinking feeling, Arabella mentally agreed.

"What do you think of him?"

"I haven't met a nicer man in all of London," she answered honestly.

Neville told himself that he did not particularly want to be considered nice. "Nice" was for old women or elderly gentlemen or little girls. "Nice" was no word to describe a virile, pa.s.sionate man.

"He is not as rich as Croesus Belmaris, surely another of the many candidates for your hand," he remarked. "You must be very flattered. Is it not every maiden's dream to be surrounded by a bevy of admiring swains-and to count the king among them?"

"You believe the king finds me fascinating?"

Surely she could not be so naive, Neville thought as he struggled not to betray any hint of his jealousy. "I a.s.sure you, he would not trouble himself to invite you anywhere if he did not find you very appealing."

She frowned, then gave Neville a look that set his heart beating as it had when he was dashing about the tennis court. "It is not my dream to be chased after and captured like some sort of beast. I dream of finding a man I can love for my husband."

"I am sure my father and Lady Lippet do not subscribe to that particular dream. Unfortunately, the king himself is already married."

She nodded slowly, and he was sure she was being sincere when she seemed displeased by the mention of the king's obvious interest.

"What did you a.s.sume the king meant by his invitations?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I thought he was just being gracious."

He remembered that for all her intelligence and seeming adaptation to London, she was still a Puritan-raised young woman from a sleepy little country village.

A lamb among the wolves.

And he was supposed to be one of the wolves.

"Arabella! Here is Lord Cheddersby!" Lady Lippet called out as she bore down upon them, a red-faced Foz in tow.

Richard, with a d.a.m.nably smug smile, sauntered along behind them, the look in his eyes telling Neville as clearly as words that he was antic.i.p.ating being vastly amused, and at somebody else's expense.

"Well played, Neville," Richard remarked, "although I thought you were planning to sacrifice your head to let the king win. Half the female population of London would have gone into mourning at your martyrdom."

"I was just telling Sir Richard Blythe that I have been to every one of his plays," Lady Lippet gushed.

"Where do you get such clever ideas for your plots?"Richard looked around secretively. "When I was in exile with the king in Europe, a peddler sold me an ancient ma.n.u.script full of stories, plays and poems. I confess I simply copy them in my own writing."

Lady Lippet gasped, and Foz gazed, wide-eyed.

"He jests with us, Lady Lippet," Arabella said, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she looked at Richard.

At Richard.

"Of course he writes them himself," she continued. "I'm sure anyone who saw his latest play could have little doubt that it would take a man of his particular talent and temperament to pen such a work."

Richard frowned. "What would you say are my particular talent and temperament, Lady Arabella?"

She shook her head. "If you do not know, I shall not attempt to enlighten you."

"Oh, please do," Neville insisted.

"Yes, do!" Foz cried.

Richard darted a look at both of them. "Really, gentlemen," he protested half-heartedly.