“Lady Lindley has been given her choice between the earl of Glenkirk and the marquis. She prefers the earl, for they have a past history, Mary. It is he who has custody of the little duke of Lundy. Piers St. Denis may woo Jasmine Lindley until the cows come home, but he will not win her hand, although he believes himself to be quite irresistible.”
“But if the king were to believe that the marquis will be offended by Lady Lindley’s choosing the earl, he might want to give him a consolation of sorts, and custody of this little duke would surely be a fine prize. However, you might convince His Majesty that by giving the lad to a third, and neutral, party, he would be less likely to offend anyone; and of course, the marquis would have to have something, perhaps Summerfield, which he has sought all along?”
The earl of Bartram thought for several long moments. His wife’s idea was a very clever one indeed. The boy, of course, would have an income of his own, which by rights would come to his guardian. Other than ordinary expenses, Richard Stokes thought, I could return the balance of his income into the king’s treasury, thereby offsetting the loss of Summerfield. In fact, the sum coming from the duke of Lundy would probably be far greater than that which came from Summerfield. And if the boy were raised in my house, the earl considered, I might influence the child toward the truer faith, and away from the Anglican Church. But that would come later, and he would have to be cautious in that endeavor.
“My dear,” he told his wife, “certainly God has spoken through you this day, and while Lady Lindley may object to the loss of her child, I shall point out to the king her unsuitability as a guardian for his grandson. Her previously unchaste life as Prince Henry’s mistress, and her mixed blood, not to mention her own bastard birth, are more than enough to render her unfit despite her wealth and her powerful connections. The king can be made to see reason, I am sure. First, however, I must reassure him that I have put a stop to your ignorance and beg forgiveness for your misbehavior. Then, when Lady Lindley has made her choice known publicly, I shall make my move to gain custody of the duke. It will be good to have a child in the house again, will it not, my dear? He will keep you very busy, I have not a doubt.” The earl chuckled. “I well remember Edward as a lad.”
“Then I am forgiven?” she asked him.
“Aye, you are forgiven, Mary,” he reassured her, his mind already moving ahead to consider the advantages guardianship of the royal bastard would bring him. He must continue, however, to remain in the background as he always had, for that was where his strength lay. In his discretion. He chuckled to himself, considering the obvious endeavor at revenge the marquis had attempted today. He hoped Summerfield would be enough to soothe the vain poppinjay when he lost the lady, her fortune, and the duke of Lundy. The earl of Bartram intended to see it was all he got, and, on Piers St. Denis’s death, the property would revert to the crown. Richard Stokes would make certain of that.
As he chortled softly to himself, his antagonist was also considering his next move. He had already put the earl of Bartram from his mind, for he had more important matters to attend to, and little time in which to pursue his interests. Jasmine was proving to be a recalcitrant conquest. While he had succeeded in removing James Leslie from her house, that was all he had managed to do. She took great delight in appearing with the earl of Glenkirk each day at court; and while she allowed him to court her publicly, privately she avoided him. He could make no headway with her at all, and it was beginning to drive him to rashness.
At first he had sought her for her wealth, her royal bastard, her influential relations. The more he was with her, however, the more he realized that he desired her. He had never known such lust as he felt for Jasmine Lindley. She intoxicated him with her lush form, the direct look she always gave him with those startling turquoise eyes, her creamy skin with its hint of palest gold. He dreamed of possessing her; and he would have her as no man ever had. His mind went to the hidden chamber he had in both his town house and his country home. He imagined her chained between the whipping posts, whimpering for mercy, as he thrashed her into submission. Would she respond best to the wide leather tawse, the thin bunch of birches, a whippy hazel switch, or his firm riding crop? Kipp, of course, would be there to help him, but he would not share Jasmine with his half brother. At least not until he tired of her if he ever did.
