can. Before very long I’ll be running this—"
His thoughts stopped abruptly as he heard the doorman’s announcement, and all heads turned. "Lady Charlotte Bellamy."
From where he stood, it did not seem to be the same woman. Perhaps Charles had found an impostor of his own. But a closer look told him that Alicia had been groomed, exquisitely, to compete with the most beautiful women at court.
Her gown was close-fitting velvet, lavender and deep, rich purple, snug through the bodice and waist and flowing in graceful pleats to the floor. Her slim figure and long slender arms gave her the look of a dancer. Her wrists glittered with bracelets and her neck shone with precious stones. Over one arm, she carried a black fox fur that a servant quickly took from her. Her gown was cut in a deep V, and her breasts, round and plentiful, rose and fell gracefully with every breath.
It was her face; that much he could recognize, though he feared he had gone partially mad. It was the difference of seeing her hair so perfectly coiffed, with small glittering stones tucked here and there among the curls. And her manner was so different in this setting. She stood taller, almost commandingly, her every movement poised and confident. As the king approached her, she gave him a quick and natural smile, her even white teeth gleaming and her eyes coming alive with a special excited light.
Geoffrey felt an urge grow within him the moment he had taken in her entire appearance. She was more than lovely: she was magnificent. He tried to recall the tavern wench he’d met: a slender and unkempt brown-haired girl. He had thought her fair, but the potential had never occurred to him.
But it was not the clothing alone, he assured himself. There was something in her demeanor that made her very different from the wench in the inn. He had seen her clamber into the coach with Rodney, and now he was seeing her glide across the room on the king’s arm, her smile soft and sweet as she acknowledged the sighs from the courtiers as she passed them, and seemed to take as much pleasure in the lack of comment from the ladies. Indeed, the only woman in the room to be the least bit appreciative was Barbara Palmer, and that was because of her contribution to this maid’s attractiveness.
Charles stood before him, his ward on his arm. "From your expression, Seavers, I’d say you’re pleased."
Geoffrey shook himself and reached to take her hand, placing a courtly kiss on it. "Your servant, madam," he cooed.
"There are a great many eager for your acquaintance, lady," Charles told her. "I think your escort can manage that, if you’ll excuse me."
"With pleasure, Your Majesty," she said, her voice lilting.
"I’ll be announcing the betrothal after dinner and I hope you’ll be telling me the wedding date before long."
"I’m certain we can settle on a date soon," Seavers attempted.
"I think it shan’t take long for me to get to know the groom, Your Majesty," Alicia said.
"Didn’t I promise you all the time you need?" Charles asked her. She nodded as though they had indeed had a long conversation on the matter.
As Seavers attempted to hide his frown, Charles left them. Though they were hardly alone, they were isolated enough to exchange a few words, if quiet.
"Quite an improvement, lady," he whispered.
"I might say the same, milord," she returned.
The shock nearly set him on his ear and he quickly tried to remember what he was garbed in when last they spoke together. He had not considered that his appearance was ever less than debonair.
"We shouldn’t need to keep the king in suspense, should we, madam? I think the wedding can be soon."
"Let’s not worry with that tonight, milord, please. I’m interested only in getting to know you better."
"Madam," he pressed, prepared to argue. But as he would have begun, he noticed that the gallants would not allow him privacy. And he understood their motivation, for he had to acknowledge he had indeed been
His thoughts stopped abruptly as he heard the doorman’s announcement, and all heads turned. "Lady Charlotte Bellamy."
From where he stood, it did not seem to be the same woman. Perhaps Charles had found an impostor of his own. But a closer look told him that Alicia had been groomed, exquisitely, to compete with the most beautiful women at court.
Her gown was close-fitting velvet, lavender and deep, rich purple, snug through the bodice and waist and flowing in graceful pleats to the floor. Her slim figure and long slender arms gave her the look of a dancer. Her wrists glittered with bracelets and her neck shone with precious stones. Over one arm, she carried a black fox fur that a servant quickly took from her. Her gown was cut in a deep V, and her breasts, round and plentiful, rose and fell gracefully with every breath.
It was her face; that much he could recognize, though he feared he had gone partially mad. It was the difference of seeing her hair so perfectly coiffed, with small glittering stones tucked here and there among the curls. And her manner was so different in this setting. She stood taller, almost commandingly, her every movement poised and confident. As the king approached her, she gave him a quick and natural smile, her even white teeth gleaming and her eyes coming alive with a special excited light.
Geoffrey felt an urge grow within him the moment he had taken in her entire appearance. She was more than lovely: she was magnificent. He tried to recall the tavern wench he’d met: a slender and unkempt brown-haired girl. He had thought her fair, but the potential had never occurred to him.
But it was not the clothing alone, he assured himself. There was something in her demeanor that made her very different from the wench in the inn. He had seen her clamber into the coach with Rodney, and now he was seeing her glide across the room on the king’s arm, her smile soft and sweet as she acknowledged the sighs from the courtiers as she passed them, and seemed to take as much pleasure in the lack of comment from the ladies. Indeed, the only woman in the room to be the least bit appreciative was Barbara Palmer, and that was because of her contribution to this maid’s attractiveness.
Charles stood before him, his ward on his arm. "From your expression, Seavers, I’d say you’re pleased."
Geoffrey shook himself and reached to take her hand, placing a courtly kiss on it. "Your servant, madam," he cooed.
"There are a great many eager for your acquaintance, lady," Charles told her. "I think your escort can manage that, if you’ll excuse me."
"With pleasure, Your Majesty," she said, her voice lilting.
"I’ll be announcing the betrothal after dinner and I hope you’ll be telling me the wedding date before long."
"I’m certain we can settle on a date soon," Seavers attempted.
"I think it shan’t take long for me to get to know the groom, Your Majesty," Alicia said.
"Didn’t I promise you all the time you need?" Charles asked her. She nodded as though they had indeed had a long conversation on the matter.
As Seavers attempted to hide his frown, Charles left them. Though they were hardly alone, they were isolated enough to exchange a few words, if quiet.
"Quite an improvement, lady," he whispered.
"I might say the same, milord," she returned.
The shock nearly set him on his ear and he quickly tried to remember what he was garbed in when last they spoke together. He had not considered that his appearance was ever less than debonair.
"We shouldn’t need to keep the king in suspense, should we, madam? I think the wedding can be soon."
"Let’s not worry with that tonight, milord, please. I’m interested only in getting to know you better."
"Madam," he pressed, prepared to argue. But as he would have begun, he noticed that the gallants would not allow him privacy. And he understood their motivation, for he had to acknowledge he had indeed been
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