Polly nibbled her lip. "It does not sound very pleasant."
"It isn't," Richard said. "But one becomes accustomed to it. Now, I accept that you could not possibly have any firsthand knowledge of court life; that was not, as it happens, the point of my question. However, I would like you to tell me what, if anything, you have heard about the way the court is managed. Do you know the names of any of the king's counselors, for instance?"
Polly frowned. "I beg your pardon if I was impolite. I did not mean to be, but it seemed a silly question. I see now that it wasn't." She looked intent and anxious at the two men with an expression of heartrending penitence.
"There is no need for such a tragic mien," Nick said with a slight smile. "You are pardoned, and I trust you will remember the lesson in the future. Now, why do you not answer Richard's question?"
Polly thought, playing with the quill pen between her fingers. "Sometimes there was talk in the tavern; occasionally there would be a traveler, or a merchant… They would complain of the taxes… The king spending a lot of money…" She looked up for confirmation.
Richard nodded. "Anything else you remember?"
"Some quarrel with the Dutch," Polly said. "There is talk that there will be another war, and it will be very expensive and there'll be more taxes. But the king wants it, although I do not know exactly why." Her frown deepened as she concentrated on snatches of conversations that she had heard while serving in the tavern. "One of the king's counselors is against it, though. I cannot remember his name." Absently, she stuck the ink-stained end of the quill into her mouth, then removed it with a grimace, touching her fingertip to her tongue to see if much ink had found its way into her mouth. "The chancellor!" she declared in triumph. "He is against a war."
"Aye, Clarendon," Richard said. "You know how to keep your ears open, it would seem."
"There was talk of the king's mistresses, too," Polly went on. "He seems to have a great many of them, but there are two in particular. I do not recall their names."
"Lady Castlemaine and Frances Stewart," supplied Nick. "What was said of them?"
"Oh, that the king spends too much time minding his lust and his pleasures, and the government is chargeable for his pleasures, and things were managed better under a commonwealth," she declared fluently. "The talk was always along
those lines. I do not think people are very happy with things as they are."
Richard smiled softly, exchanging another satisfied nod with Nick. Untutored she may be, but Mistress Wyat clearly had a lively mind, and a sense of the wider world. She could be schooled for their purposes.
"I think perhaps you should return to the silver," Nick said, glancing to the mantel, where the clock of black mahogany, its base set in silver, showed four o'clock. "Take the book, paper, and quill with you. You may practice when your duties are over, and I will correct what you have done tomorrow."
Polly gathered the book to her breast-a convulsive gesture that caused both gentlemen to experience a ludicrous flash of envy for the inanimate object. "Do you think I will learn enough in a week to be introduced to Master Kil-ligrew?" The hazel eyes were wide and candid in their appeal, her tongue peeping anxiously from between her lips. That matchless bosom rose and fell with the urgency of her words. "Lady Margaret does not care for me in the least, and I do not think I can remain here for very long."
"You need not be afeard of Lady Margaret," Nicholas said quietly. "She holds no jurisdiction over you. You are answerable only to me."
Polly looked as if she did not quite believe this; that lower lip trembled slightly. Then she sighed bravely and left the room, the set of her head and shoulders radiating courageous determination.
"What a masterly performance!" breathed De Winter, rising to his feet.
"In what way?" Nick frowned. His friend laughed.
"My dear Nick, I'll lay odds that she has only to appeal to you just once more in that manner, and you will do whatever she wishes!"
Nick allowed a rueful smile to touch his lips. "The devil's in it, Richard, but I fear you are right. Yet it will not do to present her to Killigrew until she has acquired a little more polish, and until then I must keep her under my eye. I can-
not imagine what she would get up to if I set her up in lodgings somewhere, unsupervised, before she is ready to start her acting career. She is not accustomed to idleness or freedom; just think what the sudden acquisition of both might lead to. She will be quite safe here, under Margaret's Puritan supervision, while we teach her what she must know." He shook his head in a slightly defeated fashion. "But, indeed, at times I doubt my ability to resist her blandishments. Are you not also bewitched?"
De Winter drew on his lace-edged gloves. "She has not set out to bewitch me, Nick." On this undeniable truth, he left his friend to his reflections.
Polly had ample time while working her way through the mountain of silver to plot her campaign. True, she had received a few setbacks this afternoon, but Lord Kincaid must be persuaded to take her into his bed. After that he could not deny her the protection he would afford a mistress, and would remove her from this miserable place so that he could enjoy her without obstruction. One could not summon one's mistress for an afternoon of pleasure if she was scrubbing cooking pots, she thought with a vicious rub at a chafing dish. She would have to live under some man's protection until she had proved her worth as an actor and could command a living wage. Polly could see absolutely no reason why Nicholas, Lord Kincaid, should not be that man. Indeed, she could think of a great many reasons why he should be; the fact that the prospect sent prickly shivers of anticipation up her spine seemed to be one of the most convincing. Lord Kincaid was a most proper gentleman.
She lay that evening on her cot in the attic, listening to the soft snores from Susan beside her, the rather heavier ones from Bridget in the corner. It was still early, and if she had been in her old life, the evening's work would have barely begun; but Lady Margaret kept early hours, and after supper and lengthy prayers, the household had been dismissed to their beds. They would rise at four o'clock, long before
dawn, Susan had told her, tumbling onto her bed with a groan of relief, so she had best take what rest she could. Tomorrow was the monthly wash day, when all the linen in the house must be scrubbed, dried, and ironed. It was a dreadful day, Susan moaned, and they must be up betimes to set the water to boiling against the start of the great wash.
It was not a prospect that afforded Polly any pleasure. Indeed, this passion for cleanliness struck her as a great nuisance. It was not that she found her present wholesome condition at all distasteful-quite the opposite; it was wonderful not to itch-but such an early rising would rather interfere with her plan for the night. His lordship had left the house in the late afternoon, telling young Tom that he might go to his bed in the little closet off the hall, and that he would be required only to admit his master to the house on his return. Unfortunately, no word had been said as to the hour of that return. It was always possible that a man who would not be required to rise before dawn might well not seek his bed until that hour.