Rose (Flower Trilogy) by Lauren Royal Read Free Book Online Page A

chamber, Nell Gwyn’s distinctive laughter drifted out.
    “Aye, my ladies, the tale is true.”
    “Tell us,” a feminine voice demanded.
    “Yes, do tell!” came a veritable chorus.
    Wondering just how many ladies were crowded into the attiring room, Rose stopped outside the door and listened.
    “I took His Majesty to a bawdy house,” Nell confided,
    “and encouraged him to run up a bill treating everyone to drink. Incognito, of course—’tweren’t the type of place his cronies frequent, you understand.” That was met with titters of laughter. “By and by, I took him up to a room and got him undressed, and then ran away with his clothes.”
    “You’re a bold one, Nelly Gwyn,” someone chortled out.
    “What happened after that?”
    “Well, the brothel owner wasn’t disposed to believe this man wrapped in a sheet to be her sovereign—you cannot blame the poor fool, can you? He carried no money, so to pay his debt and for something to wear, he offered an emerald ring as security. ’Twas all he had on him, you see.”
    “And fair enough,” a lady pointed out.

    “Well, the proprietor refused, claiming ’twere paste for certain. Our dear King almost burst a vessel, he did, when fortunately someone recognized him and convinced the owner as to his identity. So all was well.”
    “He must have been furious,” someone breathed.
    “You know not my Charles,” Nell declared. “Once it were all over, he thought it a fine jest indeed!”
    Hoots of laughter greeted Rose when she stepped into the room. “Good evening, ladies.”
    Her smile faded as the chamber fell silent and, one by one, the women shouldered their way past her and out the door. Finally only Nell was left.
    She shrugged and made her way to Rose. “Don’t pay them no mind, milady.” Like a man, she held out a hand.
    “I’m Eleanor Gwyn, Nell to my friends.”
    “I know.” Nell’s hand felt small and warm for the moment Rose held it. “I’m Rose Ashcroft.”
    “ Lady Rose Ashcroft, I’ve been told.” Nell’s twinkling eyes almost closed when she smiled. “They’re only jealous of your beauty. And afraid you’ll steal their men.”
    “Gemini!” Rose exclaimed. “Most of them are married!”
    “Ah, a babe in the woods.” Nell gave a kindly sigh.
    “Here at Court, that makes no difference. No difference at all. The women consider all male courtiers fair game, and the men hunt amongst the women just as freely. Fidelity went out with Cromwell,” she concluded, then wiped her tongue and spit, having uttered the hated name.
    Rose slanted her an assessing glance. “ You don’t seem to worry that I’ll help myself to a courtier or two.”
    Nell’s infectious laughter poured forth. “Bloody hell, sweetheart, what do I need with the pompous fools? I bed with the King. It doesn’t get any better than that!”
    Rose wondered if by “better” Nell referred to Charles’s exalted status or meant that he was a great lover. ’Twas on the tip of her tongue to ask when another lady barged in, her milk white complexion mottled with angry red. She gave Nell a glare that said she wished her dead, then plopped onto a green baize bench with her back to them both, her dark ringlets shaking with barely controlled fury.
    Nell snorted, then sailed out the door with Rose in tow.
    “Don’t pay no mind to her, either,” she said, none too quietly.
    Rose waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “Who is she?”
    “The high and mighty Louise de Kéroualle.”
    “The Duchess of Portsmouth?” Another of Charles’s mistresses—this one, Rose knew, not nearly as popular with the people. Of course, that was due to her Catholicism rather than any fault of her personality, which, after all, they could hardly be acquainted with. Nell, on the other hand, had been known to proudly proclaim herself “the Protestant whore.”
    “Squintabella is in a snit,” Nell said now, “because she arrived today after a long journey from Bath, but