Read Online Devil Water by Anya Seton - Free Book Online Page B

a friend so close and influential that the Doctor had for once accepted an inconvenient summons. The old physician was famous for his brusque treatment of patients, and for the offense he had once given Queen Anne, though his reputation was not thereby affected, and he commanded immense fees.
    Nor was James present in the drawing room. He was closeted in the library with the Northumbrian lawyer Roger Fenwick and with Thomas Errington who had dropped by to pay his respects. The Earl was eager to understand all he could about his Northern estates before he went to Dilston.
    Charles was unused to sitting in warm scented rooms, he longed to be out walking in the snow, sampling the giddy life of the great city, but it would be rude to leave Betty and, besides, Henrietta, Duchess of Bolton, would soon be arriving. Charles was fascinated by that practiced and seductive lady. That the Duchess was over thirty, and that Dr. Radcliffe was infatuated with her too, did not decrease Charles’s interest. She aroused in him a voluptuous excitement, and he had dreamed of lying in her arms.
    “Charlie!” said Betty giggling, and pinching his knee. “Say something, you great booby. I dislike being ignored.”
    Charles jumped and said gaily, “Oh, I was trying to picture you married, my pet, and I can’t -- no more than me. Has your lady mother found some likely takers?”
    “Not yet. I’ve a fair dowry, but I haven’t the looks my mother and grandmother had. ‘Tis a pity,” she added flatly. Lady Lichfield, still a handsome woman, had been Lady Charlotte Fitzroy, King Charles’s favorite daughter, and a great beauty, while her mother had been the Duchess of Cleveland, best known to the world as the “incomparable Barbara Castlemaine.”
    “But I think you comely,” said Charles awkwardly. He had not yet learned the easy bandying of compliments, nor did Betty invite them. Still she was comely -- despite red hair, big mouth, and freckles. Charles liked her, he was comfortable with her, and he found her smooth plumpness appealing enough, though he had no wish to fondle her as did various elderly noblemen, who were always stroking Betty’s round arms or chucking her under the chin as if she were a dairymaid. “And I hope,” he said grinning, “her ladyship finds you a rich titled husband who’ll dote on you and let you romp at every masquerade!”
    Betty laughed, showing all her strong white teeth. “She had her eye on Derwentwater, and I wouldn’t mind much though he’s shorter than me.”
    “James?” cried Charles, startled.  “Has he offered for you?”
    “Oh no. I said Mama had her eye on him, but she’s giving up hope. She didn’t realize how devout a Papist he is. He’s such a grand match that my father’d overlook that, but my Lord Derwentwater wouldn’t.”
    “No,” said Charles. He could not imagine James marrying out of the Church, nor imagine him marrying at all, for that matter. James was agreeable to everyone, he made graceful speeches to the pretty ladies who fluttered around him, yet there was something untouchable and solitary about him. Still, marry he would, of course. The name, the title, the estates must all be carried on, and already Charles knew that his brother would never let selfish inclination stand in the way of family duty.
    The drawing room door opened, the supercilious footman stalked in and announced, “Her Grace the Duchess of Bolton” to the ceiling, then stalked out again.
    “Oh gemini!” cried Betty with a flounce. “Here’s her high and mightiness and you’ll have no eyes for me -- what you can see in that painted old doxy --”
    “She isn’t!” said Charles indignantly. “Sh-h.” He stood up, preparing to bow. Betty stood up and sank into a curtsey. At the gaming table Francis quietly pulled towards him the ten guineas he had just won from the others, then stood up, his narrow face expressionless. Little Lord Petre rose eagerly, craning to see the Beauty. Lord