He considered that Jasmine, being a strong-minded woman, might also enjoy giving punishment as well as receiving it. If she did, he would teach her how to use the tawse and the rod. There was a definite art to it. One did not simply hack away at one’s victim. The art of domination should be done with a mixture of sternness and tenderness. There was, the marquis of Hartsfield had discovered, pleasure in pain, although he knew that not everyone saw it his way. There were those who considered such things taboo and wicked. He licked his lips in anticipation of his conquest, and of hers.
But now that she had gotten over the shock of being told she had another suitor, Jasmine found the situation extremely amusing, especially as Jemmie had been forced to move in with her Uncle Robin. She would not even allow him to sneak back through the adjoining gardens at night to share her bed. “Only if I may entertain Piers St. Denis in the same manner,” she teased the earl of Glenkirk.
But Glenkirk was not to be baited. “If you would like,” he told her mischievously. “It will be the last opportunity you have to take a lover, madame, for once we are married, I shall serve all your needs quite well, I promise you. You will have no need for another man in your life, except for our sons.” He took her hand in his, and turning the palm over raised it to his lips to kiss.
“Do not tempt me, Jemmie,” she murmured, withdrawing her hand.
“Are you tempted?” he demanded, feeling a slight sting of jealousy. Surely she wouldn’t! They had pledged themselves!
“Wellll,” Jasmine considered, “he is outrageously handsome. I cannot help being curious as to what lies behind the charm.”
“I have heard some rather unsavory rumors,” the earl of Glenkirk replied stiffly. “From former lovers of St. Denis.”
“Ohhhh? What kind of rumors?” Jasmine was fascinated.
“They are not the kind of things I want to repeat to you,” he told her. “Let us just say he is deviant in his passion, Jasmine.”
“Glenkirk,” she said laughing, “I am twice married, not some swooning virgin. Does he enjoy entering a woman’s portal of Sodom, or is he one of those pitiful creatures who must give pain in order to feel passion? Tell me this instant, or I shall ask him myself.”
“You would!” he accused, and he laughed all the more. “Oh, very well, you vixen, it is the latter. He likes to whip his lovers, and he shares them with that villainous half brother of his.”
“I thought him more self-assured than that,” Jasmine replied thoughtfully, her laughter stilled for the moment. “How sad that he cannot obtain pleasure except by giving pain.”
“Then you will continue to keep him at bay, madame,” the earl said. “Perhaps we should end this charade pretense and tell the king we intend to keep our wedding day as we planned in France.”
“Nay, not yet, Jemmie. The king must believe that I have given his marquis the benefit of the doubt, and that having done so, I prefer the choice he so wisely made for me two years ago. The queen is on our side and will manage the king nicely if I ask her, and so, I believe, is Villiers, although I think his attempt at friendship stems from the fact he considers my family connections useful to himself.”
“You are brutally honest in your assessment of Villiers,” the earl noted. “Have you no illusions left, darling Jasmine?”
She laughed again. “Few,” she told him, “but understand that I hold no grudge against George Villiers for his behavior. He but seeks to advance himself, and there is nothing wrong that really, is there, Jemmie? We all seek something from the people with whom we come in contact in our lives. Youth is filled with enthusiasm, and Villiers is just a trifle obvious. He is not, however, as ingenuous as he
would like everyone to believe. There is a calculating intelligence in those soulful dark eyes of his that he is not always able to conceal.”
Now it was Glenkirk’s turn to laugh. “You speak as if you were an ancient crone, yet Villiers is little younger than you,” he teased her. “He would, I think, be most distressed to learn you have seen through the carefully constructed facade he has erected and that even the king has not pierced.”
“We shall not tell him then,” Jasmine said.
“And the marquis of Hartsfield?” he persisted.
“What about him?” Her look was deceptively docile.
“You have not promised me you will keep him at bay,” James Leslie reminded her.
“Nay, I have not,” Jasmine told him, “and I will not. I am not your wife yet, Jemmie, and even when I am, I am quite competent to guide my own behavior, my lord, without your aid.”
“No wonder your grandmother drove men to distraction,” he grumbled at her. “You are obviously just like her.”
