A Smoke after Service (after Church, Dec. 26th)- Xmas 1677

[Blackguard]

Ambrose's exit was blamed on his intoxication for surely he would otherwise have had the stamina for further verbal sparring. With his departure, the focus turned to the new arrival.

 

As the coin vanished, so too did the eagerness of the servants to solve the problem of the water barrel. Little did they know that the purpose of the barrel had disappeared with the departure of the Lieutenant. As such, they turned their collective attention to lifting the wine cask so that it could be taken upstairs.

 

In response to Kingston's accusations, Rochester piped up. "I would never spike any punch or Christmas cheer." Though his face seemed angelic, Francis knew that he was blatantly lying, and enjoying the fact that he knew no one believed him. He had earned a reputation at Brighton. "The King saw humor in the situation," Johnny declared defensively before turning to look at Dorset, "but Middlesex is quite vexed with me still about it." He did not call his friend by his most recent title. "I thought the redhead a good match for Charlie. A big purse and big bosoms."

 

"And I have a good match for you Johnny -- a horsewhip and your back from here to Chelsea," Dorset threatened, with less humor than the situation called for.

 

"Such violence," Rochester tsked. "She probably refused him ... likely the only one," he tittered.

 

"I think we should change the subject," the other Charles declared. "Kingston, I think you should hear Chatham's story about how he lost his eye. I want to see if he tells a different story this time," Sedley laughed.

[Charles Audley]

Charles stared after the departing Turnbull and shook his head.

 

"Oh well. The situation has resolved itself, and my boots are safe. My apologies for distracting you."

 

He nodded again as Francis introduced himself.

 

"Likewise."

 

Charles returned to his seat and sprawled out, almost pouring himself onto the chair rather than seating himself. He shook his head in amusement as Dorset and Rochester turned on one another.

 

"I wouldn't knock it Rochester. There are places where one has to pay good money for that sort of thing."

 

He laughed aloud at Sedley's challenge.

 

"Remind me, what story did I spin for you lot at chapel?"

 

Gesturing airily with his pipe, Charles turned to Francis to await his reaction. Now that he got a closer look at the tall blond, he could detect a resemblance between Dorset and Francis. Perhaps it was that which triggered his recollection of what little John Henry had told him.

 

Buckingham's cousin, and Gentleman to the King. A useful man to know, in short.

[Francis Kirke]

Kingston was happy to be out of the public eye. While pretty enough for it, he was more comfortable away from such things. He looked around for a place to plop himself.

 

"For shame, a couple such as the two of you to yet be rowing," Francis said of Dorset and Rochester.

 

"And surely Rochester knows all such places or has a hand in their operation."

 

Snickering softly, he raised an eyebrow at Sedley. "What I should like to know is what stories of injuries you lot made up to deserve this story? Fractured cock? Burnt wick?"

 

Licking his lips, he turned to the newcomer to the libertine group and said, "Well, let's have it then. I love a good story of bloodshed."

 

He did not have any visible scars aside from one on his cheek right under his eye, and the story surrounding it was more comical than violent. All his more impressive wounds were buried under clothes. He was luckier than Chatham, apparently.

[Blackguard]

There was laughter at Audley's jests. Rochester was certain that the man would fit in nicely with the Gang. Johnny was also quick to take Kingston's words as a compliment. "That is the nicest thing anyone has said about me today, or perhaps my life," he declared with a newfound perkiness.

 

"I do not know whether to laugh or cry," Roos replied. "Johnny, I think Kingston was insulting you by suggesting you attend such places of depravity regularly."

 

"Like this place?" Rochester replied with a sniff and feigned pique.

 

Sedley broke in again to answer both newcomers. "I think Audley told us the tale of him hiding under the bed of another man's wife and his eye was rudely introduced to end of a cane thrust under the bed by the woman's octogenarian husband. But, I do not want to ruin the rest of the story," he uttered with a chuckle.

[Charles Audley]

"A sad commentary in and of itself," Charles agreed with Roos, eye twinkling.

 

Turning to Francis, he answered the blond's question.

 

"Oh, I gave them the story of the eye gratis, so as to cultivate their good will. I suppose I will extend you the same courtesy."

 

Charles chuckled along with his namesake as Sedley invented a story of how the eye had been lost. His mind whirred as he fashioned a suitably entertaining tale from the prompt.

 

"Oh, so I gave you the truth? Damn careless of me. Could have sworn I told you that I lost it in a card game."

