Bedazzled

by Bertrice Small

  “I’ll be earl of Oxton one day, Johnny,” Viscount Twyford replied, “and what a countess she would make! India? ’Tis an odd name.

  “The duchess of Glenkirk, the girl’s mother, is from that land, I am told, although her mother is English or Scots, I’m not sure which. I do know they are a wealthy family, and somehow distantly related to the king’s family. Lady Lindley’s half-brother, the duke of Lundy, is also the king’s nephew. Wrong side of the blanket, of course, but you know these Stuarts, Adrian.”

  “The women are obviously hot-blooded,” Viscount Twyford noted, his blue eyes fixed on India.

  “Be careful, Adrian,” his friend teased. “If your mama should find out you have an interest in such a suitable girl she will be quite piqued. I know how she dotes on you. It is said she will never give you over into the care of another woman.”

  “My mother would do well to remain at Oxton Hall, looking after my father. He has not been well in recent years,” Twyford said sourly.

  “She’s still a handsome woman,” Lord Summers remarked.

  “She concentrates on remaining so,” the viscount replied. “It is her sole interest. That, and certain men. She will not prevent me from marrying, Johnny, when I find the right girl, and I believe I have. It is my duty to have an heir. I know it would please my father.” He fixed his eyes on his companion. “I must be introduced to Lady India Lindley, Johnny. Do you know any of the family?”

  “I have an acquaintance with her brother, Henry Lindley, the marquis of Westleigh. My little estate borders his holdings at Cadby. If he is here, I suppose I might presume upon him. He has a good nature.” Lord Summers swept the Great Hall with his mild gaze. “Ahh, there he is! With his stepfather, the duke. Come along, Adrian. This is as good a chance as we’ll get, I think.”

  The two men made their way across the large chamber which was filled to overflowing with the court. The marriage contract having been read, the king had gone into a nearby chamber to dine, and the queen had retired to her apartments. This left the courtiers to mill about, visiting and gossiping with and about each other.

  When they had reached the area where the duke of Glenkirk stood speaking with his stepson, Lord Summers stopped, and waited to catch Henry Lindley’s eye, saying when he did, “I came to pay my respects, my lord, and to introduce you to my friend, Viscount Twyford, who, having seen your sister, Lady India, tells me he will perish if you do not introduce them.” Lord Summers grinned in friendly fashion at the marquis of Westleigh, who was three years his junior.

  “Introduce me to these gentlemen, Henry,” the duke of Glenkirk said. He took in the measure of the two young men before them.

  “Lord John Summers, Father. His estate borders mine. We have sometimes hunted together when I have been at Cadby,”Henry Lindley said. “And this is his friend, Viscount Twyford.”

  “Do you have a name, young man?” the duke of Glenkirk demanded.

  “Adrian Leigh, sir. I am the earl of Oxton’s son, and heir.” He bowed to James Leslie and the young marquis.

  “And you wish to meet my stepdaughter, sir? To what purpose?” the duke inquired fiercely.

  A tinkle of laughter greeted his words as the duchess of Glenkirk, overhearing, turned and took her husband’s arm. “Do not be such a ninny, Jemmie. Viscount Twyford would appear to me to be a fairly respectable young man, and India is a beautiful young girl. To what purpose indeed.” She laughed again, then said, “Henry, take both these gentlemen and introduce them to India.” Then she lightly touched Adrian Leigh’s arm. “You are respectable, sir, are you not?”

  “Aye, madame, I am,” he said boyishly.

  “Then go along with my son, my lord,” Jasmine instructed him.

  The trio hurried across the hall again, this time headed for India, who stood with another young girl chattering. She smiled at her brother’s approach, holding out her hand to him.

  “Henry.” She quickly looked at her brother’s two companions, and then directly at her brother.

  “Mama says I may introduce these gentlemen to you, India.”

  “But I recognize Lord Summers,” India said, smiling prettily at him. “You hunt with Henry at Cadby, don’t you?”

  “I did not know you had seen me, mistress, as we have never been formally introduced until now,” Lord Summers said, bowing to India.

