Wicked (30 page)

"I shouldn't have."

"But you did and se
e
—
I
'm fine."

Sh
e
kissed him as he carried her down the corridor and the maids giggled and blushed when they passed but the Duke of Seth didn't hear them, immune to the sight of servants in a house staffed by eighty. And Chelsea didn't care, her warming senses already heated with desire.

******************

Lord Dufferin's irate letter lay unopened on the desk.

But then the Duke and Duchess of Seth already knew their eldest son was reckless and hot-tempered.

As the
Siren
leisurely sailed to Naples that month, Bonaparte was at Malmaison and the Tuileries, with Duroc, Lauriston, and Bourrienne, preparing for his march on Italy. The Reserve Army was being built up at Dijon with units drawn from all over France. Chambarlhac de Laubespin, forty-six years old and a former officer of the king, set out from Paris at the head of the First Division.
W
atrin's troops came from Nantes, joined by Loison's men from Rennes and the Chabran division. From the West Indies came Boudet, a native of Bordeaux, to take over the command of battalions formed from both experienced troops and raw recruits at the depot. Artillery and stores were being assembled at Lyons.

General Dupont was made chief of staff to Berthier, and Macdonald, senior lieutenant-general. Generals Victor, Duhesme, and Lannes were appointed lieutenant-generals. The First Consul's aide-de-camp, Marmont, was in charge of the artillery and Marescot, the inspector-general of Napoleon's army, commanded the engineers.

Murat's arrival at the Dijon headquarters was an occasion for universal rejoicing. He was a courageous and brilliant young man, happily married to Caroline, the First Consul's sister. To assist him, he had General d'Harville and 2,300 horsemen commanded by Champeaux and Kellermann, the son of the victor of
Va
lm
y.

To Dijon came a crowd of actors and musicians, the circus rider Franconi and his troupe, and Garnerin the aeronaut with his balloon. The troops quartered in the region had a very good time and there were dances in the ch
a
teaus, all the young officers full of gaiety and high spirits. Within a few short weeks Napoleon's high-stakes gamble would be in place and 60,000 troops would be poised to invade Italy.

And when all was in readiness, Napoleon would leave Paris to command the Reserve Army in person.

Palermo was cool and overcast when the
Siren
arrived the first week in March. Accommodations were difficult to find with the royal court displaced from Naples by the
French.
⁹

"There's no need to stay long," Beau had promised Serena when she'd expressed discomfort with any proximity to court life. "I'll give Damien's dispatches to the British envoy, Sir Hamilton, and even if he insists on offering his hospitality, I'll politely refuse. We should be able to sail again within a day."

"Good," she'd replied, although her feelings were torn between wanting to leave and sadness at the diminishing time left them. Once they sailed from Palermo, Florence's port at Leghorn was only two days away.

And then the man she loved would leave her.

But Beau hadn't reckoned with Lady Hamilton's interest in beautiful young men and before he'd been able to extricate himself from the British minister's home, he'd promised to bring his sailing companion and their luggage to the Hamiltons' palazzo.

"You simply can't miss our celebration dinner for Admiral Nelson, Lord Rochef
o
rt," Lady Hamilton had cried, her propensity for drama marked in her words. "He's the savior of England!"

He was, too, as anyone with the slightest interest in the war could attest. Had Nelson not defeated the French at Aboukir in the summer of '98, Napoleon would have continued unchecked on his march of conquest.

England had appeared almost on the verge of revolution that summer, so widespread had been discontent, and Boney's sound defeat and humiliation at Aboukir had been a glorious achievement. At Weymouth, where the king first received the news, he'd read Admiral Nelson's letter aloud four times to different noblemen, his excitement and relief plain. After five unsuccessful years of war with France, Britain had desperately needed that victory.

******************

"I can't stay with the Hamiltons," Serena protested when Beau returned with their invitation.

"There's no protocol to speak of here, darling. Consider, Emma Hamilton, a blacksmith's daughter, is confidante to the queen. Quarterings on your family crest aren't a requirement at the court of the Sicilies. And if you happen to hunt, you're guaranteed the king's favo
r
—
t
hat's almost all he does."

"However lax convention is, my position as your lover will hardly make me presentable."

He hadn't thought her that naive. "Believe me, no one will comment," he simply said. Society in Sicily was more licentious than most, although there wasn't a court in England or on the continent that didn't have mistresses prominent in society.

"Nevertheless, I'll be uncomfortable."

"You weren't at the embassy in Lisbon. A 'cousin' is no different here."

"I don't have anything to wear," she said with that female finality meant to cut short further argument.

"You have your ballgown from Lisbon, or if that doesn't suit, we'll find you something," he blandly declared, knowing her entire wardrobe from Mrs. Moore was still secreted on board the
Siren.
There had been little need for fashionable clothes or clothes at all on their voyage from Lisbon.

