Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) by Judith James

another. A dashing prince and able commander, it was he who had allowed the slaughter at Bolton. It was no worse then what Robert’s own own commanders had done, and he gave him a nod and a cold smile in return.
    He was familiar with Whitehall and had been here many times in Cromwell’s day. He’d even slept in a billet in the west wing a time or two. There’d been a gun battery mounted at the Holbein gate and much of the place was used as barracks at the time. Now, with its opulent hangings, sumptuous seating alcoves and magnificent paintings gracing the walls, it dripped elegance and luxury once more. Such changes made it seem like an age had passed when it had only been five years.
    Housing the royal collection and open to the public, the gallery was the place to hear the latest news. Gossipers, gawkers, and those here on business reacted alike to the parade of ministers and the occasional sightings of the king. They observed every nuance, tick and gesture, searching for clues to great matters of state. Was his majesty’s tone warm when he spoke to this one? Was his smile cold when the other made a jest? Within hours their sage conclusions would enliven the chatter at coffeehouses and taverns throughout the town.
    Robert wasn’t interested in gossip. He’d been waiting most of the day and his patience was at an end. Now, as the orange glow from the west sank below the horizon and somber shadows lengthened to the east, he decided it was time to find some supper and a bed. He was not a petitioner after all. It was His Majesty who had asked to see him . If his oath-breaking, manor-stealing monarch had need of him, let him come and find him at his lodgings. Tomorrow he’d—
    “Captain Nichols!” A sonorous voice echoed through the near empty gallery. “Captain Robert Nichols. His Majesty will see you now.”
    He stepped into a richly furnished chamber. In the center of the room, parallel to a sculpted marble fireplace flanked by Bacchus and Cupid, a beautiful oak table cast its own lustrous glow. His monarch sat there with his sleeves rolled up and his crimson coat thrown over the back of a chair. He played cards with an auburn-haired beauty perched on his lap. It took a few moments before he looked up.
    “Ah, Nichols! Here you are at last, and just in time. Do you play?” The king seemed to be regarding him with great curiosity.
    “My lord.” Robert removed his wide-brimmed hat with a flourish, and gave him a deep bow. “My Lady Castlemaine.” He gave her a deeper one. “Yes, I do. It’s a common pastime amongst soldiers.”
    “Have we met?” The lady purred, her eyes traveling his length with obvious appreciation.
    “I should have remembered it if we had, madam, but tales of your beauty leave no doubt as to who you are.”
    “Handsome, well-mannered, with a modicum of charm. If we can….” The king made a frustrated gesture with his fingers as he searched for the right words. “If we can jolly you up a little, you just might do.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    His Majesty shrugged. “I daresay, some women find such a military air dashing, but you don’t want to look like a country parson. Particularly not this evening.”
    “My Lord?” Robert was growing more confused by the minute. Was the man addled or drunk?
    “I assure you he doesn’t look anything like a parson, Charles. He looks big and and a little bit frightening, and not the least bit meek or mild.” The lady held her hand to her bosom and gave a slight shudder.
    “Mmm. And that’s quite enough from you, my pet. Leave us now. I will see you later.” He gave his pouting a mistress a pat on the rump. She responded with an angry hiss as he sent her on her way. “She does have a point though, Captain,” he said, returning his attention to Robert. “You are very well dressed for a fellow who has just been stripped of his possessions.” He gestured toward the sword. “You came ready to do battle?”
    “I came, because you summoned