Improbable Eden (29 page)

“
Your Grace has never permitted smoking in your presence before,” she said with the faintest hint of reproach. “Why would you allow a fourteen-year-old boarding-school miss to give you asthma? Surely her charms could not have been so overpowering!”

“
Not as much so as her pipe,” William retorted, a glint of humor surfacing in his dark eyes.

“
The truth is,” Keppel chimed in, “Louise Dorothea of Brandenburg is a bony, gauche girl with neither wit nor allure. And,” he added, spooning out a measure of Eden's syrup, “His Majesty thinks it unseemly to consider acquiring a second wife while he still mourns his first.”

“
Well put, Joost.” William smiled wanly at his favorite, then docilely swallowed the medicine. “You're right, Mistress,” he remarked with a wrinkle of his long nose. “It's quite tasty.” He licked his thin lips and fumbled with the quilt. “The truth also is,” he went on, leaning back in the chair, “we not only missed your ministrations on our journey, but …” William stopped, glanced at Keppel, whose expression was impassive, and then looked at Eden. “The truth really is,” he repeated after clearing his throat, “we missed
you
.”

Eden's smile lighted up the gloomy chamber. She could hardly believe the King's admission. Even Keppel seemed favorably disposed. Yet she agonized over mentioning either her father or Max's plight. Perhaps this was not the right moment; maybe she should consolidate her victory first.

The decision was made for her by the bumptious entrance of Wilhem Bentinck. His glance at Keppel was filled with contempt; his reaction to Eden was disbelief. Still, he wasted no time on either of his despised rivals, but came straight to the point. “Prince Maximilian has been hunted down! He is hiding out at St. James's!”

The King wiped his mouth with the edge of his hand. “So he did come back to England.”

Eden covered her distress by picking up one of the Dutch pugs. Lounging behind the King's chair, Keppel shot Bentinck an insolent look. “How, Milord, would you describe ‘hiding out' at a royal palace? Surely His Highness is under the protection of Princess Anne.”

“
My point, exactly!” Bentinck fumed. “Is the Princess permitted to defy His Majesty's wishes? Maximilian is both a traitor and a murderer!” He glanced at William, waiting for approval.

The King emerged from the quilt and tossed it onto the floor. “Prince Maximilian must answer these charges. Let the soldiers search the palace, if necessary.”

Eden exchanged apprehensive glances with Keppel, then put the dog down. “If you will excuse me, Your Majesty, I'm sure my presence is intrusive at a time like—”

“
Your presence is suspect,” interrupted Bentinck. He glared at Eden, then turned to William. “Sire, this strumpet follows in her mother's depraved footsteps!” His stubby fingers jabbed at Eden's plum and gold finery. “She even robes herself like that licentious bawd and has formed an infamous liaison with Prince Maximilian. May I suggest that she be arrested at once?”

The King scowled at his elder statesman. “God's blood, Wilhem, you do Mistress Eden a grave injustice. Apologize, or earn our extreme displeasure.”

But tenacity was inbred in Wilhem Bentinck. “Don't be misled by a pretty face and a captivating manner. She's Marlborough's bastard and Maximilian's whore! They lived together for months, man! The trollop's a Jacobite spy!”

Anxiously, Eden watched William's reaction. His thin face was working painfully, and his eyes were a weary mirror of his soul. “Marlborough's daughter, yes,” he said heavily. “But Maximilian's … er, whore and Jacobite spy are serious allegations.” He beckoned to Eden. “Come here, my dear. How do you answer Milord Bentinck's charges?”

Behind the King, Eden saw Keppel's unusually somber face. She felt Bentinck's hostile stare and tried to take courage from the earnest expression in William's dark gaze. But the fact was that Eden could not lie to her sovereign. She could, however, hedge.

“
I swear to you, Sire, I am no spy. Nor do I understand politics, being barely able to discern a Whig from a Tory.” She gave a little shake of her head. “As for living with Prince Max, that's so, everyone knows of it. But I can also swear that we never engaged in the slightest impropriety all the time I was under his roof.” That much, at least, was true. She could look William of Orange straight in the eye and not flinch.

