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  PRAISE FOR

  Venus in Winter

  “A vast panorama of Tudor history, from the viewpoint of a legendary woman who loomed large in it.”

  —Margaret George, author of Elizabeth I: The Novel

  “Venus in Winter does justice to the extraordinary, powerful, and dangerous Bess of Hardwick. Gillian Bagwell has brought to vivid life one of the great women of Tudor England.”

  —Bernard Cornwell, author of 1356

  “The crushing anxiety of family financial burdens, the marital expectations placed on high-born young women, and the uncertainties of life under Henry VIII and his children are all explored in this richly imagined and beautifully written novel. I think it’s Bagwell’s best!”

  —Patricia Bracewell, author of Shadow on the Crown

  “Bagwell proves that a Tudor heroine doesn’t have to be royal to fascinate us. An eyewitness account of the turbulent reigns of five English monarchs, Venus in Winter is a refreshing, engaging, and impeccably researched novel.”

  —Leslie Carroll, author of Royal Romances

  “A wonderful portrait of one of Elizabethan England’s most fascinating—and most long-lived—women. A great read, rich with detail and story.”

  —Diana Gabaldon, author of the bestselling Outlander series

  PRAISE FOR

  The September Queen

  “Gillian Bagwell did an exceptional job at writing Jane and Charles’s on-the-run romance. Charles not only seduces Jane, but the readers as well . . . Sprinkled with Shakespearean references that add a magical touch to Jane and Charles’s romance, The September Queen is a love story that will stay with you long after you finish the novel.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Bagwell’s telling of Charles and Jane’s romance is bittersweet and full of passion. This richly detailed story will delight lovers of a hot romance!”

  —Dolce Dolce

  “The real hero in this tale is the ever-patient and admirable protagonist, Jane Lane. Her story—her survival and constancy through unthinkable hardships and impossible circumstances—is one that shouldn’t be missed!”

  —Historical Novel Society

  “Bagwell may be one of the newer writers in the historical fiction genre, but she is one of the most talented. Her love and knowledge of the time period shines through as well as her beautifully written words and descriptive details. This novel is guaranteed to be a favorite among historical fiction readers!”

  —Pittsburgh Historical Fiction Examiner

  “An extraordinarily engrossing read! . . . It had everything that I look for in a novel—drama, romance, danger, and adventure. I devoured it in two sittings.”

  —Passages to the Past

  “Bagwell reimagines [Jane and Charles’s] relationship with insight and conviction . . . A fast-paced, sensual chase and a tribute to a courageous woman who made her mark on England’s history.”

  —The Misadventures of Moppet

  PRAISE FOR

  The Darling Strumpet

  “Bawdy and poignant . . . An ebullient page-turner!”

  —Leslie Carroll, author of Royal Pains

  “[A] richly engaging portrait of the life and times of one of history’s most appealing characters!”

  —Diana Gabaldon, author of the bestselling Outlander series

  “Hard to resist this sort of seduction—a Nell Gwynn who pleasures the crowds upon the stages of London and the noblest men of England in their bedrooms. A vivid portrait of an age that makes our own seem prudish, told with verve, humor, pathos . . . and not a little eroticism.”

  —C. C. Humphreys, author of A Place Called Armageddon

  “An absolute triumph as a debut novel . . . [It] is an absolutely brilliant addition to the historical fiction genre and might be the best novel on Nell Gwynn ever . . . Nell would have applauded in approval and probably done a little jig to celebrate her tribute.”

  —Pittsburgh Historical Fiction Examiner

  “Gillian Bagwell’s meticulously researched novel takes us from the cobbled, rubbish-strewn alleys of Covent Garden to the Royal Theatre in Drury Lane and into the royal court. She handles the seventeenth-century London street vernacular with aplomb . . . I can thoroughly recommend this book, and look forward to Miss Bagwell’s next foray into seventeenth-century England.”

  —Historical Novel Reviews (five stars)

  “The reader is kept in absolute rapture from start to finish! . . . I enthusiastically recommend The Darling Strumpet, and if her debut novel is any indication of the fabulousness we can look forward to in future books by Gillian Bagwell, then consider me hooked!!”

  —Passages to the Past (five stars)

  “For . . . Restoration England lovers this book is a must . . . The sky is the limit for Gillian’s future in historical fiction.”