  “How could I fail to notice so handsome a gentleman,” India said coquettishly, tossing her head just slightly.

  “God’s blood!” the girl next to her swore.,

  “Fortune!” India looked scandalized. “She is my younger sister, and has never been out in society before,” India excused her sibling. “She will never, I fear, behave properly.”

  “Is flirting outrageously with a man you’ve just met proper?” Fortune demanded.

  India flushed. “I am not flirting! I was being polite.”

  Fortune snorted.

  Henry Lindley laughed. “Sisters,” he said, effectively dismissing them both as silly creatures. “India, if you are quite through being indignant I will introduce you to Viscount Twyford, who for some reason has insisted upon making your acquaintance. The word beautiful did pass his lips when he spoke of you.”

  India Lindley turned her golden eyes upon Adrian Leigh. She held out her hand. “How do you do, my lord,” she murmured.

  “Much better now that we have met, my lady,” he returned, taking her slender, elegant little hand and kissing it.

  Fortune rolled her eyes comically. “Henry, I am suddenly nauseous. Will you escort me away from this sickening sweetness?”

  India did not hear her. She had the presence of mind to withdraw her hand from Viscount Twyford’s grasp, but she was already intrigued by him.

  “Zut alors, India! Un Anglais avec charme,” a voice declared, and an outrageously beautifully dressed young man turned from the throng. Taking up India’s hand, so recently released by Viscount Twyford, he kissed it gallantly. “Bonjour, ma belle cousine.”

  “René! Oh, René, you have grown up, haven’t you?” India’s gaze swept over the handsome Frenchman. He was quite gorgeous.

  “Oui, chérie, je suis un homme.”

  “Speak English, René! You are in England now, and not France,” India scolded him. “And you do speak better English than most English speak French, Cousin. How good it is to see you again!” She turned again to Lord Summers and Viscount Twyford. “This is the chevalier St. Justine, my cousin. René, Lord John Summers, and Adrian Leigh, Viscount Twyford. René, I didn’t know you were coming with the queen from France. I didn’t see you in Paris,” Jasmine said. “Why are you here?”

  “One of Her Majesty’s gentlemen of honor fell ill at the last moment, and as I had just come up from Archambault to Paris on estate business, and stopped at the Louvre to pay my respects to King Louis, it seems I was in the right spot at the right time. It’s quite an accolade for the family that I was chosen, chérie.”

  “And just how are you related?” the viscount asked, not simply curious, but strangely jealous. She called him cousin, but exactly how close were they? The froggie was perhaps too handsome, too suave.

  Lord Summers, the chevalier, and young Henry Lindley all recognized the suspicion in Adrian Leigh’s tone. It was an incredible presumption on his part to voice such an inquiry, but India seemed totally unaware.

  “René’s great-grandmother and my great-grandfather were brother and sister,” she answered the viscount. “I spent part of my childhood in France. René and I were playmates. René! Do you recognize Henry all grown up. And there is Fortune over there with Mama.”

  The chevalier bowed to the marquis. “My lord, it is good to see you again as well. Now, however, I shall go and pay my respects to your parents, and Lady Fortune, eh?”

  “I’ll come with you,” India said, tucking her hand through his arm. “Mama will be so surprised, René. Henry . . .” She called to her brother. “You come, too.” Then, smiling at the other two gentlemen, she moved off across the
Great Hall with her escorts.

  “You have an admirer, ma petite,” René St. Justine noted mischievously as they walked.

  “A bit bold for my taste,” Henry Lindley replied. “There is something I have heard about the family that is not savory, but I cannot think what it is right now.”

  “I do hope you are not going to be one of those overly protective brothers, Henry,” India said sharply. “Remember that I am older than you are. I thought Viscount Twyford rather charming, and he is handsome.”

  “You are ten months older than I am, India,” her brother reminded her. “ ’Tis hardly a generation. The earl of Oxton! Yes! Now I remember! The earl’s eldest son was implicated in the murder of a rival in love, and fled England. He disappeared, and has never been heard of again. The earl fell into a deep decline, and has not appeared publicly since it happened. Your swain is his younger half-brother, India, son of the second wife, who is said to take her lovers from among her servants and tenants. Charming, indeed! I’m surprised a fellow as decent as Summers would associate with such a man. I hardly think Viscount Twyford suitable for you, Sister.”

