Suddenly her eyes took on a bright malicious sparkle. “What does Corinna—”

“Corinna doesn’t know that his mother is alive.”

The sparkle went out. “A pretty arrangement,” she said sourly.

“You agreed to it. And please, Amber, if she ever sees you together don’t let her find out. I’ve made it clear to Bruce that he must never mention you.”

“Good Lord! I never heard of anything so ridiculous! Most wives don’t have to be pampered and protected so! Why—I give my husband’s whore an allowance!”

He smiled down at her, slowly and with a certain sad and cynical quirk at the corners of his mouth and in his eyes. “But Corinna, my dear, hasn’t had the advantages of your education. In fact, until she was married, she lived somewhat retired.”

“You men! Why is it the greatest whoremaster among you always marries some simple little sugar-sop who doesn’t know one end of him from the other!”

“When shall I bring Bruce here?”

“Why—any time. Tomorrow?”

“Two o’clock?”

“Yes. But, Bruce—”

He bowed to her again and went on, out of the room, while Amber watched him between anger and tears, undecided whether to break something or cry. So she did both.


They came together the next day at two. The little boy, now eight and a half, was much taller and looked a good deal older than when she had seen him last. His resemblance to his father was stronger than ever. He was not at all like her. He was a very handsome decidedly masculine child with great charm and delightful manners, and it seemed incredible to Amber that he could be her own, born of some brief ecstatic moment so many years ago.

His face was eager and joyous at seeing her again, but like a gentleman he paused just inside the door, swept off his hat, and bowed very formally. Amber ran forward with a little cry, dropped to her knees and flung her arms about him, kissing him passionately while her throat ached with tears. Abandoning his own manners then he returned her kisses but kept his face turned so that his father could not see the tears in his eyes.

“Oh, my darling!” cried Amber. “How fine you look! And how tall you’ve grown—and strong!”

He gave a surreptitious little sniffle, dashing the tears off his face with the back of one hand. “I’ve missed you, Mother. England’s so far away when you’re in America.” He grinned at her now, one brown hand on her shoulder. “You look mighty pretty, ma’m.”

She longed to break into sobs, but managed a smile. “Thank you, darling. I hope I’ll always look pretty to you.”

“Why don’t you come back to America with us? We live in a great house now, in Virginia. There’s room enough for all of us and more. Will you come, Mother? I’m sure you’d like it better than London—it’s mighty nice there, I promise you.”

Amber gave Bruce a quick glance, then kissed the little boy again. “I’m glad you want me to live with you, darling, but I don’t think I can. You see, this is where I live.”

He turned now and appealed to his father, with the air of one man stating a practical business proposition to another.. “Then why don’t we all live here, sir?”

Bruce dropped down so that his weight rested on his heels and his face was almost on a level with his son’s; he put one arm about the boy’s waist. “We can’t live here, Bruce, because I can’t leave the plantation. America is my home. But you may stay here, if you prefer.”

Quick disappointment showed on his face. “Oh, but I don’t want to leave you, sir. And I like America.” He turned back to Amber. “Will you come to visit us someday?”

“Perhaps,” said Amber softly, but she did not dare look at Bruce, and then she jumped to her feet. “Would you like to see your sister—Susanna?”

Together the three ran downstairs to the nursery where Susanna was being given her dancing-lesson by an exasperated Frenchman, and just as they arrived she was stamping her foot and screaming at him in a rage. She did not remember her brother at first for she had been only two and a half when he went away, but very soon they were chattering excitedly, exchanging news. Amber dismissed the servants and the four of them were left alone.

Bruce, for all that he seemed so grown-up, could not resist the temptation to brag to his little sister. For he lived in a great new country now, had sailed twice across the ocean, rode his own horse over the plantation with his father, was learning to sail a boat and had shot a wild-turkey just before they left. Susanna was not to be outdone.

“Pish!” she said scornfully. “What do I care for all that! I have two fathers!”

Bruce was taken aback for no more than an instant. “That’s nothing to me, miss. I have two mothers!”

“You lie, you rogue!” cried Susanna. Her challenge might have led to an open quarrel, but just at that moment Amber and Bruce interrupted with the suggestion that they all play a game.