 

Charles settled back in his seat and began.

 

"A few details were glossed over, so I shall set the scene. I was in Lisbon, after an incident in Madrid involving a nun, a confessional and a very surprised bishop. To wile away the hours while I waited to secure transport onward, I attended a ball. Minor thing, some lordling's birthday or the like. I had just resigned myself to an evening of unfulfilling polite conversation and heavy drinking when I was introduced to Adelaida de Maia, Condessa de Odemira. Tiny little thing, barely five foot, but eyes you could drown in and wearing wickedness like a crown."

 

Charles paused to draw on his pipe.

 

"Well, we both knew what the other intended, and as soon as was polite I made my excuses and left. She followed on soon after and collected me in her carriage and we bowled along to her home. Immense place, almost comically large, not that I cared much at that moment. Anyway, she lead me to her room and we were just getting set to properly when her maid bursts in, gabbling in Portuguese. The bloody minx just looks at me, smirking, and says 'my husband.' I hadn't even known she was married!"

 

He shook his head, the image of a man repenting youthful folly.

 

"Ordinarily, I'd have been out the window like a shot, but we were four stories up. There was nothing for it but to gather my things and dive under the bed, while the little bitch sat there and giggled. I'd just about hidden myself when the door opened again, and in walked what I first thought was a corpse they'd fished out of a brandy barrel, judging from the general decrepitness and the reek of alcohol. Her husband, as it transpired. He shambled along to the bed and, for whatever reason, thrust his cane in under it. It struck me just under the eye. I don't know whether it was the unexpected resistance or my grunt of discomfort that gave the game away, but the old bastard roared and roused the whole damn house."

 

Another puff of the pipe.

 

"Well, needless to say, I rolled out from under the bed and sprang out into the corridor at the sort of speed you normally only see at Newmarket. Unfortunately, as previously mentioned, the bloody place was huge and I hadn't the faintest idea where I was going. I don't know how long I spent running about the place, dodging servants and assorted family members. At long last, I found myself in a room with a window on the second floor. Unfortunately, there was a rather angry Portuguese man with a sabre between me and it. I was unarmed, but there was a fire in the room and I seized the poker to defend myself. Well, I managed to dance away from his first two cuts, but the third I tried to parry."

 

Charles sighed.

 

"The poker had been in the fire too long, perhaps, but in any case his blade took a notch out of it and kept coming. I'd only managed to slow it and change the angle." Charles drew a finger across the patch. "Took the eye right out. I lashed out with the remnants of my poker and managed to knock him down and then absconded through the window. By the time the sun came up, I was well on my way to Oporto."

 

He looked up, smiling.

 

"And that, gentlemen, is why I can never return to Lisbon. Unfortunate, as I was rather fond of the shirt and hat I was forced to abandon."

[Francis Kirke]

"Oh now, now. How do you know my meaning," he said to Roos with a chuckle. "After all how would I know of such places? Perhaps I frequent them as well." He wagged his brows maliciously; being golden blond it did not have a very sinister effect, but it was more meant for the faux drama of it.

 

Francis could own it as a compliment or an insult, or both wrapped in one.

 

"You know how I love putting you in good spirits, Rochester. I never fail to be generous with figs even you can fuck," Francis replied, snickering. His last good laugh on one of them had been getting more than a handful of figs shoved down Rochester's breeches whilst he was passed out.

 

He could not recall, but he thought Middlesex/Dorset had walked in on it and they had, of course, left the poor earl there for everyone to find. The other earl had owned it like a badge of honor, making the whispers of it all the funnier to Francis.

 

All his attention turned from Sedley's introduction to Chatham's tale.

 

"The beginnings of this sound rather familiar," he tittered. Jumping out of windows or under beds was something that had happened nearly every time he had ported.

 

Francis laughed heartily at the tale, especially at the thought of running about dodging servants and family members.

 

"A tragedy you tell, my lord! For shame! For such a loss, you did not even fuck the Spanish tartlet!"

[Blackguard]

"I thought it was Sackville that was so handy with the figs," Rochester sniffed as he looked at the other earl suspiciously. "I would have no idea what is being discussed," Dorset declared in his defense, and falsely so. In fact, he had encouraged Kingston to adorn Rochester in figs.

 

"I'll have you know that the figs were quite tasty thank you very much," Johnny insisted in a way to protect his pride. "I have developed quite a taste for figs over the years."