  “You cannot blame the viscount for the behavior of either his elder half-brother or his mother, Henry. How unfair of you!” India cried. “I like him, and if he wishes to pay me his addresses, I shall welcome them. Say anything to Father about his unfortunate relations, and Father will know about that little housemaid at Greenwood you have been fucking in dark hallways. Didn’t think I knew, did you?”

  “God’s blood!” her brother swore. “How did you know?”

  “Are all men that noisy when they fuck?” India wondered aloud.

  The chevalier burst out laughing. “India, you have not changed, little cousin. I am so glad!” Then he paused a moment and said, “But Henry is correct in one sense, chérie. A man is rarely unlike his family in his behavior. Besides, you can do better than a mere viscount. You are the daughter of a marquis, the stepdaughter of a duke. You have a marquis for a brother and a duke for a brother, and that little duke is the king’s own nephew. Aye, chérie, you can do much better than a provincial little viscount.”

  “I shall do as I please,” India answered him, and he laughed once more. “I am not just well connected, but rich as well, René, and when you are rich, you can do as you please,” she told him.

  “Within the law,” her brother reminded her disapprovingly.

  While the queen struggled to find her way within this new court she had been married into, and her French household and the English court jockeyed for dominance, the younger, less important members of her train, led by the chevalier St. Justine, and the younger English courtiers became friendly. None of them cared for power. They simply wanted to have fun. It was summer. The weather was pleasant, and new to court, most of them found it exciting. Filled with youthful exuberance, they involved themselves in hunting and picnics, boating, tennis, and archery contests from dawn till dusk. Then they danced the night away, or took part in little masques. Often the young queen joined them, for like her late mother-in-law, Anne of Denmark, she loved such merriment. The king, however, who had enjoyed his mother’s revels in his youth, was now weighed down by his office, and not often amused.

  “I want to go to Queen’s Malvern,” Lady Fortune Lindley complained to her mother one warm and muggy morning. “Why must we remain here with the court? We have never followed the court. Soon summer will be at an end, and we shall be returning to Glenkirk, Mama.”

  “Your sister has entered society, and if we are ever to find her a husband, Fortune, we must remain with the court. Right now, all the eligible young men are here,” Jasmine explained to her middle daughter.

  “If India wants to remain here, fine!” Fortune said, “but can’t the rest of us go up to Queen’s Malvern? It isn’t just me. We all want to go, isn’t that so, Henry?”

  “I should be at Cadby,” her brother agreed, nodding.

  Jasmine looked to her children. “Charlie?” she said.

  “I have paid my respects to my uncle, Mama, and been presented to the queen,” Charles Frederick Stuart, the duke of Lundy replied. “It is not necessary for me to show myself at court again until the coronation, which my uncle, the king, says will be next winter.”

  The duchess of Glenkirk peered questioningly at her three Leslie sons.

  “We would rather be in the country, Mama,” said Patrick, speaking for himself and his two younger brothers, Adam and Duncan.

  “I suppose that we could send the seven of you to Queen’s Malvern,” Jasmine said thoughtfully, “and your father and I could remain here to chaperone India, but you would have to behave yourselves if I did,” she warned them.

  “Adali is at Queen’s Malvern, Mama,” Fortune reminded her parent. “You know Adali would not let us run wild. If anything, he is sterner with us than you and Papa.”

  “Well,” Jasmine considered, nibbling on her lower lip.

  “And I will help him oversee the boys,” Fortune pressed gently.

  “And I will be at Cadby, Mama,” Henry reminded her. “It would just be our younger brothers and the baby for Adali to monitor. Fortune will spend her days riding, and she cannot get into trouble just riding.”

  “I see no reason for your father to object,” Jasmine decided. “Very well, you may all go up to Queen’s Malvern.”

  “Yaaaaay!” her offspring cheered.

  “When?” Fortune pressed.

