tell the performance from the genuine emotion.”
“But with such a creature—a Newgate brat who has grown from the slums—you will not be able to trust in her loyalty. It will be given to the highest bidder. For that reason, you may be able to encourage her into Buckingham’s bed—there are few higher—but how can you be sure she will remain sufficiently attached to you to enable you to milk her of any information? It will have to be done very casuallyif she is not to suspect. It seems to me, my friend, that that predicates a certain intimacy.” His eyebrows lifted. “Should she begin to suspect the truth, she may well see financial advantage in playing turncoat. Then we will both lose our heads.”
Nicholas was silent for a minute. He did not resent this hard catechism. Richard spoke only the truth, and the stakes would be of the highest. Finally he said, “If I may bind her to me …”
“She will remain loyal,” De Winter finished on a low whistle. “Will you bind her with the chains of gratitude or of love, my friend?”
Nicholas shrugged. “Of the first, certainly. Of the second …” He smiled. “We will wait and see. I find I have a powerful desire for her, Richard, one I would consummate; but I must kindle her own first. She is still an innocent in matters of passion, in spite of her background.” He paused thoughtfully, then said, “Maybe because of it. Passion and desire are not necessarily synonymous with lust, and she is certainly familiar with the latter in its ugliest manifestations. But we will leave that in abeyance. While she remains beneath my roof, she remains virgin. She must be taught certain things, and in the teaching I will forge some chains.”
Richard De Winter nodded, and kept silent. He found himself with a great desire to make the acquaintance of Mistress Polly Wyat.
Chapter 4
L ady Margaret, who had been waiting with barely suppressed impatience for her brother-in-law’s return, found herself balked of the opportunity to vent her anger by the presence of his companion. She was obliged to smile and curtsy as she greeted Lord De Winter, pressed a glass of sack upon him, and sent word to the kitchen to lay another place at the dinner table.
“I understand from John Coachman, brother, that you gave Susan and Polly leave to visit the Exchange,” she said, finally unable to contain herself, although she was careful to couch the statement in soft tones, accompanied by a smile. It was a smile that did not reach her eyes, but then, Lady Margaret’s smiles rarely did. “They have not yet returned, and the kitchen is hard-pressed to manage without them.” She plied her needle on her tambour frame with an air of great consideration, continuing casually, “I cannot help feeling, brother, that the granting of holidays should be in the purview of the mistress of the house. A man cannot expect to know when a servant can ill be spared.”
“Possibly not,” agreed Nick equably. “Pray accept my apologies if my indulgence has caused you trouble. However, the kitchen cannot be missing Polly’s services too greatly, since they have not yet had the benefit of them. But theyshould both be at work shortly. I gave order that they return by dinnertime.” He smiled blandly. “May I fill your glass, Richard?”
“My thanks.” De Winter schooled his expression with admirable effort and offered the Lady Margaret a comment on the weather. Topics of conversation considered suitable by the Puritan were hard to come by since court gossip, politics, and fashion were all tarred with the devil’s brush. Religion, sacred music, and the weather were acceptable, but tended to be unabsorbing subjects.
A slight tap on the door relieved the awkward silence. Lady Margaret bade the knocker enter, and Polly, demure in apron and cap, appeared. “Dinner is served, my lady.”
Richard De Winter struggled to capture his breath. Never had he beheld such a beauty. Aware of his gaze, Polly returned the
“But with such a creature—a Newgate brat who has grown from the slums—you will not be able to trust in her loyalty. It will be given to the highest bidder. For that reason, you may be able to encourage her into Buckingham’s bed—there are few higher—but how can you be sure she will remain sufficiently attached to you to enable you to milk her of any information? It will have to be done very casuallyif she is not to suspect. It seems to me, my friend, that that predicates a certain intimacy.” His eyebrows lifted. “Should she begin to suspect the truth, she may well see financial advantage in playing turncoat. Then we will both lose our heads.”
Nicholas was silent for a minute. He did not resent this hard catechism. Richard spoke only the truth, and the stakes would be of the highest. Finally he said, “If I may bind her to me …”
“She will remain loyal,” De Winter finished on a low whistle. “Will you bind her with the chains of gratitude or of love, my friend?”
Nicholas shrugged. “Of the first, certainly. Of the second …” He smiled. “We will wait and see. I find I have a powerful desire for her, Richard, one I would consummate; but I must kindle her own first. She is still an innocent in matters of passion, in spite of her background.” He paused thoughtfully, then said, “Maybe because of it. Passion and desire are not necessarily synonymous with lust, and she is certainly familiar with the latter in its ugliest manifestations. But we will leave that in abeyance. While she remains beneath my roof, she remains virgin. She must be taught certain things, and in the teaching I will forge some chains.”
Richard De Winter nodded, and kept silent. He found himself with a great desire to make the acquaintance of Mistress Polly Wyat.
Chapter 4
L ady Margaret, who had been waiting with barely suppressed impatience for her brother-in-law’s return, found herself balked of the opportunity to vent her anger by the presence of his companion. She was obliged to smile and curtsy as she greeted Lord De Winter, pressed a glass of sack upon him, and sent word to the kitchen to lay another place at the dinner table.
“I understand from John Coachman, brother, that you gave Susan and Polly leave to visit the Exchange,” she said, finally unable to contain herself, although she was careful to couch the statement in soft tones, accompanied by a smile. It was a smile that did not reach her eyes, but then, Lady Margaret’s smiles rarely did. “They have not yet returned, and the kitchen is hard-pressed to manage without them.” She plied her needle on her tambour frame with an air of great consideration, continuing casually, “I cannot help feeling, brother, that the granting of holidays should be in the purview of the mistress of the house. A man cannot expect to know when a servant can ill be spared.”
“Possibly not,” agreed Nick equably. “Pray accept my apologies if my indulgence has caused you trouble. However, the kitchen cannot be missing Polly’s services too greatly, since they have not yet had the benefit of them. But theyshould both be at work shortly. I gave order that they return by dinnertime.” He smiled blandly. “May I fill your glass, Richard?”
“My thanks.” De Winter schooled his expression with admirable effort and offered the Lady Margaret a comment on the weather. Topics of conversation considered suitable by the Puritan were hard to come by since court gossip, politics, and fashion were all tarred with the devil’s brush. Religion, sacred music, and the weather were acceptable, but tended to be unabsorbing subjects.
A slight tap on the door relieved the awkward silence. Lady Margaret bade the knocker enter, and Polly, demure in apron and cap, appeared. “Dinner is served, my lady.”
Richard De Winter struggled to capture his breath. Never had he beheld such a beauty. Aware of his gaze, Polly returned the
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