 

"So much so that you stuff them in your breeches for medicinal purposes ... to resurrect your departed cock?" Dorset uttered instinctively.

 

"I thought you said you knew nothing of it?" Rochester bantered back feeling triumphant in cornering his friend. "I don't," Dorset insisted. I am sure it was just a dream of mine, or perhaps yours."

 

As Audley related his new account, Sedley nodded his approval, thinking of a plot for a new play. Broad smiles from the others complimented the natural storyteller that Chatham had become.

 

"I think I liked the first story better," Alexander ventured. "I like the fact that he lost the same eye in both Italy and in Portugal," Roos added with a laugh. "Maybe, with luck, he could lose it again in England, but owing to which lady I wonder?" Rochester challenged.

[Charles Audley]

Charles grinned appreciatively at the reaction his tale spinning elicited. It was rather gratifying. After all, it was one thing to be complimented, and quite another to be complimented by one's fellow masters of the craft.

 

"One of my greatest regrets," he told Francis gravely, shaking his head. "But the patch has helped in the harvest of many a fig since, so perhaps it all evens out."

 

He snorted and waved a dismissive hand at Roos.

 

"At last count, that eye has been lost in the Alsace, Austria, Bavaria, France, Greece, Italy, Portugal and Spain. Oh, and Constantinople and the Barbary Coast. Damn thing keeps growing back you see." Charles took a savouring puff of his pipe. "It has given me a great supply of stories for every occasion though- thrilling tales of heroism, tragedies, farces... 'tis a most versatile wound."

 

He leaned back in his seat and grinned sharply at Rochester, trying to disguise the fact that he had all but come on point like a gun dog at the challenge in the other's tone.

 

"Entirely possible. Did you have a particular lady in mind?"

[Francis Kirke]

Francis' blond curls bounced as he chuckled more.

 

"I hope I am around to hear all the many other renditions of the story," the young baron informed the one-eyed Chatham in approval.

 

As to the challenge, the turned his blue eyes to the other gentlemen.

 

"Hm, whose father is likely to attempt to bash an eye in is the question. Too bad all the horde of sisters Roos has are taken," he added, with a cheeky wink. "It might give old Rutland a heart attack and accelerate his inheritance."

 

He tapped his lips with his finger and thought.

Edited November 2, 2016 by Guest

[Blackguard]

Chuckles and laughter accompanied most every quip. Audley rose to the occasion, which was a welcome thing to a group that had begun to despair that Whitehall was becoming barren of wit.

 

As Rochester pondered which lady to suggest, sensing an opening, it was Kingston that supplied the inspiration. "Pembroke!" he squealed in enthusiasm. "Aye, Pembroke," Roos agreed, "or should I say eye?"

 

"Our new friend is likely without much in experience with our lovely Earl of Pembroke, what with him on campaign on the Continent," tittered Merriweather. "He looks the part of an angel," he sighed.

 

"Though he is anything but," Sedley added. Dorset said nothing.

 

"Pembroke looks like Kingston," Merriweather announced in a dreamy voice, appraising Francis more closely.

 

"It's the Villiers blood," Dorset acknowledged quietly.

 

Rochester hastened to add, while he had the momentum, "we already assigned his sister five points Chatham. She's the one you must lose your eye over. It will be the stuff of legends. Charles here will write a play about it, won't you Charles?" Sedley merely chuckled and nodded.

[Charles Audley]

"All of them, Kingston? Unlikely, as I can't remember half of them." Charles laughed. "And I should like to keep some in reserve in any case. But if my memory should improve I'll let you know."

 

Charles looked about the gathering as his new comrades sought to goad him into taking a run at the Herbert girl. He knew himself well enough to know that, having been challenged, he would do it, but that was no reason not to feign reluctance. (For one thing, there were two other men with Villiers blood near at hand.)

 

"You all seem rather eager to see me make the attempt gentlemen. A fellow might almost think you afraid of the competition," he temporised, puffing at his pipe. He looked at Rochester.

 

I want you to know that I know you're playing me, but the devil of it is that you're right.

 

"Of course, for all that, I do like the sound of 'stuff of legends.' And if she's half as pretty as Kingston, she would be worth the trouble..."

[Francis Kirke]

"O'er the entirety of our acquaintance then, let it be long and hysterical," Francis chipped in.

