“And you won’t ever do that again, will you?” said Amber.

“Never again,” agreed Susanna.

Sir Frederick came in then, made her an elaborate bow from the doorway and another when he stood before her. “Your Ladyship’s servant,” he said soberly, but his eyes swept over her with familiarity and confidence.

Susanna curtsied to him and Sir Frederick bent very low to kiss her hand. Her eyes lighted on his wig, began to sparkle with mischief, and then she gave a quick guilty glance toward her mother whom she found watching her and waiting, with pursed lips and tapping foot. Instantly she put both hands behind her. Amber laughed, gave her daughter a kiss and sent her out of the room with her nurse. She watched her go, her eyes wistful and fond as they followed the dainty little figure in ankle-length crisp white gown and tiny apron, her mass of golden waves caught at one side with a green bow. She was very proud of Susanna who was, she felt sure, the loveliest little girl in England—and England, of course, was the world. The door closed and she turned back immediately to Sir Frederick, asking him to be seated.

Amber went to her dressing-table to finish painting her face. He sat beside her, very smug and pleased with himself to have been invited to her Ladyship’s levée—and in such privacy too, not another man around. He imagined that he knew quite well why she had asked him.

“Your Ladyship does me great honour,” he said, his eyes on her breasts. “I’ve had the greatest admiration for your Ladyship ever since the first day I saw you—in the forefront of the King’s box at the theatre some months ago. I vow and swear, madame, I could not keep my mind or eyes on the stage.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir. As it happens I’ve been noticing you, too—in conversation with my mother-in-law—”

“Pshaw!” He screwed up his face and gave a brush of one hand. “She’s nothing to me, I assure you!”

“She speaks mighty well of you, sir. I could almost say I think she’s in love with you.”

“What? Ridiculous! Well, what if she is? That’s nothing to me, is it?”

“You haven’t taken advantage of her tenderness for you, I hope?”

She got up now and crossed the room to stand behind a screen while she dressed. And as she went she let her dressing-gown slide just a little, allowing him a glimpse of one taut full breast just before she disappeared; she still wanted the admiration of every man, however little he might be to her. But she slept with Charles—or alone.

It was a moment before Sir Frederick replied, and then he was emphatic. “Lord, no! I’ve never so much as asked her an indecent question. Though to tell your Ladyship truly I think that if I did I might not be disappointed.”

“But you’re too much the man of honour to make a try?”

“I’m afraid, madame, she’s not quite to my taste.”

“Oh, isn’t she, Sir Frederick? And why not, pray?”

Sir Frederick was becoming baffled. When she had invited him to pay her a call he had told all his friends that the young Countess of Danforth had fallen mightily in love with him and had sent for him to lie with her. Now he began to think that she did not want him for herself after all, that perhaps she was playing bawd to procure him for her mother-in-law. A pretty fool he’d look if she intended to fob him off on that old jade!

“Well, she’s a great deal older than I am, your Ladyship. My God, she must be forty! Old women may like young men, but I’m afraid it can’t be said that the reverse holds true.”

Now fully dressed, Amber walked to the dressing-table, where she began sorting through a boxful of jewels. Nothing in all her new life at Court had pleased her so much as this moment when she found herself so high, so rich, so powerful, that she could arrange the lives of others to suit herself. She held up a diamond-and-emerald bracelet to the light, rolling out her lower lip as she considered it, aware of his eyes watching her and aware too of what he was thinking.

“Well, then, Sir Frederick, I’m sorry to hear that.” She fastened the bracelet. “I had thought I might be able to help your case with her. She’s a great fortune, you know.” She pawed idly through the rest of the jewellery.

He came instantly to life, straightening in his chair, leaning forward. “A fortune, did you say?”

She looked at him with mild surprise. “Why, yes, of course. Didn’t you know that? Lord, she’s got a hundred suitors, all of ’em mad to marry her. She’s considering which one she’ll have—and I thought she had a peculiar fancy to you.”

“A fortune! I didn’t know she had a shilling! Everyone told me—Well, your Ladyship, to tell you truly, this is a mighty great surprise!” He seemed stunned, unable to believe the good luck which had apparently blown his way by accident. “How much—a—that is—”

Amber came to his rescue. “Oh, I should say about five thousand pound.”

“Five thousand! A year!” Five thousand a year was, in fact, a fortune of immense size.

