To Court, Capture and Conquer. Amanda McCabe
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Sheldon will pay handsomely for their daughter’s purity.”
Rob tapped his ink-stained fingers against the wooden railing of the box. “He would be enraged if that purity was…exaggerated. Mother Nan at the brothel across the alley says he wants only young, virginal whores—or ones good at playing the virgin, anyway. He pays well for it.”
“And what would he pay for a wife’s virginity?”
“I see your plan,” Rob said. His blue eyes narrowed as he watched the girl. “But have you the stomach for it, my friend? I know you’ve bided your time, patiently waiting for this day, but I know you. You’re no Sheldon.”
Edward gave a harsh laugh. “It’s true I don’t share his taste for dewy purity. Virginity is most overrated as a commodity. But as much as Sheldon is paying for the girl’s actual intact state, he’s also paying for the appearance of her innocence. Sheldon certainly values his worldly reputation above all else. I won’t hurt the girl, Rob. I only mean to give Sheldon public cause to fight me at last. The girl will be well rid of him.”
“And then you will disgrace him before the world, deprive him of all he holds dear.”
“Yes,” Edward said simply. That was the one thing he had been living for ever since Jamie died—to take his vengeance on Sheldon at last. The rest of life had been merely grim survival. Meaningless.
Rob shook his head. “It is your right to expose Sheldon, and no one would say you nay if they knew the true circumstances.”
And if Sheldon had not been able to hide his nefarious deeds behind a veneer of respectability for so many years. Edward needed to be sure the man’s disgrace was complete. “This will expose him to the world at last.”
“But it’s well known here in Southwark that he’s a cheat. Surely he would cheat in a duel, too, if it came to that. If he killed you…”
“Then it would still be at an end. I would be gone from this world, and the Queen would be furious with Sheldon for robbing her of her favorite courtier.”
“Her favorite handsome face, you mean.”
Edward laughed. “He won’t kill me. I’m younger and stronger, and I’ve been practicing for this day for a long time. Once he is disgraced at Court he won’t be able to come near any of us again.”
Rob nodded, but Edward could still see the doubt in his friend’s eyes. Rob’s methods were more direct—a rapier in a dark alley, a tavern brawl. But Edward had to expose Sheldon to the world for the villain he was. And Jane Courtwright was the means to do that.
Rob suddenly slammed his fist on the railing. “God’s blood!” he shouted. “The varlet has ruined my words again.”
Ethan Camp, the company’s clown, cavorted on the stage below, declaiming an improvised speech of his own devising instead of Rob’s written lines. Rob ran from the box, slamming the door behind him, and Edward was left alone with his dark thoughts.
He leaned his forearm on the railing to study Jane Courtwright. The White Heron Theater, open to the gray sky above and filled with people for the afternoon’s play, placed Edward’s private box across the yard from Mistress Courtwright’s second-story gallery and gave him an excellent view. She was laughing at the clown’s antics, her eyes shining as she fidgeted on the narrow wooden bench and clapped her hands.
Suddenly, a hand in a pale gray kid glove touched Jane’s arm, and Edward’s attention swung to her companion. It was a woman, older than Jane but still young, clad in a simple, well-cut doublet and skirt of gray velvet trimmed with gold satin. Shining red-brown hair was gathered into a gold caul and covered with a tall-crowned gray hat. Beneath it her face was a pale oval with a few golden freckles over her high cheekbones, and brown eyes that missed nothing around her. She whispered in Jane’s ear, and the younger girl immediately settled down on her seat.
“God’s blood,” Edward muttered, echoing Rob’s curse. Lady Elizabeth Gilbert—and she appeared to be the girl’s chaperone. How would he get around her?
He had encountered Lady Elizabeth a few times at Court. She was the daughter of an earl, the widow of a wealthy baron, and she served as one of the Queen’s ladies. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, and many gentlemen had tried their luck with her, hoping to find their way into her bed. What they usually found instead was a slap to the face or a sharp knee to the groin.
Lady Elizabeth Gilbert was an impregnable fortress of virtue, despite her gorgeous hair and fine bosom, and despite some initial temptation, Edward had decided he valued his testicles too much to try her.
Now here she was with Jane Courtwright. No doubt she would be as fierce in protecting her charge’s virtue as she was her own. This was an obstacle he had not counted on.
Lady Elizabeth looked across the theater just then, and her gaze caught his. Her eyes widened but she didn’t look away. For an instant her face was unveiled, the cool, distant expression she usually wore gone. She appeared startled and flustered, a faint pink blush touching her cheeks. Her lush lips, so full and sensual and at odds with her virtuous reputation, parted.
Edward suddenly had a vision of kissing those lips. He imagined catching her gasp with his mouth and feeling her softness against him. What would she taste like, feel like? Surely her chilly exterior concealed a passion long suppressed, just waiting to be set free.…
Then that cool mask fell back over her face, and she looked like her usual disapproving self. His vision of sex and kisses, of Elizabeth Gilbert’s naked body against his, faded.
She gave him a curt nod and turned away. Jane Courtwright glanced across the playhouse to what her companion looked at, and her head tilted in curiosity when she saw Edward. He gave her a slow, admiring smile, the smile that so often worked a charming magic on the ladies of Court. Jane giggled and blushed a bright pink before Elizabeth tapped her arm and Jane turned away.
He had made a beginning with the girl. But strangely, he had the cold, hollow feeling that it wasn’t Jane Courtwright he wanted to capture.
Chapter Two
“Aunt Bess, who is that man?”
Lady Elizabeth Gilbert stared fixedly at the stage below and tried to ignore the man who sat across the playhouse, watching her. She was all too aware of his attention; it was as if she could feel the regard of his gray eyes on her skin, and it burned like the glow of summer sunshine. It made her long to jump out of her seat, to run, and it took every bit of her strength to hold on to her calm, still demeanor.
Or maybe it was Jane he watched. Her beautiful, sweet niece attracted attention wherever she went, even though Jane took no notice of it at all. That was probably why Elizabeth’s sister and her brutish husband kept the girl locked up all the time. It had taken all Elizabeth’s persuasions to get them to allow the poor child this outing. Jane was sixteen now; she deserved a little enjoyment in life before she was rushed into marriage, as Elizabeth had been at her age.
But Elizabeth’s marital ordeal was over. She had been a widow these two years now, since she was twenty-three. Jane’s hadn’t even begun. The poor, dear girl.
“What man, Jane?” she said, once she was sure her voice would be steady. Edward Hartley always had that effect on her, curse him. He was much too handsome, challenging her stern resolve to be done with men.
“That one in the box over there, of course! The man who was staring at you,” said Jane. “What a splendid doublet he’s wearing. Does everyone at Court dress like that?”
“When they are rich show-offs like Edward Hartley, they do,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Edward Hartley? Is that his name?”
“Lord Edward Hartley. He is the son of the earl of Pensworth.”
“An earl! And handsome, too.” Jane’s eyes, usually as blue and vacant as the summer sky, sharpened. “He does seem to admire you, Aunt