 

When the lads delighted in putting up Pembroke, Francis chuckled, shaking his head. Poor Susan, but she could easily stand up for herself as any Villiers woman could. Nor were there any guarantees of making it easy for their cycloptic friend. With Pembroke, one could lose an eye with only the impression of misdeed.

 

"If your measure of angelic is Satan as Lucifer the Morning Star," Francis chimed in with Sedley.

 

"Yes, well, we could be claimed by face alone. Villiers blood will out. It makes it easier to narrow down who not to fuck. If I stay with dark hair, I shall likely steer clear of any biblical relations."

 

As to that, Francis said trying not to chuckle too much, "You'd be doing Dorset and Herbert a favor if there is a Battle of the Eye, but the King is very fond of Herbert's mother, who is Pembroke's mother," he injected for benefit of the newcomer to court, "And what is all this about points?"

[Blackguard]

Rochester understood the stare from Audley and he clapped his hands in glee. The game was on.

 

Dorset agreed with Francis, though did not have much heart in suggesting Susan as the target. "It might be the best thing to happen to the Herbert family ... to have someone stand up to Pembroke."

 

When Rochester realized that Kingston was ignorant of the game, he started cackling. "You put in a hundred pounds and we six are already in." Rochester was kind in excusing Ambrose from the number. Likely, when the Lieutenant sobered up he would want nothing to do with the game. "Standard game for us ... libertines." Johnny made the title sound like an honorific.

 

"Seduce a lady on the list and get the points assigned. Arrange her seduction and you get the same total, minus one point. We are looking for letters as proof, but we'll consider otherwise if we trust the boast. Lad with the most points at the end of the season gets the pot. You in Kingston?"

 

If Francis was interested, the list would be provided:

 

Eleanor Needham and Arabella Churchill one point

 

Fiona McBain, Ellen Doolittle, Shrewsbury, Heather, Barbara Palmer, Lucinda Hawthorne, Catriona McGregor and Kendishall two points each.

 

Sarah Jennings, Bridget Osborne, Sophia, Davina, Nicolette, Diana Gowran, Julia and Mignonette were worth three.

 

Any Duchess except Cleveland was worth four, including Le Belle Stuart.

 

Frances Cavendish and Susan Herbert were elevated to five points each for the reasons given.

 

"Feel free to add other targets," Sedley invited the newcomer. It went without saying that Kingston would keep it confidential, even if he were to decline.

[Charles Audley]

"Hear, Hear," Charles acknowledged Francis, lifting his pipe in salute. He was beginning to take quite a shine to the blond.

 

He listened to the others discuss Pembroke. His own course had been set as soon as Rochester waved that flag of challenge, but Charles had enough facility for self-deception to at least pretend to mull it over. Even the news of the King's closeness to the Herberts was not enough to change that, though he gave Francis a nod in thanks for the knowledge. It would inform his approach, if nothing else.

 

He plotted on quietly as Francis was filled in on the game, an interesting thought occurring to him. He did not necessarily need to despoil Susan to win the points and the credit. He merely needed love letters, which might well prove easier, and quite likely safer, to obtain.

 

Perhaps it was thinking about abusing technicalities in the rules, coupled with a nasty, suspicious mind, that prompted his next question.

 

"Actually, while we're on the topic, could you clarify something for me? If I agree to this and seduce Lady Susan, who gets the points? Me or Rochester or both of us?"

[Francis Kirke]

Francis' grin widened as he took in the game. It became rather smarmy indeed.

 

He quickly added up the points he had already achieved. If one counted that he had also slept with other of those ladies previously and that he had woken up with the taste of the Duchess of Richmond on his lips as well, he could have something like 11 points already!

 

"Is virginity extra points or is that too difficult to trust on another gentleman's word of honour?" Kingston asked innocuously enough. "Or is that already factored in?"

 

Libertine games were a serious business after all! He had to know the intricacies.

 

"Are you lot sure you want my 100 pounds in the pot so very much?" he teased. "The prettiness of my forefathers is such an advantage with the ladies."

 

Looking between Chatham and Rochester, Francis piped in, "Unless he helps you, I say only you get points."

[Blackguard]

"You get the points," Sedley replied to Audley. "I agree with Kingston. If he is instrumental in getting the girl for you, you can split the points as you wish."

 

"Too hard to prove," Roos quipped about virginity. "I've known virgins who swear they have lost their maidenheads on more than one occasion." Laughter ensued.

 

"Don't take Kingston's money," Merriweather added playfully. "He is right. He is far prettier than all of us."

