Anne Herries - Satan's Mark

‘No, sir, you need not.’

Annelise drew the curtain on her chair, shutting herself in as the chairmen began to carry her through the streets. The Marquis was walking beside her and there was a footman following behind, armed with a stout cudgel. It was necessary to be on one’s guard, for there were beggars and vagrants waiting in dark corners to spring on the unwary and rob them of their valuables.

London could be a dangerous place, both on the streets and at Court. Some of the men who had judged King Charles I had already been seized and tried for their crimes, and others less guilty of treason had also been punished for the part they had played after the war. In the country there were murmurs of dissent, and at the Court itself the various factions were at each other’s throats.

Annelise’s uncle had spoken of the Court as a wicked, licentious place, where the King set a bad example to his followers by his immoral behaviour. He had his mistresses, amongst them the beautiful Barbara Villiers, whose husband, Lord Castlemaine, was forced to accept the horns of a cuckold in return for favours given by his Sovereign.

Annelise was well aware that she must be careful of her reputation if she wished for a good marriage.

‘Once you are married, you may do as you wish,’ Lady Emily had told her with a wicked look. ‘Providing you know how to manage your husband, of course. Naturally, you will not take lovers until you have given him an heir…though at Court, I dare swear, there are a good many husbands who hardly know whether their sons are their own or another’s.’ She had laughed, as if much amused at the idea. ‘And it serves some of them right!’

If the ladies of the Court could flirt as they pleased, then so could she, Annelise decided. The Marquis was her guardian, but there was surely no need for him to be so strict with her—he was almost as bad as her uncle had been. She would ignore him, as Lady Emily had told her. This was to be a special evening, and she meant to enjoy herself, despite the little ache in her heart his harsh manner had caused.

Annelise was nervous as she went forward with Lady Emily to be presented to His Majesty. At first sight he looked ugly, with his long face, dark complexion and sad spaniel eyes, but as she rose from her curtsey and looked up into his eyes she saw they were not really melancholy at all. He smiled at her, a hint of mischief in his manner as he welcomed her to Court.

‘So this is Mistress Woodward,’ he said. ‘I had heard you were become a Puritan, mistress—but it seems rumour hath lied yet again. In all the country, I dare swear, it would be hard to find a man who had not wished for my return most heartily, and the ladies cannot be brought to having wished for my banishment at all. But politics are ever thus, what say you?’

‘My uncle Sir Hugh Featherstone is of the Puritan persuasion,’ she replied. ‘But my father died fighting for your cause, Sire—and my mother of a broken heart. For myself, I am happy simply to be at Court this evening, and know nothing of politics.’

‘Well said, Mistress Woodward. You are as intelligent as you are lovely, and will be welcome to us whenever you choose to give us the pleasure of your company—which we hope will be often.’ Charles looked over her head at her guardian. ‘Sir, why do you frown so? This is meant to be a happy night, is it not?’

‘I beg your pardon, Sire,’ Justin replied. He was shocked to discover that he did not care for the look the King bestowed on Annelise. It was far too avaricious. ‘Perhaps you will grant me a moment of your time later?’

‘Yet another request for justice, I suppose?’ Charles waved his scented kerchief, looking bored and slightly out of temper. ‘Later, perhaps. Take your ward into the ballroom, sir. Dance with her. I would have her be merry. She is a lovely child, and a credit to you, Lady Emily.’

‘Thank you, Sire.’ Lady Emily curtsied before him. ‘You are generous to say so.’

‘Bring her often, madam. I would see her always at Court. Such beauty is not to be hidden away. And that is a command.’

Justin placed his hand under Annelise’s elbow, steering her away. In the next room they were already forming sets for the first dance of the evening and he took up his place with her. It was a courtly, gentle dance that allowed for conversation, but for the first few minutes Justin said nothing to her.

‘Are you angry with me?’ she ventured at last. ‘Have I offended you, sir?’

‘Angry? No. Why should I be?’ He looked down at her. ‘I apologise if I have seemed so.’

In truth he did not know what was wrong with him. The King had shown interest in her, nothing more. Was it not what he had planned—an amusing game to put Madam Barbara’s nose out a little? Yet as he looked down at Annelise’s face he felt something very akin to jealousy stirring.

What nonsense! She was a pretty little minx, but hardly likely to be a serious rival to His Majesty’s favourite.

Annelise knew nothing of his thoughts, only that he looked stern, as if she had made him angry. She turned her mind to the dance and curtsied; he bowed, and they parted to take a turn about the room with the next person in the line. A tiny nerve was twitching at the corner of his mouth when they came back together.

‘You seem annoyed…’

‘If I am, it is not with you.’

Annelise digested this in silence. He was angry, and if not with her—then who? With himself, his mother—or the King? Surely not His Majesty, unless he was displeased that his request for an interview had not been granted immediately? Of course, that must be it.

They made stately progress down the line.

‘You must be careful, Annelise,’ he said. ‘I have warned you before. There are those who would take advantage of your innocence. You are new come to Court and cannot know how to behave.’

She had spoken to no one but the King, and then only modestly, in answer to his questions. Surely her guardian could not have objected to that? He was being unfair to her!

She lifted her head, hurt by his odd manner and determined not to let it spoil her evening. Why was he being so stern with her? She had done nothing to bring his censure on her—and she was tired of being treated like a child. Lady Emily had spent hours teaching her how to curtsey, how to hold her fan, how to catch the eye of a gentleman across the room.

She saw a man looking in her direction. He was tall, attractive in a rather harsh way, and clearly interested in her. His approval was balm to her wounded spirit. She dropped her gaze in the manner Lady Emily had shown her, but let her mouth curve just a little at the corners to signal that she was not entirely displeased with his attention.

The music had come to an end. Justin took hold of her arm once more, steering her to the side of the room. It was his intention to restore her to his mother’s care, but they were waylaid by the man who had been staring so particularly at Annelise.

‘Good evening, Saintjohn,’ the man said, his dark eyes giving Annelise such a hot look that she was overcome with confusion. ‘Will you not introduce me to your beautiful companion? Madam, I am overwhelmed. They told me there was new star in the heavens but I did not believe them…until I saw you.’

‘God damn it!’ Justin said, firing up immediately. ‘No, I shall not introduce you, Rathbone. This lady wishes to have nothing to do with you or your kind. Lay a finger on her and I shall kill you.’

A sneer curled the other man’s lips. He bowed mockingly towards Annelise. ‘Forgive me, I did not know he had put his mark on you—but should you tire of his clumsy attentions I am Earl Rathbone, always at your service.’

He walked away before either she or Justin could answer. Annelise was the first to recover from the shock. She tipped her head to one side, gazing naughtily up at her guardian.