“Certainly, my lord.”

Amber gave Buckhurst a dazzling happy smile and laid her hand on his arm. They walked out to join the other dancers, who stood in a double line halfway down the room. Charles and Castlemaine were the first couple and everyone followed their lead—a few steps forward and a few steps back, and then a pause. The figure of the dance offered them all opportunity for flirtation or talk.

Buckhurst smiled down at Amber. “H-how the devil did you get here?”

“Why, how d’ye think, sir? I’m a countess!”

“You told me, m-madame, that you weren’t g-going to marry again.”

She gave him a mischievous sparkling glance. “But I changed my mind. I hope your Lordship won’t be inclined to hold a grudge.”

“Good Lord, no! Y-you can’t believe what a pleasure it is to s-s-see a new face here at Court. We’re all s-so damned bored with one another.”

“Bored!” cried Amber, shocked. “How can you be bored?”

But he was not able to answer, for by now they had reached the opposite end of the room where they parted, the gentlemen walking down one side and the ladies down the other. Each couple met again, executed a few steps which formed a square, and the dance ended. Buckhurst led her back to Radclyffe, thanked the Earl, and there left her. Amber knew at once that his Lordship was displeased, that he did not like to see her enjoying herself and attracting attention, completely forgetful of him.

“You’re having a pleasant evening, madame?” he asked her coldly.

“Oh, yes, your Lordship!” She hesitated for an instant and then, doubtfully, “Are you?”

But he did not reply, for all at once the King was beside them, smiling. “It was most considerate of you, my lord,” he said, “to marry a beautiful woman. There isn’t a man here tonight who isn’t grateful to you.” Radclyffe bowed. “We’re all of us tired of looking at the same faces and gossiping about the same people.”

Charles smiled down at Amber who was looking at him, fascinated, powerfully aware of his charm, which was so strong it seemed to be an almost physical force. As his black eyes met hers her head began to spin dizzily. But she was even more aware that here before her, with the whole world looking on, stood the Monarch of Great Britain, smiling and complimenting her.

“You’re very kind, Sire,” said Radclyffe.

Amber made a curtsy, but her tongue was maddeningly tied. Her eyes, however, had almost too much eloquence—and Charles’s face would always betray him in the presence of a pretty woman. Radclyffe watched them, his own face noncommittal as a mummy’s.

But it was only for an instant, and then Charles turned back to address Radclyffe. “I understand, my lord, that you’ve recently acquired a very rare Correggio.”

Radclyffe’s cold blue eyes lighted, as always at any mention of his paintings. “I have, your Majesty, but it’s not yet arrived. I’m expecting it very soon, however, and when it comes if you are interested I should be most happy to show it to you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’d very much like to see it. And now, will you permit me, my lord?” Already he was extending his arm to Amber, and as Radclyffe gave his assent, bowing again, they walked out onto the floor.

Amber’s whole being filled with fierce buoyant pride. It was as though she stood in a blazing light and all the rest of the world in darkness, its eyes focused upon her. The King had sought her out, had flouted convention, had asked her to dance! Before all these people, and here in his own Court! The dreary weeks she had spent alone with Radclyffe, his selfish brutal abortive lust, his unconcealed dislike and contempt—all vanished at once in her violent joy. The price had been paid and it was not too high.

The King called for the traditional merry old folk-dance: “Cuckolds All Awry,” and just as they stood facing each other at the head of a long line, waiting for the music to begin, he said in an undertone: “I hope your husband won’t suspect that choice of music. He doesn’t look as though he’d wear a pair of horns gracefully.”

“I don’t know, Sire,” she murmured, “whether he would or not.”

“What?” asked Charles, in mock surprise. “Married two months and still a faithful wife?”

But the music began then and the dance was too lively to let them talk. He said nothing more and when it was over led her back to Radclyffe, thanked them both, bowed and was gone. Amber was too breathless from excitement and the exertion of the dance to speak. Just as she rose from her curtsy she saw the Duke of Buckingham approaching them.

God’s my life! she thought, in half-hysterical delight. It’s the truth! The men are tired of looking at the same faces!

She glanced hastily around the great room, caught dozens of pairs of eyes upon her—admiring eyes, amused eyes, hostile eyes. But what did it matter why they looked, or how they looked—so long as they did look? Why! I’m the White Ewe tonight-she thought as she recalled an old Alsatian expression.

Everyone wanted to dance with her. York, Rochester, the popular lazy young fop and playwright, George Etherege, the Earl of Arran, the Earl of Ossory, Sedley and Talbot and Henry Jermyn. All the young and gay and handsome men of the Court flirted with her, paid her outrageous compliments, and asked her for assignations. The women exerted themselves to find fault with her gown, her coiffure, her manners—and reached the comfortable conclusion that, after all, she was new and she was rich and of course her reputation as an actress smelt so high it would have caught the attention of any male within the Verge. It was Amber’s night of glorious triumph.

Suddenly into the midst of this perfect world a meteor fell, shattering everything. In one brief interval when she was returned to his side Radclyffe said quietly: “We are going home, madame.”

Amber gave him a look of hurt surprise, for already beside her stood the Duke of Monmouth and James Hamilton. “Home, my lord?” she said incredulously.

Monmouth immediately took it up. “You’re not thinking of going home, sir? Why, it’s still early. And her Ladyship’s the toast of the evening.”