 

"Speak for yourself," Rochester retorted. "He is certainly prettier than you."

 

Sedley, trying to bring matters to a head suggested "rather than add particular targets to the list, what say we award one point to any lady that you seduce, not on the list, that is not already your lover as of Christmas?"

 

"Seems fair," Roos agreed, as did Dorset. Both might generate points by chasing less visible targets.

 

"Oh yes," Rochester exclaimed, "if Chatham loses his other eye to Pembroke, then we agree he gets half the pot regardless."

[Charles Audley]

"Excellent," Charles said, satisfied. "Just wanted any potential issues settled before they arose." He had had horrifying visions of Rochester claiming credit for inspiring the seduction.

 

He snorted with laughter at Merriweather's comment and replied, tongue firmly in cheek.

 

"Pah. No, let him in. He can't swive blondes for fear of consanguinity, remember? Limits his field a tad. Besides, the ladies may have reservations about bedding down with one prettier than they."

 

Sedley's suggestion drew forth a careless shrug.

 

"Seems simplest," he agreed. It mattered not to him. Charles was a firm believer in quality over quantity, and an even firmer believer in quantity of quality.

 

Charles frowned at Rochester's proposed charity. It was, for whatever reason, almost irritating.

 

"Good God no! If I lose the other eye, I shall have been incompetent and one cannot reward incompetence. It gives out quite the wrong idea. No, the only thing you should give me in that case is your round mockery, so as to inspire me to do better in future." A mock frown. "And, being blind, I should likely need the inspiration."

 

(It could perhaps be surmised that Charles had issues with receiving charity.)

[Francis Kirke]

"So long as you lot admit that you require the advantage," Francis replied with a hearty laugh. He took no issue making fun of himself. He was well-aware of the femininity of his features. His personality and demeanor, though, was certainly not feminine.

 

"Sounds like the arrangements are accepted. What else is afoot for the season? You cannot depend upon me for all of the parties." He raised an eyebrow, saying it almost like a challenge.

 

He had planned the swiving tour, and he had ended up hosting and executing the party at Heather's as well.

 

"Lady Kendishall is having a party on Wednesday, have you heard of it?"

[Blackguard]

"Very well, no charity," Rochester agreed to Audley's request. "Though I'll be damned if I don't steal Arlington's white staff and give it to you, so that you might keep the rabble at bay."

 

When Francis asked for what else was afoot, Rochester sighed. "It was I that was to be the Lord of Misrule. Basildon's cousin cheated before I could. Really. I had an exact replica of the brass ring courtesy of ... ." He stopped before revealing his source. "Some silly girl asked my bloody deliverer to dance, and he did, quite oblivious to our previous bargain. Now I do not plan on doing anything fun," he pouted. "Let the court be miserable without my genius. Serves them right."

 

"I was thinking of a party," Merriweather volunteered. "I would have a dozen artists to make charcoal sketches of each guest naked. They would assume the pose of either David or Venus and we would judge the best look alike and I would give them a prize."

 

Sedley fought a yawn.

 

Dorset added his own thoughts. "I could have a private party at the theater, Rochester could take the stage and declare his genius and then I would supply everyone in the audience over ripe tomatoes. Ten hits wins you a sovereign."

[Charles Audley]

"Now that I shall accept, if only because the thought of that pompous arse adrift without his precious stick is hilarious." Charles grinned sharply at Rochester. "The necessity shall not arise though."

 

He laughed along with Francis. He was greatly enjoying this little interlude, and it was a great pity that Turnbull had gotten himself so thoroughly foxed.

 

"I'm a soldier Kingston. I'll take any advantage offered."

 

Rochester's grousing brought a rueful smile to his face.

 

"Hah! All of man's schemes are as dust before a lady's smile. But buck up man. Surely being sanctioned to make mischief takes all the fun out of it?" Charles felt his grin widen. "Leaving that aside for the moment, Mademoiselle Vauquelin cheated? You're sure? There is more in her than I expected."

 

In truth, Charles had merely been so out of sorts earlier as to forget that there was such a thing as Mistress of Misrule.

[Francis Kirke]

"Arlington is attached to that bloody stick." He toted it around everywhere. "I'd like to know how to plan on getting it. I think he takes it to bed." He then reflected, "Probably has to use it as a dildo to keep a woman in bed."

 

Francis found Arlington excessively tedious. He tried to avoid him at all costs.

