Page 88 of The Pirate and the Pagan
She gave him the money but not without a warning. “If you intend to follow in your father’s footsteps, don’t be stupid enough to get caught. I don’t want you coming back feetfirst with a lead ball in your gut.”
“How elegantly you put it, Cat.”
“If you want elegance, you’ve got the wrong woman. At least try to act civilized while we’re under Auntie Lil’s roof. Perhaps I should get us a place of our own.”
“Then I can act uncivilized?” he questioned innocently.
“Since you’re a bloody man, I have no doubt of it,” she retorted.
“Ah, you’ve obviously had an encounter with Lord Helford recently. Only he can manage to put you in such a bitch of a mood.”
“I’m sorry, Spider, you’re right, of course. Oh, God, I was just sick when that swine Oswald sent you to Newgate. Rory brought me to London on the Phantom in the dead of night. I saw the King about getting you released and he told me Ruark had already arranged it. I was so very grateful to him and we almost got to the point where we were acting civilized toward each other again. Until he found out about the baby. We ended up threatening each other, as usual.”
“You’re having a baby, Cat?” asked Spencer with concern.
“I wish to God I wasn’t!” she whispered.
He was shocked. “You don’t want your baby, Cat?”
“Oh, Spider, of course I want my baby, it’s just that—well, I don’t know exactly … which Helford is the father.”
She stole a glance at his face and saw that he was more than shocked, he was appalled at her promiscuity.
“Oh, what does a fifteen-year-old know about these things anyway?” she said crossly.
He stiffened. “I know what’s more or less right is more or less right. What the hell will you do if the child’s Black Jack’s?”
“There’ll be no trouble if it’s Rory’s,” she said defiantly.
“Oh, really? He has to sail into London in the dead of night. When do you suppose you’ll see him again?”
She picked up his plumed hat and handed it to him. “I think we’re both adult enough not to interfere in each other’s lives, don’t you?” she asked pointedly.
Lil would not hear of Summer getting a place of her own. “Darling, what could possibly be more convenient for you? This house is in the most fashionable part of town and it’s within spitting distance of Whitehall. Whenever you’re at Court late at night, you can stay there in Helford’s rooms.”
“But Lil, are you sure you won’t mind having Spencer live here? He’s used to coming and going at any hour he chooses and he’s likely to have disreputable friends,” warned Summer.
“Darling, I’m particularly partial to attractive men, especially young ones.”
“And what about when the baby comes?” Summer asked bluntly.
Lil Richwood clapped her hands. “At last we are making progress. At least you admit there’s going to be a baby. We shall pick you a good midwife, and when the time comes, you’ll have your lying-in there at her house, and when the child is old enough to go abroad, it shall come to live with us. We’ll be a family, with a nursemaid and everything.”
Summer hugged her warmly. She was the most generous woman Summer had ever encountered. Some way she intended to get Roseland back. She wasn’t quite sure yet how she would accomplish such a feat, but she vowed that by fair means or foul, she would get it back. After all it was Spencer’s birthright, and though the young wretch seemed years away from marriage, when he did take a wife, Roseland should belong to Lord St. Catherine and his heirs.
Since Lil had been so accommodating and Summer knew she was dying to go to a court reception, she invited her aunt to accompany her there tonight. A reception and ball were planned for each night that Charles’s mother and sister were in England.
Lil consulted with both Summer and Dora, the mistress of her extensive wardrobe. Finally a royal blue taffeta with yards of silver ribbon was chosen. “A woman nearing fifty shouldn’t wear ribbons, but I don’t give a damn,” declared Lil. “You don’t think I’ll look like mutton dressed as lamb, even though I am exactly that, do you, darling?”
At the ball Charles introduced Summer to his little queen Catherine. Her heart went out to the sallow-faced young woman who skillfully plied her fan so that when she smiled, it covered her prominent little teeth.
Catherine said, “We have much in common, Summair … your husband and mine are far too attractive to other ladies, no? Is your husband faithful to you?”
Summer was slightly taken aback at the Queen’s frank question, but obviously fidelity occupied most of her thoughts and brought her much misery. She chose her words carefully. “Yes, Lord Helford is a tall, dark cavalier like His Majesty but I have never asked myself if he is faithful. Probably he is not, but I am wise enough to know that brief encounters or even longer liaisons are no threat to a wife if her husband treats her well.”
The Queen put her head on one side and said, “There is someone I want very much for you to meet with. She is called Frances Stewart. My husband thinks he is in love with her. After you meet her I want you to tell me honestly if you think she is his latest mistress.”
Summer was amazed to see how young Frances Stewart was. She was a tall, painfully slim girl with pale blond coloring. Catherine invited Summer and Frances to accompany her to a play the next day and left them to become acquainted. Summer found her puzzling. On the surface she seemed nothing more than a simple girl; for one who had spent years at the dissolute French court she seemed naive in the extreme.