“No,” said Amber. “Five thousand in all. Oh, of course she has some property too.” That was obviously a disappointment to him and as she saw the look on his face she added, “I think she was about to accept young What-d’ye-call—I don’t remember his name just now. The one who always wears the green-satin suit. But if you speak to her quick enough perhaps you can persuade her to give you a hearing.”

It was not two weeks later that Sir Frederick married the Dowager Baroness.

Aware that most pretty young women with money had either sharp-eyed parents or guardians who would never consider him a good match, he began to pay his court to her almost immediately upon quitting Amber’s apartments—and when he proposed she accepted him. Amber gave her five thousand pounds in return for a witnessed statement that she would never again ask or expect money from her.

At first the Baroness was highly indignant, refused absolutely, and said that she would have all the money since it was her son’s by right. Amber soon persuaded her that in such a case the King would take her side and in the end Lucilla was glad to get the five thousand pounds, which would not now do a great deal more than clear her debts. But she was not giving very much thought to money. All her emotions were centered in the exciting prospect of being a wife again, this time to a handsome and young man who did not seem aware that she was old enough to be his mother. The ceremony took place at night and though Gerald was wretchedly embarrassed by his mother’s behaviour Amber was at once amused, relieved and contemptuous.

There’s no more ridiculous creature on earth, she decided, than your virtuous woman who makes herself miserable for years to preserve what the captious world will never credit her with having.

Now that Amber was rid of her mother-in-law she decided to make a similar arrangement with her husband. She knew that he had begun an affair with Mrs. Polly Stark, a pretty fifteen-year-old who had recently taken a small shop in the ’Change, where she sold ribbons and other trinkets. And so one evening in late November when he strolled into her Majesty’s Drawing-Room she left her card-table and went to join him.

As always when he found himself face-to-face with her he had a look of dread expectancy. Now he supposed that she was going to harangue him about Mrs. Stark. “Gad!” he exclaimed. “But it’s damned hot in here. Frightful, let me perish!”

“Why, I don’t find it so,” said Amber sweetly. ‘Lord, what a handsome suit that is you’re wearing. I vow your tailor’s quite beyond compare.”

“Why—thank you, madame.” Bewildered, he looked down at himself, then quickly returned the compliment. “And that’s a mighty fine gown, madame.”

“Thank you, sir. I bought the ribbons of a young woman newly set up in the ‘Change. Her name’s Mrs. Stark, I think—She knows everything in the world about garniture.”

He turned red and swallowed. So it was Mrs. Stark. He wished he had never come to the Palace. He had not wanted to but had been persuaded by some friends who had an intrigue in the fire with a couple of her Majesty’s Maids. “Mrs. Stark?” he repeated. “Mort Dieu, the name’s familiar!”

“Think hard and I believe you’ll recall her. She remembers you very well.”

“You talked to her!”

“Oh, yes. Half an hour or more. We’re great friends.”

“Well.”

She laughed outright now, tapping him on the arm with her fan. “Lord, Gerald, don’t look so sheepish. How could you be in the fashion if you didn’t keep a wench? I swear I wouldn’t have a faithful husband—it’d ruin me among all my acquaintance.”

He looked at her with astonishment and then stared down at his shoes, frowning unhappily. He was not quite sure whether she was serious or was making fun of him; whichever it was he felt like a fool. He could think of nothing to say in reply.

“And what d’you think?” continued Amber. “She complains you’re stingy.”

“What? Stingy—I? Well, gad, madame—She wants to keep a coach and occupy lodgings in Drury Lane and will wear nothing but silk stockings and I can’t think what all. She’s a damned expensive jade. It would cost me less to keep London Bridge in repair than to support her.”

“Still,” said Amber reasonably, “you can’t set up for a beau if you don’t keep a whore, can you?”

He gave her another quick glance of amazement. “Why—I—Well, it’s all the mode, of course, but then—”

“And if you’re going to keep a wench she must be pretty and the pretty ones come at a high figure.” Suddenly she sobered. “Look, sir: Suppose we two strike up a bargain. I’ll give Mrs. Stark two hundred pound a year—while she keeps your good graces—and I’ll give you four hundred. You can sign a paper agreeing to meet your own expenses from that amount and trouble me no further. If you run into debt I’ll not be held responsible. How does that sound to you?”