 

"And stop pouting. You are Lord of Misrule every day. I am surprised you would go through such lengths in an attempt to cheat your way into it," Francis said, shaking his head. He had to push his curls back over his shoulders after doing it. "And how do you know she did not find the proper one?" He raised an eyebrow. Presumably the real ring had been in a piece somewhere. If Rochester's fake one never made it to him first, why could Nicolette's not be the real one.

 

"A little cold to be standing about naked, isn't it? And art is too difficult whilst fucking to keep warm; artists always wish you to be still," he replied in a faux complaint.

 

As to Dorset's idea, he nodded and chuckled.

[Blackguard]

"That staff of his is much like an additional appendage," Rochester agreed, while already plotting to steal it. Kingston's words about his everyday mischief role served to humor him somewhat but he continued to complain "but the Lord of Misrule can command the King and court. It makes embarrassing everyone so much easier," he lamented.

 

When the topic turned back to the ring, Rochester put his index finger up alongside his nose and replied "I asked Killigrew what the ring would look like. He said it would be simple brass. The ring Vauquelin found was gold, and it had a gemstone; I am sure of it. Killigrew is a miser. He'd not change his plans to add a more expensive ring."

 

"Killigrew declared her the winner did he not?" Dorset tormented.

 

"Yes, the traitorous fellow," Rochester replied with a sniff. "I think we invite him to Merriweather's party and place him with a nude woman but tell him he cannot move until the artist is done." He had picked up on Kingston's comment. "And we keep him there all night until his body turns as blue as his balls."

 

"So you like my party idea then?" Merriweather piped up.

 

"No," Sedley replied. "Why don't you bring up the idea in the summer instead?"

[Charles Audley]

"I should hope for their sake he maintains it," Charles quipped. "Can you imagine the splinters?"

 

Chortling to himself, the cyclopean earl began to muse on how one could steal Arlington's staff.

 

"Does he still have a bearer carry it outside of his sedan chair? A simple matter then. Mask your face, grab the thing and make off with it. And then, I don't know, ransom it back to him, or cut it up and send the bits to him in a parcel."

 

Charles arched an eyebrow as Rochester explained why he thought Nicolette had cheated. It seemed a trifle thin to him, but whatever comforted the other fellow he supposed.

 

Still, might be worth a polite, anonymous note to Master Killigrew, just for fun. Would do me good to keep my hand in, if nothing else.

 

He nodded along with Francis' objections to Merriweather's party.

 

"I'm with Kingston. Even leaving aside the weather, artists are bloody tyrants when they're working. No sympathy for cramps or itches and I very much doubt they would have any for blue balls either."

[Francis Kirke]

"Sounds like a very good plan, my lord," Francis said to Chatham. "I have no experience of his sedan chair tendencies." He had not been at court long enough to know much about Arlington's habits. He cast his blue eyes to the older men, surely one of them would know. Some of them served in the household and far longer than he had.

 

"Not sure I would wish to touch the thing without gloves." He grinned playfully.

 

"Yes, summer would be better. Cold is not good for appearances." If he was going to be immortalized naked, his cock would not be half-hidden. But truly standing about naked with bunches of people for hours did not sound all that thrilling. He much preferred fucking tours.

 

"Perhaps you should have paid him off better, Rochester? Help him rebuild his theater to compete with Dorset here."

[Blackguard]

"Maybe we should provide him with a sedan chair to promenade with, complete with a servant who will replace his white staff with a white dildo I am thinking. To see the look on his face, and those of others when he grasps the dildo in an official way is worth all of the expense," Rochester tittered.

 

Others laughed at the scene unfolding in their minds. It seemed somehow possible as the gentlemen discussed it.

 

As for Killigrew, Rochester realized that he had said too much already, a common shortcoming of the Earl. "I am too fond of Sackville to help Killigrew," Rochester declared, putting his arm around Dorset. "Besides, Killigrew already has a patron, or should I say patroness." He was repressing a giggle and let go of Dorset as he began to distance himself physically. "By that, I mean his most recent wife." It was then that he let loose with a pleased laugh.

 

It was not wise for Johnny to keep referring to Heather O'Roarke in Dorset's company. He had been directly involved in lacing the punch and arranging a priest to marry the couple once they were found together. Sedley doubted that Dorset would ever forgive him for that prank taken too far. Sedley would have arranged an actor to pretend to be a priest instead.

