uproariously, drawing eyes sharply toward them. "Not to rectify a disaster, Seavers, good God. The lass arrived without servants, clothing, or any knowledge. You were warned that while she’s due some money, her youth was not spent in riches and education. She was needing the preparation."
"Am I to thank you then, Sire, for helping her to acclimate herself to Whitehall?"
"I think not, Seavers. I asked Lady Castlemaine to send one of her own servants to assess the lady’s needs, and Barbara took it upon herself to look in on Lady Charlotte." Charles cleared his throat. "Your young woman is now ready with a staff, wardrobe, coach, and other essentials."
"I appreciate that very much indeed, Sire. I did not know how poor her state was."
"It was no problem at all, Seavers. Lady Charlotte could well afford it."
Charles watched dubiously as Seavers’s smile vanished. As Seavers mentally figured the approximate cost of Alicia’s refurbishing, the damage to his purse sent pain shooting like a knife to his stomach. His pupils shrank as he wondered if it would match the cost of outfitting an entire ship. Would there be much left for his business ventures?
"I didn’t want to leave you with so much to do for the lady that you couldn’t see about your own affairs," Charles said, finding it hard to conceal his amusement with Geoffrey’s agony. Charles did not play at dressing and teaching ladies, but in this instance, he imagined that without his intervention Charlotte would be left no better dressed than she was when he first met her, and would be as sleeping prey to the court. They, he knew well, would bludgeon her with careless criticism. He gave Castlemaine the chore of outfitting her as a lady, and Barbara did as he expected she would; Charlotte was now Barbara’s pet and project.
"Don’t pout so," Charles told Geoffrey. Geoffrey straightened himself abruptly, piqued at being treated like a child. "Thank me for seeing that it was Barbara taking care of things," he whispered. "I could have asked the queen."
Geoffrey nodded in agreement. He found a great many qualities in Catherine to admire and he pitied her in a great many ways, but it was true that when it came to stylishness she was a failure. Yet what else could be expected of a woman whose husband’s mistresses were flaunted before her continuously?
Geoffrey glanced over his shoulder and found Barbara still fluttering her fan over her voluptuous bosom and chatting amiably with Preston. Catherine had the political interests and title Charles needed to marry; Barbara Palmer had the passion and sexuality that kept that smile playing about the king’s lips. Seavers pitied Catherine, but he didn’t deny that Charles’s need for Barbara was real.
And yet he had heard that Barbara was losing her appeal for Charles. Frances Stewart, a rather new beauty to arrive at court, had the king in chase while she flirted outrageously and hung desperately to her virginity.
Such was the way of the court: to fill the night or the month or perhaps a few years with one person, but to answer nature’s call without overburdening oneself with commitments. Charles had set the standard himself. Who would argue with a king?
"Thank you, Sire," he mumbled, though gratefulness was not something he was feeling. "When will the lady arrive?"
"I’ve sent for her, now you’re here," he replied, moving away from Seavers and toward Barbara to make the acquaintance of Preston, whom he would realize he knew, once they were face to face.
Seavers stood alone, wanting conversation less than anything. Charles was playing the game to the hilt, holding back the woman to the last moment, setting the stage so that everyone within a mile could watch his face as she entered and quietly but clearly gave the information that a good deal of her money had been spent on dressing her for her new position.
I’ll be damned, Seavers thought, if he isn’t playing me like a puppet. Have fun, Sire, while you
"Am I to thank you then, Sire, for helping her to acclimate herself to Whitehall?"
"I think not, Seavers. I asked Lady Castlemaine to send one of her own servants to assess the lady’s needs, and Barbara took it upon herself to look in on Lady Charlotte." Charles cleared his throat. "Your young woman is now ready with a staff, wardrobe, coach, and other essentials."
"I appreciate that very much indeed, Sire. I did not know how poor her state was."
"It was no problem at all, Seavers. Lady Charlotte could well afford it."
Charles watched dubiously as Seavers’s smile vanished. As Seavers mentally figured the approximate cost of Alicia’s refurbishing, the damage to his purse sent pain shooting like a knife to his stomach. His pupils shrank as he wondered if it would match the cost of outfitting an entire ship. Would there be much left for his business ventures?
"I didn’t want to leave you with so much to do for the lady that you couldn’t see about your own affairs," Charles said, finding it hard to conceal his amusement with Geoffrey’s agony. Charles did not play at dressing and teaching ladies, but in this instance, he imagined that without his intervention Charlotte would be left no better dressed than she was when he first met her, and would be as sleeping prey to the court. They, he knew well, would bludgeon her with careless criticism. He gave Castlemaine the chore of outfitting her as a lady, and Barbara did as he expected she would; Charlotte was now Barbara’s pet and project.
"Don’t pout so," Charles told Geoffrey. Geoffrey straightened himself abruptly, piqued at being treated like a child. "Thank me for seeing that it was Barbara taking care of things," he whispered. "I could have asked the queen."
Geoffrey nodded in agreement. He found a great many qualities in Catherine to admire and he pitied her in a great many ways, but it was true that when it came to stylishness she was a failure. Yet what else could be expected of a woman whose husband’s mistresses were flaunted before her continuously?
Geoffrey glanced over his shoulder and found Barbara still fluttering her fan over her voluptuous bosom and chatting amiably with Preston. Catherine had the political interests and title Charles needed to marry; Barbara Palmer had the passion and sexuality that kept that smile playing about the king’s lips. Seavers pitied Catherine, but he didn’t deny that Charles’s need for Barbara was real.
And yet he had heard that Barbara was losing her appeal for Charles. Frances Stewart, a rather new beauty to arrive at court, had the king in chase while she flirted outrageously and hung desperately to her virginity.
Such was the way of the court: to fill the night or the month or perhaps a few years with one person, but to answer nature’s call without overburdening oneself with commitments. Charles had set the standard himself. Who would argue with a king?
"Thank you, Sire," he mumbled, though gratefulness was not something he was feeling. "When will the lady arrive?"
"I’ve sent for her, now you’re here," he replied, moving away from Seavers and toward Barbara to make the acquaintance of Preston, whom he would realize he knew, once they were face to face.
Seavers stood alone, wanting conversation less than anything. Charles was playing the game to the hilt, holding back the woman to the last moment, setting the stage so that everyone within a mile could watch his face as she entered and quietly but clearly gave the information that a good deal of her money had been spent on dressing her for her new position.
I’ll be damned, Seavers thought, if he isn’t playing me like a puppet. Have fun, Sire, while you
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