She shook her head. "You go to the Hamiltons'. I'll stay here."

"You can't. The men have shore leave and Re
m
y's gone off to Naples already. It's not safe for you to be left alone on the waterfront."

"Have you thought of everything?"

His smile was beautiful. "I've a carriage waiting outside."

******************

Emma Hamilton had been one of the great beauties of her time, painted by the celebrated artists Ro
m
ney and Lawrence on numerous occasions, her portraits displayed to admiring crowds at the Royal Society exhibits. And while she'd lost that first bloom of youth for which she'd been rightly esteemed and at thirty-eight was passing into matronly plumpness, she still had the most beautiful eyes and expressive face on seven continents.

Her manners and birth were too rustic for those in English society who viewed blue blood as the only essential to a person's worth, while her marriage to the elderly Sir Hamilton after years as his mistress was treated by many with
scorn.
¹⁰
But Serena found herself liking their effusive hostess from the first.

"Come in, come in, you darling young people," Emma exclaimed on their arrival, running out to meet their carriage in the courtyard. And on being introduced to Serena, she turned to Beau and said with a sweet smile, "She's quite as lovely as your mother, Lord Rochefort. And I remember when all of London was abuzz with talk of the Scottish lass who'd captured your father's heart."

Her gaze swiveled back to Serena. "Did you enjoy Minorca?" she asked. "Lord Rochefort tells me you spent some time there."

"It was quite lovely," Serena replied, blushing at recall of their passionate interlude.

"How divine," the British envoy's wife said. "She blushes. Where did you find this charming young lady, Lord Rochefort?"

"She's a distant cousin, Lady Hamilton. From Gloucestershire. And I've promised Miss Blythe not to embarrass her w
i
th the connection."

"Then I shan't bring it up again and we'll pretend Miss
Blythe is
visiting us entirely on her own. Which I wouldn't
mind
in
the least," she said, turning to Serena. "Lord Rochefort tells me you're a painter of note."

"No . . . hardly, I mea
n
—
p
erhaps someday, Lady Hamilton. Lord R
o
chefort's too kind."

"Yes, I imagine he is," she gently said, "and why shouldn't he be to a wonderful young woman like you? You may go on, Lord Rochefort, and fill Sir William in on all the dreadful talk of war." She waved Beau away with a graceful gesture. "And Miss Blythe and I will have a cozy chat about our toilettes for tonight."

Beau cast Serena a questioning glance.

"Perhaps Lady Hamilton can tell me if my ballgown will suffice," Serena said.

"Of course I will. Now leave us be, Lord Rochefort. She'll be quite safe with me. Miss Blythe will be in the Pompeii suite when you and William have finished talking."

He hesitated still.

Serena smiled. "I'm sure you and Sir Hamilton have much to discuss," she politely said. "I'm fine."

His bow was the epitome of grace. "Until later then."

******************

Lady Hamilton escorted Serena to the Pompeii suite, and gesturing to a small table near the windows set for tea, invited her to sit down. Two maids were busy unpacking the luggage being brought into the room while the ladies drank their tea, the superb view from the window absorbing their interest and conversation.

"You needn't be nervous about dinner tonight," Emma declared when their discussion turned to Lady Hamilton's favorite subject, her lover, Admiral Nelson. "Horatio is the most gallant of men and the company will be light-hearted and gay. The queen has promised to come; you'll find her charming like her sister, Marie Antoinette, poor soul. But my dear Horatio
saved
the royal family
here,
bringing the court away from Naples during the most dire night of peril. The whole and sole confidence of their majesties reposes in dear Lord Nelson," she theatrically declared, "despite what that horrid admiralty says. My," she said, interrupting her customary lecture on the short-sighted judgment of the admiralty that was insisting Nelson leave Palermo, her gaze suddenly struck by the vast number of gowns spread about the room. "Your wardrobe is lovely, Miss Blythe."

With her back to the maids, Serena hadn't seen the display, and shifting in her chair at Emma's comment, she choked on her tea. Immediately jumping up from her chair, Lady Hamilton bustled over and began slapping Serena on the back, calling for water from the maids in an imperative voice. A few seconds later, Serena had drunk some water, recovered her breath, and was able to smile weakly and apologize.

"No need to apologize, my dear," Emma pronounced, shooing away the maids as she sank back into her chair. "No need at all. But you must tell me your dressmaker's name. Such lovely,
darling
gowns. They must be French.
However
did you get them in these times of upheaval?"

"No . . . that is . . . I'm sure they're not French," Serena stammered, taking in the extraordinary number of gowns piled on the bed and various pieces of furniture and she realized then why Beau had engaged a wagon for their luggage. It would seem ... I mea
n
—
I
believe a modiste in Lisbon can be credited with their creation."

"You believe?" The small drama enacted before her eyes piqued Lady Hamilton's interest; the young lady had obviously never seen her wardrobe before.