“Am I?” she drawled at him. “Well, if I am, you had best beware, my Lord of Glenkirk. Madame Skye has outlived all of her husbands, and her lovers, and is still going strong!”
He wanted to laugh at her, but instead her words gave him pause. His mother had been such a woman as Jasmine and Madame Skye. He was used to independent women, but James Leslie did not know if he approved of them. Still, his Isabella had been a meek wife, and while he had been fond of her, she had never excited him or intrigued him as Jasmine did. While his intended bride might be determined to chart her own path through life, the earl of Glenkirk knew that she would never embarrass him or set herself against him to bring dishonor upon his family’s name. She would never take the marquis as a lover although she might toy with him out of curiosity, and for her own amusement. And he would have to let her lest he risk losing her forever. “Be careful, darling Jasmine,” he said softly to her.
She turned a dazzling smile upon him. “I will,” she responded. Then she took pity upon him. “St. Denis is like a beautiful snake,” she explained. “I am fascinated, but I am not foolish, Jemmie.”
“He is quite determined to have you,” the earl said.
“Then he is the fool,” she replied. “The king has plainly said the decision is mine, and I made that decision in France.” She leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers. “Go home, my lord. It is late, and I would seek my bed. Besides, poor Kipp St. Denis has been watching the house for hours now, and I am certain is quite exhausted. He will not leave until he is certain you are ensconced at Uncle Robin’s for the night. He is a loyal dog to his brother.”
“St. Denis is having you watched?” Glenkirk was astounded.
“He is very jealous,” she chuckled, escorting him to the garden door. “Now kiss me, and let us give him something to report to his brother this night, Jemmie, my love.” She slid her arms about him.
“Where is he?” the earl demanded.
“In the shadow of the wall that separates Greenwood from Lynmouth House,” she told him. “No! Do not look! As long as he believes himself concealed, I know just where to find him. If you look, he will know we know where he is and will seek another hiding place I may not so easily discover.” She gazed up at him seductively. “Don’t you want to kiss me, Glenkirk? St. Denis would kill to kiss me,” she taunted him.
Teasingly he nibbled at her lips. “You are ripe for bedding, madame,” he murmured against her mouth. Then he kissed her a hard, swift kiss before turning on his heel without another word and leaving her.
Her hand went to her mouth. It felt bruised with his fierce kiss. She watched him depart, moving quickly down the lawn, and across the garden, and through the almost concealed door in the ivy. She remained for a moment after he was gone, her legs jelly, a growing ache in her nether regions. Since he had moved to her uncle’s they had not made love even once. She realized now that she missed their shared passion just as much as he missed it. Damn the king! Damn Piers St. Denis! Damn everyone who stood in their way! It was over a month until their wedding day. Unless they could find a stolen moment before then, they would have to wait to be together once again. She didn’t know if she could bear it. She had grown used to James Leslie in her bed.
Piers St. Denis, however, had grown quite annoyed with Jasmine’s refusal to give serious consideration to his suit. He could never get her alone. Glenkirk was always with her but when she slept. Shortly she would announce her preference, and he knew it would be James Leslie, unless, of course, he could change her mind, but how could he when he was never alone with her? He complained to the king.
“I have not a chance with her with Glenkirk skulking about all the time,” the marquis of Hartsfield said, his tone petulant. They were in the royal apartments.
“Gracious, St. Denis,” taunted George Villiers, “do not say you are a laggard in love. I should not have thought it of you.” His dark eyes danced mischievously. “The rumors are certainly otherwise,” he finished with a grin.
Piers St. Denis threw the younger man a venomous look. “Your Majesty, I cannot court Lady Lindley if I must share her every waking minute with the earl of Glenkirk.”
“My husband has said the choice is Jasmine’s,” the queen said, not even bothering to look up from her embroidery frame.
“But how, madame, can she make her choice if she does not know me?” the marquis of Hartsfield almost shouted, frustrated.