 

Dorset, clearly annoyed, fought to pretend indifference instead. "I think I know a use for Arlington's staff before we give it to Chatham." By his look, it was clear that Charles meant an insertion into Rochester.

 

"He might like that," Merriweather laughed.

 

"However, I do like the image of it," Roos admitted, "and I would be plain in telling Arlington just where his staff had been prior to its return." This caused Sedley to laugh.

[Charles Audley]

Charles shrugged at Francis.

 

"It's the soldier in me. I'm inclined to be... direct."

 

Or so he liked people to think. It was frankly astounding what one could get away when people saw one as a bombastic voluptuary who thought subtlety was something you contracted from prostitutes.

 

He laughed along with the others at Rochester's plan and listened as the talk turned to Killigrew's patroness, apparently Dorset's latest wife (or perhaps Killigrew's). An inside joke, obviously, though judging from Dorset's reaction not one he had taken kindly to. Charles arched an eyebrow.

 

"Should we put it to that use, we shall most certainly not be giving it to me. I'm with Roos. Return it to Arlington, and then tell him what had been done with it."

 

Charles lolled his head back lazily.

 

"In any case, the question is academic. I shan't be losing an eye or any other part of me to Pembroke," he declared confidently.

[Francis Kirke]

Francis chuckled during the discussion of Dorset's relation to this whole thing. Indeed, Dorset had bizarre entanglements with both schemes. He was sure he was not the only one who realized it. The tiff with Pembroke was at least known within the family.

 

In a rare moment of cousinly solidarity, he decided not to poke fun at Sackville, instead just gave him an amused look.

 

Laughter almost seemed to echo of the walls as the path of the staff was plotted in humorous detail. He nodded at the idea of giving it back.

 

"Rather than tell him, start some whispered rumors of what had been done with it and let them all reach his ears, and everyone else's, until the court laughs every time he carries it in front of himself!" That was far more satisfying than just getting one over.

 

"Academic! Wait now. I think there is more interest in the results of Rochester stealing the staff than how many ladies we can attempt to fuck," Francis chirped. "It sounds like most the plan is together already."

[Blackguard]

Dorset came to life. "Quite right. We snatch the staff, sodomize Johnny with it and then return it to Arlington. We arrange a sedan chair for the Earl to take him to the next court function. We cannot rely on the palace servants. They are beholden to him as the Chamberlain. Kingston, have your lad Tommy, or someone else, nearby. Bennet will suspect something if he sees one of our servants nearby to take possession of the staff. Johnny, you delay the servant carrying the staff so Tommy can pluck it and run. We can tell Bennet that we have punished Johnny properly for the theft. He can learn later how we punished Rochester."

 

"You can stick your prick up my arse, but not that staff," Johnny declared with drama in his voice and his arms crossed. "I have enough pain down there without splinters."

 

"If you are a good lad, we'll stick the staff in horse dung and say it was up your bung instead," Sedley laughed. "I sense a limerick coming on," Dorset laughed.

 

Eager to be a part of the mischief, Alexander perked up "what is my role in this?" Dorset replied "you can pay for the sedan chair." Merriweather seemed crestfallen. "Oh, let him be the one to sink it in shit," Roos offered with a laugh, as if that would be an honor.

[Charles Audley]

"Oh, of course not, this theft promises to be most diverting. No, I was referring purely to the idea of gifting it to me after Pembroke hypothetically blinds me," Charles clarified for Francis.

 

Charles listened to Dorset's refinement to his original plan, slapping the arm of his seat in appreciation.

 

"That should work."

 

He shared an amused look with Roos at Merriweather's disappointment. (Alexander was beginning to put Charles in mind of a child tagging along with his elders, almost jogging to keep up.)

 

"Well, someone will have to ensure that the story reaches the ear of everyone at court," he offered. "I'd do it but I am as yet unfamiliar with the inner workings of the Whitehall rumour mill."

[Francis Kirke]

"Are you lot insinuating that I'm a smuggler and that my ward might be skilled at thievery?" Francis asked, putting a hand to his chest with drama. If he was sensitive, he might have been something affronted that his own cousin suggest he use Tommy to steal from Arlington, joke or not. Arlington would make sure it was not seen as a joke, and that was sure to put the King in a difficult position no matter who their thief was, because he was quite sure the King would find the whole thing very amusing.

 

"Oh I think I could ensure that it reaches quite a number of ears. As you lot noted, my prettiness has a way with the ladies, and you know the ladies battle in rumor and gossip instead of bullets and swords.