  —Historically Obsessed (five stars)

  “This book was just all around solid. The characters were rich and complex, the plot was paced well, and the period language felt natural . . . I LOVED it . . . If you are a Nell fan, or a fan of historical fiction in general, this is a must read, and if you haven’t read much historical fiction, this book would be a great introduction!”

  —The Book Buff (five stars)

  “The atmosphere of Restoration London is beautifully rendered in this richly textured novel. Sedan chairs, frost fairs, hot wassail, changeable silks—the details on every page evoke time and place . . . I would definitely recommend The Darling Strumpet to anyone looking for a rich and spicy January read.”

  —The Misadventures of Moppet

  “Written in the vein of Philippa Gregory’s The Other Boleyn Girl and Tracy Chevalier’s The Lady and the Unicorn . . . Gillian Bagwell is a masterful writer . . . A thrilling and enchanting story that will stay with you long after you turn the last page.”

  —The Season for Romance

  “As bawdy and engaging as Nell herself was reputed to be. Bagwell’s well-researched novel accurately captures the rowdy, sexy Restoration period . . . Romantics will devour this engaging, sexy page-turner.”

  —Dolce Dolce

  “Fans of historical fiction or the Restoration era, or simply desirous of an immersive, fast-paced look into another time, will likely find much to enjoy here.”

  —Pop Matters

  “After this fabulous debut piece of work I cannot wait to see what else Gillian Bagwell has for us historical fiction fans.”

  —BurtonReview.blogspot.com

  “I loved it . . . I found myself caught up in the story and just didn’t want to put it down . . . This is a very enjoyable book on an extraordinary woman.”

  —Broken Teepee

  “Nell claims her place in history and Charles Stuart’s heart, a memorable footnote to an era of flourishing theater and outrageous personalities, ever the people’s darling . . . The lusty, good-hearted Nell has secured her place in England’s turbulent past, a destitute girl who wins the undying love of the Restoration king. Bagwell does her story justice.”

  —Curled Up with a Good Book

  “Bagwell delights readers with tales of Nell Gwynn’s escapades in historically accurate detail . . . Nell would have given Madonna and Lady Gaga a run for their money had they been around back then! The Darling Strumpet is a well-told historical romance that will be enjoyed by Anglophiles and fans of the days of old alike.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “This is probably not a book I will ever re-read. I don’t need to . . . I will never forget it . . . Gillian Bagwell spent twenty years researching this, her debut book. The wealth of historical detail makes it obvious that the time was well spent.”

  —Seductive Musings

  Books by Gillian Bagwell

  THE DARLING STRUMPET
>
  THE SEPTEMBER QUEEN

  VENUS IN WINTER

  VENUS in WINTER

  GILLIAN BAGWELL

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  Copyright © 2013 by Gillian Bagwell.

  Excerpt from The Darling Strumpet copyright © 2011 by Gillian Bagwell.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY®is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley trade paperback edition / July 2013

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-62455-5

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bagwell, Gillian.

  Venus in winter / by Gillian Bagwell.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-0-425-25802-6 (alk. paper)

  1. Shrewsbury, Elizabeth Hardwick Talbot, Countess of, 1527?–1608—Fiction. 2. Great Britain—History—Elizabeth, 1558–1603—Fiction. 3. Biographical fiction. 4. Historical fiction. I. Title. PS3602.A3975V46 2013

  813'.6—dc23

  2013007797

  Cover design by Lesley Worrell

  Cover illustration by Trish Cramblet

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Contents

  Praise

  Also by Gillian Bagwell

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  PROLOGUE

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  PART FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Special Excerpt from The Darling Strumpet

  This book is dedicated to the memory of my grandmothers

  Ruth Hedwig Matilda Herbold Bagwell

  June 1, 1911–February 12, 2004

  Charlotte Inez Prather Loverde

  July 23, 1912–August 5, 1995

  PROLOGUE

  Twenty-fifth of March, 1603—Hardwick Hall, Derbyshire

  SHE STOOD AT THE WESTWARD-FACING WINDOW OF HER BEDCHAMBER. The sun was poised to slip over the horizon, and its rays slanted across the rolling hills and fields as though in a last desperate attempt to cling to the rolling ball of the earth. The sky was shot with pink and gold, the underside of the drifting clouds aflame with the sun’s dying glory.

  The queen was dead.