Radclyffe bowed, his thin lips set in a tight ungracious smile. “By your leave, your Grace. I am not a young man, and to me the hour is already late.”

Monmouth laughed, a happy ingenuous laugh which could have offended no one. “Why, then, sir—why not let her Ladyship stay with us? I’ll see her home myself—with a band of fiddlers and a score of links to light us.”

“Oh, yes!” cried Amber, turning eagerly to her husband. “Let me do that!”

Radclyffe ignored her. “You jest, your Grace,” he said stiffly, bowed, and then turned to Amber. “Come, madame.”

Amber’s golden eyes flamed rebelliously and for an instant she thought of refusing, but she did not quite dare. She curtsied to Monmouth and Colonel Hamilton, but kept her eyes down. When they stopped to bid his Majesty good-night shame and disappointment had made her face scarlet and tears stung her eyes. She could not look at him, though she heard the lazy amusement in his voice as he asked why they were leaving so early. Smiles and whispers followed them out of the room—for the impression created was that of a little girl who has misbehaved at her first party and is being led home by a disgruntled parent.

She did not speak until they were in the coach, jogging along King Street. Then she could restrain herself no longer. “Why did we have to come away so soon!” she demanded, and suddenly her voice broke with enraged disappointment.

“I am too old, madame, to enjoy many hours of such noise and confusion.”

“That wasn’t the reason!” she cried accusingly. “And you know it!”

She stared at him, though his face was in shadow, for the streets were dark and the moon showed only a pale light, like a candle seen through a dirty pane. “I am not interested in discussing the matter,” he retorted coldly.

“I am! You made me come away because I was enjoying myself! You can’t stand seeing anyone happy!”

“On the contrary, madame. I do not object at all to happiness. But I do object to watching my wife make a ridiculous display of herself.”

“Ridiculous! What was ridiculous about it? I was doing nothing but dancing and laughing—is that so ridiculous? Maybe you even danced and laughed once yourself—if you were ever young!” She gave him a look of furious loathing, and turned her face away, muttering, “Which I doubt!”

“You’re not so naive, madame, as you try to pretend. You know as well as I do what was in the minds of those men tonight.”

“Well!” she cried, clenching her fists. “What of it! Isn’t the same thing in the minds of all men! It’s in yours, too, even if you—” But there she stopped, suddenly, for he gave her a look so swift and so venomous, so threatening that the words caught short in her throat and she remained quiet.


The next morning, rather early, Amber and Nan came downstairs wrapped in cloaks and hoods and muffs. She spoke to the footman at the door. “Please send for his Lordship’s great coach. I’m going abroad.”

“The coach is being repaired, madame.”

“Then I’ll go in mine.”

“I’m sorry, your Ladyship, but that one is also at the coachmakers’.”

Amber heaved an impatient sigh. “Very well, then! I’ll call a hackney. Open the door, please!”

“I’m sorry, your Ladyship. The door is bolted and I have no key.”

She looked at him with sudden suspicion. “Who has it then?”

“His Lordship, madame, I presume.”

Without another word Amber swirled about and rushed from the entrance-hall toward the library, threw open the door without knocking, and burst in like a gust of wind. The Earl was seated at a table, writing, with a great sheaf of papers beside him.

“Would you mind telling me why I’m made a prisoner?” she cried.

He looked up as though she were, indeed, a disrupting physical force rather than a human being. Then his eyes ran over her slowly and he gave a faint smile, as of a patient man who is somewhat bored.

“Where did you wish to go?”

She was on the edge of telling him that where she went was not his business, but thinking better of it she replied, more quietly: “To the New Exchange. I have some purchases to make.”

“I can’t imagine what they could be. But it seems that no matter how much a woman may have, she always needs something more. Well, if you feel you cannot do without a new pair of gloves or a bottle of essence—send Britton.”

Amber stamped her foot. “I don’t want to send Britton! I want to go myself! I will go myself! God’s curse, sir! is there any reason why I shouldn’t leave the house? What the devil have I done to be used like this!”

Radclyffe paused a long moment before he answered her, gazing reflectively at the pen he turned in his fingers. “This is a strange age. A man is considered a fool if he allows his wife to cuckold him—and an even greater one if he takes measures to prevent it.”

Amber’s mouth twisted into an ugly triumphant sneer. “So at last we have it! You’re afraid some other man will get your children for you! Well, now—wouldn’t that be strange?”

“You may go, madame.” As she continued to glare at him, he suddenly spoke with startling sharpness. “Get out! Go to your rooms!”

Amber’s eyes blazed, as though she could wither him where he sat by the sheer force of her hatred. All at once she muttered a curse, slammed her fan onto the floor, and as she went out flung the door wide and banged it with all the force in her body.

But Amber soon discovered that shouts and violence would gain her nothing. He had the legal right to lock her in, and to beat her if he thought that she deserved it. She had little fear the thin brittle Earl would ever attempt physical chastisement—since she was certainly more than a match for him—but she sometimes had a sneaking apprehension of poison or the sudden thrust of a knife. He wouldn’t dare! she told herself. But she was never wholly convinced, and fear made her cautious.

For several days she sulked. She thought of starving herself to make him submit, but realized after she had missed two meals that such a process would be more uncomfortable for her than for him. Then she ignored him completely. When he was in the room she turned her back, sang bawdy songs, chattered with Nan. She never left her apartments but went about all day in her dressing-gown, her hair undone and no paint on her face. He seemed scarcely to notice, and certainly did not care.