The King visibly relaxed, while Keppel gave Eden the merest suggestion of a wink. Bentinck, however, was not appeased. “You're too kindhearted, Willi! You'll regret this surge of sentiment!”

William of Orange rose from the chair, trembling with wrath, a bony finger pointed at Bentinck. “You go too far! We're not lads in the Gelderland anymore! Get out! Get out, before I have Joost throw you out! ”

The stunned Bentinck jumped, but Keppel stepped beside his monarch. “My pleasure,” he said with an exaggerated bow and a toss of his golden wig.

“
Impertinent whelp!” Bentinck snarled at Keppel between clenched teeth. His face was a perilous shade of purple as he returned his attention to the King. “Am I discharged from Your Majesty's service?”

William, who was struggling for control, ran a hand through his sparse hair. “No. But you are dismissed from our presence.”

Bentinck started to wheel out of the room, but tripped over one of the pugs. Stifling a vile oath, he turned to the others. “You'll regret this day,” he snarled, then slammed out of the room.

Eden stared at the quivering door and wondered if Bentinck's threat was meant for her or all of them. The one thing she knew for certain was that Max was in terrible danger.

Eden used all the coins in her purse to bribe the coachman to make great haste between Whitehall and St. James's Palace. The distance was shorter than Eden had expected, but she wanted to arrive before Bentinck's orders could be executed. The carriage came to a grinding halt off Birdcage Walk. Glimpsing a group of soldiers through the coach window, Eden calculated her chances of gaining admission.

Eden Berenger Churchill would no doubt be denied entry by Bentinck's men. But no lesser entity than the Archbishop of Canterbury would dare to challenge the arrival of Barbara Castlemaine, the Duchess of Cleveland. Rummaging in one of the smaller boxes she had brought from Clarges Street, Eden took out a fashionable mask she had never worn, hid much of her hair under the ribbons and lappets of her
fontange
cap and found a pair of ruffled silk shoes with four-inch lacquered heels. Taking a deep breath, she plunged her hands inside a sable muff and sailed out of Lady Castlemaine's coach.

“
Make way, make way,” she shouted in her huskiest voice. “The Duchess of Cleveland to see Her Royal Highness. By my arse, bend those backs or I'll have your ears for supper!”

The startled soldiers edged away, some sniggering, others gaping. One, however, was bold enough to challenge the bawdy visitor and held out an unwavering hand. “Stay, Your Grace, we're under orders to admit no one. We have a criminal trapped inside and are awaiting further instructions from Whitehall.”

Eden sniffed with disdain. “Most of the criminals in this realm are already at Whitehall, in my opinion.” She tapped the man's hand with her muff. “Step aside, I've no patience with politics. Whig, Tory, Tory, Whig—Twigs and Whories would do as well; then at least I'd know which side I was on. Move, Lambchops, Her Highness is expecting me.”

The soldier regarded Eden more keenly than she would have preferred, but she had no choice other than to brazen out her performance. “Well?” she cooed, pursing her lips. “Do you find me less dissipated than has been rumored? Would you care to find me later, say, on the cushioned seat of my fine coach?” Her effort at a lewd wink was partially frustrated by the mask, but the heaving velvet bosom turned the tide.

“
Zounds!” exclaimed the soldier, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. As Eden wafted the muff like a fan and waited, the man snapped to attention. “We know you by your … reputation, and Milord Bentinck is your kin by marriage. Pray enter, Your Grace.” As Eden marched past him, he spoke out of the side of his mouth: “How much later, madame?”

“
The later the better,” she retorted, throwing a coquettish glance over her shoulder. “I'm always better when it's later.”

Inside the palace, Eden paused to collect herself. The masquerade had taken its toll. She had not thought further than getting past Bentinck's soldiers and was dismayed by the gaggle of guardsmen, footmen and servants who confronted her as soon as she crossed the threshold.

“
Madame,” intoned a liveried official of considerable dignity and ample girth, “may I have the honor of your acquaintance?”

