And so it was that at last he even turned up in the Palace itself, dressed in the uniform of a sentry with musket, short black wig and heavy black mustache and eyebrows. He wore built-up boots to increase his height and a coat thickly padded over the shoulders. The sentries were often posted in the corridors to prevent a duel or other anticipated trouble, and no one noticed him—for a couple of hours. He amused himself by watching who came and went through the entrance to his cousin’s apartments.
About mid-morning Barbara herself strolled out with Wilson and a couple of other waiting-women; one little blackamoor carried her train and another her muff, out of which peeked the petulant face of her spaniel. Barbara sailed on by, not even seeing him, but one of the waiting-women did and when he smiled she smiled in return. Sometime later when they came back the maid smiled again, but this time Barbara noticed him too. She gave him a sidelong glance just as she disappeared, her eyes running with quick approval over his handsomely padded torso, and one eyebrow went up slightly.
The next morning she paused, gave him a languishing look through her thick lashes, and unfurled her fan. “Aren’t you the fellow who was here yesterday? Is a duel expected?”
He made her a respectful bow and in a voice and accent quite different from his own replied: “Wherever your Ladyship is, there is danger of men losing their heads.”
Barbara bridled, pleased. “Oh, Lord! I’ll swear you’re impudent!”
“The sight of your Ladyship has made me bold.” His eyes looked down into her bodice, and she gave him a smart rap on the arm with her fan.
“Saucy wretch! I could have you kicked!”
She gave her head a toss and walked away, but the next morning a page came to summon him into her Ladyship’s chamber. He was taken down the corridor and through another door which led back to her apartments by means of a narrow passage he knew well enough, for it opened directly into her warm, luxuriously furnished bedroom, and there he was left alone. Barbara was playing with her spaniel, Jockey, and wearing a half unfastened dressing-gown, her hair falling down her back.
She looked up, straightened, and gave him a careless wave of her hand. “Good morning.”
He bowed, his eyes bolder than ever, and Barbara’s own were going over him as though he were a stud stallion on exhibition at Smithfield. “Good morning, your Ladyship. Indeed it is a good morning when I’m asked to wait upon your Ladyship.” He bowed again.
“Well—I suppose you’re surprised that a person of quality has sent for a mere nobody, aren’t you?”
“I’m grateful, madame, if I can be of service to your Ladyship.”
“Hm,” murmured Barbara, one hand on her hip, half her naked leg showing as the gown fell away. “Perhaps you can. Yes—perhaps you can.” Suddenly she was more brisk. “Tell me, are you a man of discretion?”
“Your Ladyship may trust me with your honour.”
“How d’you know I intend to?” cried Barbara, annoyed that he should understand her so readily.
“I beg your Ladyship’s pardon. I meant no offense, I assure you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have you take me for a whore—just because I live at Court. Whitehall’s got a mighty evil reputation these days—but I’ll have you know, sir, I’m a person of honour.”
“I’m convinced of that, madame.”
Barbara relaxed again, and let the gown fall lower over her breasts. “You know, you’re an uncommonly handsome young fellow. If I took a fancy to you I doubt not that I could see you advanced to a better position.”
“I want nothing but to serve your Ladyship.”
“Ordinarily, you understand, I wouldn’t glance once at a sentry—but the truth of the matter is, I find myself strangely drawn to you.”
He bowed again. “It’s more than I deserve, madame.”
“What’s more than you deserve, you puppy?”
This time Buckingham answered her in his own voice. “Why, your Ladyship’s kind approbation.”
“Well—” began Barbara, and suddenly her eyes opened wide and she stared at him. “Say that again!”
“Say what again, your Ladyship?” asked the sentry.
Barbara blew a sigh of relief. “Whew! For a moment you sounded deucedly like a gentleman of my acquaintance—whom I’m not eager to see just now.”
Buckingham leaned lazily back on his musket. One hand reached up to draw off his wig and his normal voice asked, “Not his Grace of Buckingham, by any chance?”
Barbara’s eyes popped and her face went white, one hand to her mouth and the other pointing at him. “George! It isn’t you!”
“It is, madame. And don’t make any sound, I beg of you. This implement”—he tapped his gun—“is loaded, and I should not like to shoot you just now—for I think you’re still of some value to me.”
“But what are you doing here—of all places! You’re mad! They’ll cut off your head if they find you!”
“They won’t find me. A disguise that was good enough to fool my cousin should be good enough to fool anyone, don’t you agree?” He seemed highly amused.
“But what are you doing here?”
“Don’t you remember? You sent for me.”
“Oh, you impertinent dog! I could kill you for this trick! Anyway—I only meant to raise your blood—I was just passing the time with you—”
“A very pretty pastime for a person of quality, I must agree. But I didn’t take up that post to be seduced by my Lady Castlemaine. You know what I’m here for.”
“Not I, I’m sure. I’ve had no hand in your troubles.”
“Only that you gave my secret away to his Majesty.”
“Gave it away? You lied to me! You told me it was York’s horoscope you were having cast!”
“Even a lie, apparently, was unsafe with you. The King needs only a sentence to guess at the whole plot of a play.” He shook his head, as though in sympathy for her. “How can you be so foolish, Barbara, when it’s only by my good nature that you remain in England at all? However, it will doubtless be easy enough to buy my freedom now. I have an idea he’d forgive a much greater offense than mine to know that those letters are burned—”
“George!” cried Barbara frantically. “My God, you wouldn’t tell him! You can’t tell him! Oh, please, darling! I’ll do anything you say! Command me and I’ll be your slave—only promise me you won’t tell him!”
“Lower your voice or you’ll tell him yourself. Very well then —since you want to bargain. What will you give in exchange for my silence?”
“Anything, George! Anything at all! I’ll give you anything—I’ll do anything you say!”
“There’s just one thing I want at present—and that’s the clearance of my name.”
Barbara sat down suddenly, scared and hopeless, her face turned white. “But you know that’s the one thing I can’t do! No one could do that for you—not Minette herself! Everyone says you’re going to lose your head—the courtiers are already begging your estate! Oh, George, please—” She was beginning to cry, wringing her hands together.
“Stop that! I hate a drivelling woman! Old Rowley can watch you mope and wail if he likes but I’ve got other matters to think of! Look here, Barbara: your influence with him isn’t wholly gone. You can convince him, if you try, that I’m innocent. I’ll leave you to think of your own means—A woman never needs help making up lies.”
He put the black wig onto his head again and picked up his musket. “I’ll make it possible for you to communicate with me.” He bowed. “I wish you success, madame.” Turning then on his high heel he left her apartments and the Palace; the broad-shouldered, black-haired sentry was never again seen at Lady Castlemaine’s door.