  “Tomorrow, if you can pack yourselves up by then,” her mother replied, and Fortune’s siblings cheered lustily once again.

  “What is this all about?” India demanded to know, coming into the family hall where they were all seated. She was dressed for riding in a deep blue velvet skirt, and a jacket trimmed in silver.

  “We are going to Queen’s Malvern . . .” Fortune began.

  India shrieked. “Nay! We cannot! I do not want to go up to the country. It is boring, and then before we know it we shall have to return to Scotland. Ohhh! I shall never see Adrian again!” She turned on her sister. “This is all your doing, Fortune! You are simply jealous because the gentlemen are attracted to me, and not attracted to you and your carroty hair! Ohhh! I hate you! I shall never forgive you! I shall die if I cannot remain with the court!” She flung herself into a chair.

  “If you ask me, she should be sent home to Glenkirk right now,” muttered Henry Lindley, darkly.

  “You are not going to Queen’s Malvern, India,” her mother said. “I intended to let you remain here with your father and me, but now I wonder if Henry isn’t perhaps right. Apologize to your sister this moment! And I was not aware that Viscount Twyford had caught your fancy. He is not at all suitable for a girl of your breeding and wealth.”

  Henry Lindley quickly shook his head at India, denying any betrayal of her secrets.

  “But I like Adrian, Mama. He is charming, and he is very amusing. And he likes me,” India finished smugly.

  “Has he said so?” Jasmine asked her daughter.

  “Gracious, no!” India replied. “But René says it is so.”

  “Fortune is awaiting your apology,” Jasmine said quietly.

  India quickly hugged her sister. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You know I didn’t mean it, Fortune.”

  “If this is what an interest in men does to a person,” Fortune answered, “I hope I shall never seek to attract a gentleman’s attention.” Then, picking up her skirts, she hurried from the hall, saying as she went, “I have to pack if we are to be ready by the morrow. Come, laddies!”

  Her brothers scrambled to their feet and dashed after Fortune.

  “Why don’t you and Papa go with them?” India said innocently.

  Jasmine laughed. “Because you must have a chaperone.”

  “But I’m seventeen!” India protested.

  “Just,” her mother reminded her.

  “In Grandmother Velvet’s day girls younger than I came to court,” India grumbled. “I don’t understand why I can’t stay alone.”

/>   “In your grandmother’s day, the girls at court your age were either maids-of-honor serving old Queen Bess, married, or in the charge of a parent or older relative, and, like you, seeking husbands of good name, good repute, and suitable fortunes. This is not, however, your grandmother’s day. A young woman of good family is properly supervised by her family lest society receive the incorrect impression that she is either not valued, or that her behavior is loose.”

  “You are sooo old-fashioned,” India muttered.

  “If I am,” her mother replied serenely, “I shall remain so, and until you have left my home for your husband’s home, you will obey me. You will also not give me cause to regret that I have allowed you to remain with the court when I should far prefer to go home to Queen’s Malvern myself with your sister and brothers. I am quite capable of changing my mind, India. Now, tell me about Viscount Twyford. Does he seek to pay his addresses to you? He really is not suitable, you know.”

  “Why not?” India was curious as to what her mother had heard.

  “His father’s family is a respectable one,” Jasmine said. “They are Glocestershire people. I am sure you know about his brother, Deverall. It was quite a scandal, and such things do not die.”

  “Deverall Leigh murdered a rival,” India said.

  “So it was said, and the fact that he fled England did nothing to erase that impression. Many, however, did not believe it. Deverall Leigh was an honorable young man, but still it was his knife found in the victim’s chest, and he ran away. A convenience for his stepmother, and her son, Adrian. No one saw or heard the murder of Lord Jeffers. His serving man was away that night, and there was no one else in the house. And, of course, there was the knife. Deverall Leigh can never return to England without facing the hangman’s rope, for there is no one to attest to his innocence, if indeed he is innocent. I had heard that his father had disowned him. What choice did the poor man have? So your friend, Adrian, will one day be the earl of Oxton, and sooner than later if the rumors are to be believed,” Jasmine finished.