Having decided to dispense with her disguise, Eden started to remove her mask. “Indeed, I'm—”

She was interrupted by a shriek that seemed to emanate from the chandelier but that in fact came from a pretty, honey-haired blonde who was standing halfway up the spiral staircase. “It's the Castlemaine! Throw the harridan out!”

“
Madame,” Eden began as the palace staff exchanged agitated glances, “I'm not Lady Castlemaine! I'm her daughter!”

If Eden had expected a swift reprieve, she was sorely disappointed. The blonde flew down the stairs, her color high, her eyes flashing. Within closer view, she was not as young as she had seemed, but probably almost forty. She was also furious.

“
Harlot!” she cried, her hands clenched. “How dare you come here! Go back to your wanton mother!”

At a distinct disadvantage, Eden tried to becalm the other woman. “Madame, I have urgent business with Her Highness, the Princess Anne.” Eden racked her brain for a suitable excuse. “I have come from Whitehall, with a message from His Majesty.”

The blonde hesitated, but lost none of her pugnaciousness. “Do you know who I am?” she demanded with a menacing little gesture.

“
No,” replied Eden frankly, “though you seem to know me. I'm perplexed.”

The other woman drew herself up in a sea of petal-pink lace and creamy satin. “I'm Sarah, Countess of Marlborough.” Behind her, the household staff nodded in a chorus of approbation. Sarah held her head high and looked down her upturned nose at Eden. “Even after twenty years, I cannot imagine how my dear Lord Marl consorted with a concubine!”

“
How?” echoed Eden, “or why?”

Sarah's pink cheeks blazed with anger. “Impertinent! How did you get in? Why, you even look like your mother!”

Having absorbed the fact that this strong-minded woman was her father's wife, Eden resorted to drastic measures. “Milady,” she pleaded, dropping to one knee, “for the sake of your dear Lord Marl and my beloved Sire, hear me—and help me. May we speak alone?”

The Countess of Marlborough's stance remained rigid, but the blue eyes softened ever so slightly. “You bring a message from the Dutch Abortion? What can it be if not to send his horrid henchman's soldiers packing?”

“
Unfortunately, it's not that,” said a rueful Eden. “Please, madame, there is not much time.”

Sarah pressed her lips together and snapped her fingers at the servants buzzing surreptitiously behind her back. “Very well. But you impose upon my charity. To think that I would ever consent to meet with the Castlemaine's bastard!” With a swish of satin she whirled, the household staff scattering in her wake. Moments later she led Eden into an imposing antechamber filled with the most elegant pieces of the last three Stuart reigns.

Eden came straight to the point. Without digressions, she recounted the interview with William, Bentinck and Keppel. She emphasized the King's continued intransigence in the matter of Marlborough, then shamelessly inquired after Max.

Sarah listened to the recital with a set face. But when Eden concluded, the Countess's lips quivered with emotion and her eyes flashed with indignation. “All of this is so needless! It's nothing more than jealous Dutchmen meddling in English matters! To be frank, I wouldn't give a fig for Prince Maximilian if my dear Lord Marl hadn't befriended him during the war. As for you,” she went on, getting up from her chair and pacing the Persian carpet, “you may be my husband's daughter, but you're only an embarrassment to me. Why should I trust you?”

Eden's answer was swift and soft. “Jack does.”

The blue eyes stared at Eden for a long time. “Lord, Mistress, it must be so.” Sarah sighed, a hand at her fine bosom. Eden noted that the Countess's middle-aged charms attested to her reputation as one of the great beauties of the previous generation. The Earl of Marlborough had indeed been lucky in love to win the favor not only of the era's most famous courtesan, but of the lovely Sarah, as well. That both were women of incredible determination and strength was further evidence of his own inner character. Patiently, Eden waited for Sarah to respond.

“
Prince Maximilian is with the Princess Anne and her consort, playing cards,” the Countess finally confided. “He's bored to tears, but otherwise quite sound. Bentinck's men can tear the palace down, but they won't find him because they are not allowed to invade Her Highness's sanctuary.”