  Bess found it hard to take in this fact. Since the messenger from her son William in London had arrived that afternoon her mind had seethed with thoughts and memories. Elizabeth, whom she had first met as a grave-faced girl of six, her dark anxious eyes in a pale face beneath the shining red hair—so like Bess’s own—standing like a small soldier in petticoats to meet the arrival of the stranger who would marry her father. Elizabeth, her face at twenty gaunt with suppressed terror at what she might suffer at the hands of her sister Mary, newly queen, though no one then could have guessed at the horrors the next handful of years would see. Elizabeth, her face alight with love as she gazed on Robert Dudley. Elizabeth, the wind from the sea whipping her skirts at Tilbury as she sat a-horseback, exhorting her troops. Elizabeth, as Bess had last seen her, in that July more than ten years earlier, the queen about to set off on progress to the West Country and Bess returning to Derbyshire, fleeing the plague that raged in London. The queen had turned then, caught Bess’s eye, smiled as she raised her hand in a wave of farewell.

  Now Elizabeth was gone, reckoned an old woman, and she had been six years younger than Bess. And it was James of Scotland who would succeed her. Bess’s hopes and dreams and schemes of the last twenty-eight years, that it might be her granddaughter Arbella who sat on the throne, had finally been crushed in the dust. Well, what did it matter, when all was said and done? Arbella had broken her heart—only five days earlier Bess had revised her will, cutting out her granddaughter as well as her son Henry—and this news was but the final disappointment.

  The sun was gone now, and dark fingers of shadow were reaching toward Hardwick Hall. Bess shivered, despite the voluminous folds of the heavy black wool of her gown, and drew her fur-lined robe tighter about her. She felt the cold so easily now and it seemed she could never get warm. Though today, Lady Day, the start of the new legal year, was deemed to be the first day of spring, the Derbyshire countryside was still wintry. And all this glass—her glorious windows, soaring up to the high ceilings—made Hardwick even colder than it would have been otherwise. What was it Robert Cecil had said about the house? Ah, yes. Hardwick Hall, more window than wall.

  A discreet cough interrupted her thoughts and she turned to see Robert Crossman, her master builder, who had come at her summons, hat in his hands as he made his bow.

  “How may I be of service to your ladyship?”

  Crossman had been with Bess for more years than she could recall, working first on Chatsworth, then on the alterations to the old manor at Hardwick, then through the ten years it had taken to build the new house, and then at Oldcotes, and he remained in her employ now, with a quarterly wage and the free lease of a farm. She noted his fingers, their knuckles rough and swollen, and the size of his hands, grown with the decades of hard work.

  “Thank you for coming, Rob. I know it’s late.”

  He smiled and gave a small shrug. “There is yet light to see by, your ladyship.”

  She smiled in return. “So there is.”

  She w
ent to her writing desk and lifted the lid from the wooden box that sat atop a stack of papers. Suddenly she felt a little shy about the reason she had asked him to come. Shy? That was not an emotion that had visited her in decades. She met his eyes.

  “I have these few things that I wish you to—to immure.”

  “Immure?” He tasted the word cautiously.

  “I would have you seal them within the wall.”

  She reached into the box and hesitated before she lifted out a small shoe, the once-bright crimson of its leather faded and dry. It was not exactly shyness, she realized now. It was that the shoe and the other objects nestled in the box were her, in some way, and that showing them would reveal more of herself than she had done to any person in a long time. But she wanted to see these things once more before they were walled up, and she held the shoe aloft.

  “Ah, a witch deposit!” Understanding gleamed in Crossman’s brown eyes, a grin creasing his face. “I have you now, your ladyship.”

  “A witch deposit. I suppose you might call it that. Though I would not have you think that I give credence to sorcery and charms.”

  “As you wish, your ladyship. But there’s no shame in the old ways, and better safe than sorry.”

  Bess had a sudden recollection of old Joan, the searcher she had met so long ago in London, making the sign of the cross over the tiny bag of cloth tied tight with string, keeping a secret of its contents. That bundle lay within the box beside the other things she had gathered together. If it was not a charm, what was it?

  “You’re right. I suppose I do wish to guard this house against evil. But it’s more than that. It’s to leave something of myself within these walls.”

  She and Crossman both glanced around them. The cold gray stone of the chamber’s walls was mostly hidden by richly colored hangings, ceiling to floor, providing a layer of warmth against the bitter chill that settled into the very bones of the vast building and its glittering ice-cold windows, as it did into Bess’s own bones.

  “Your ladyship is here in every inch of this great house,” Crossman said, smiling. “In every one of its forty-six rooms.”