After that she saw Lord Carlton frequently, and he came even when he did not bring the little boy. Usually he stayed no more than an hour or two, but he made no great effort to be secretive and Amber decided that marriage had not changed him as much as she had feared at first.

At last she grew bold enough to say to him one day: “What if Corinna finds out about us?”

“I hope she won’t.”

“Gossip spreads like the plague here at Whitehall.”

“Then I hope she won’t believe it.”

“Won’t believe it? Lord, how naive d’you think she is?”

“She’s not accustomed to London morals. She’ll likely think it’s malicious talk.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What if she asks you?”

“I won’t lie to her.” He gave her a quick scowl. “Look here, you little minx, if I find you’ve been up to any of your tricks I’ll—”

“You’ll what?”

Her eyes sparkled, her mouth smiled. She rolled over on the bed and her arms went about him, crushing her breasts against his shoulder. Their mouths came swiftly together. Corinna no longer existed for either of them.

As the time went by Amber’s confidence increased. For though he said that he loved Corinna she knew that he loved her too. They had shared so much together, there was so much between them, so many memories—those things remained in his heart and they would always remain there, she was sure of that. She began to feel that his wife was merely an inconvenience, a social handicap, and even Corinna’s great beauty held less terror for her than it had at first.

As she had expected, their meetings did not long remain secret. Buckingham, of course, and Arlington too must have known about them from the first—and, though Charles never mentioned it, undoubtedly he did—but all those gentlemen had other matters of greater importance to them than a woman’s love-affairs. The ladies of the Court, however, did not.

Lord and Lady Carlton had been in London less than a month when the Countess of Southesk and Jane Middleton came one morning to pay Amber a visit—and met Bruce just leaving. He bowed to them both, but though Mrs. Middleton gave him her most languishing look and Southesk tried to rally him into conversation, he made his excuses and left them.

“Oh, by all means, my lord!” gushed Southesk. “Do go along. Lord, I vow and swear no man’s reputation is safe if he’s coming out of her Grace’s chamber before noon!”

“Your servant, madame,” said Bruce, bowing again, and he walked away.

Middleton’s eyes followed him down the corridor, her pink lips pouting. “Lord, but he’s handsome! I vow and swear, the person in the world I most admire!”

“I told you! I told you!” cried Southesk gleefully. “He’s her lover! Come, let’s in—”

They found Amber taking a bath in a large marble tub set on a rug in the middle of her bedroom floor. There was asses’ milk in the water to cloud it and a white-fox robe was laid across the lower half of the tub, concealing her body from the waist down. The room was crowded with tradespeople all talking at once, and the monkey chattered, the parrot squawked, the dog barked. Just behind her stood the newest addition to her household, a tall blonde eunuch, handsome and no more than twenty-five. He was one of the many seamen captured each year by Algerian pirates and castrated to be sold back into Europe where they were bought as household ornaments by the finest ladies.

“No,” Amber was saying, “I won’t have it! It’s hideous! My God, look at that colour! I could never wear it—”

“But, madame,” protested the mercer, “it’s the newest shade —I just got it from Paris. It’s called ‘constipation.’ I vow and swear, madame, it’ll be all the fashion.”

“I don’t care. I’d look like a blowsabel in it.” And then, just as the two women came up behind her she gave a little cry of surprise. “Lord, ladies! How you sneak up on one!” “Do we so? We came in noisy as anything, your Grace. Your thoughts must have been elsewhere.”

Amber gave a little smile and snipped at the soap bubbles with her thumb and forefinger. “Oh, well—perhaps you’re right. You can all go now—” she told the tradesmen. “I don’t want anything more today. Herman—” She glanced over her shoulder at the eunuch. “Fling me a towel.”

Mrs. Middleton’s eyes were running appraisingly over Herman’s imposing physique and now she said, as though he were no human being but a mere inanimate object: “Where did you get this fine-looking fellow? My eunuch is a mere jack-straw—a frightful object, let me die.”

Amber took the towel and stood up to begin drying herself, conscious of their close jealous scrutiny. But let them stare as they could, she thought they would discover few flaws, for in spite of bearing three children she looked very much as she had at sixteen—her waist was as slim, her belly as taut and smooth, her breasts as high and pert. She had given herself the best of care, and yet perhaps she had been a little lucky too.