“Perhaps,” the queen said giving him a mild stare, “she already has made her choice, my lord.”
“Sire! You promised me a chance with Lady Lindley,” Piers St. Denis almost whined. “You must do something!”
“I’ll send Jemmie to Edinburgh,” the king answered.
“James!” The queen’s tone was pure irritation. She had only earlier spoken most severely to him about his foolishness in attempting to meddle in Jasmine’s life again. Would he never learn?
“Now, Annie,” the king said, “our Piers is justified in his complaints. Jemmie will nae let him near the lass. Let him go up to Edinburgh to begin the arrangements for our visit there sometime in the future, perhaps next year or the year after. When he returns Lady Lindley will be allowed to make her choice. ’Tis only fair.”
“She will not change her mind, Jamie,” the queen said, annoyed with her husband’s overindulgence of the marquis. “All you will do is outrage Glenkirk and possibly provoke Jasmine to some new rashness.”
“I will speak wi them myself,” the king said. “Our Piers must hae his fair chance wi the lady, Annie.”
“Thank you, Your Highness!” the marquis said, kissing the king’s hand with gratitude.
The king caught the hand in his and smiled at the young man. Then he ruffled Piers St. Denis’s honey-colored hair. “Yer a braw laddie, Piers. How can she nae fall in love wi ye?”
“Well, it had best be settled now,” the queen said briskly. “Steenie, go and fetch Lady Lindley and Lord Leslie to us, will you?” She caught Villiers’s eye, and total understanding passed between them in that single moment. The queen liked George Villiers, and far preferred him as her husband’s favorite to the marquis of Hartsfield, whom she hoped eventually to remove from the picture entirely.
George Villiers leapt up. “At once, Your Majesty,” he said with an elegant bow, and was out the door before the king or St. Denis might protest on one pretext or another.
“There now,” the queen said with a sweet smile. “Now, my dear St. Denis, you will be able to begin your courting more quickly.”
George Villiers dashed through the palace, seeking either Jasmine, or James Leslie, not doubting that when he found one, he would find the other. Finally a young page mentioned he had seen the earl and his lady playing cards at some tables that had been set up in one of Whitehall’s interconnecting galleries, with their stone and gold ceilings and wainscots of carved wood representing beautiful figures. Windows lined either side of these galleries, giving the impression that one was out-of-doors.
; “ ’Tis the one overlooking the lawn and the river,” the child called after George Villiers.
“What now?” Jasmine grumbled, slamming down what she was certain was a winning hand when Villiers found them.
“I’ll tell you as we go along,” Villiers answered them, ushering the pair from the gaming table and back along the corridors to the royal apartments, and he did.
“God’s boots!” swore Glenkirk. “James did something similar years ago to my father. Sent him off when he wanted to create a bit of mischief.” He went no farther than that, for he did not want George Villiers privy to his family’s history. There were very few people left alive who knew that the earl’s mother had once been James Stuart’s secret passion.
“I will go home to Queen’s Malvern,” Jasmine said immediately.
“Nay, madame, you will not,” the earl said. “You must remain and, even as you yourself have said, allow the king to believe you have seriously considered the marquis of Hartsfield as a suitor.”
“If I can be of any help, Lady Lindley,” Villiers said, “you have but to ask me. I have not just the king’s favor, but the queen’s as well,” he told them proudly. “She gave him quite a scolding when he came up with this scheme to offer you a choice of husbands. I think she fears you will disappear again, taking young Charles Frederick Stuart with you, and that she will never see her grandson again.”
Jasmine stopped dead in her tracks. “Sir,” she said quietly, “I have twice run from my country—to save myself the first time and my children the second time. I will not be forced to flee ever again. England is my home, and it is my children’s home. I will not allow anyone to take their birthright from them. You are quite free to repeat my words, if you so choose.” Then she continued onward.
He ran to catch up with her. “Madame,” he said in breathless tones, “I consider your words a confidence. I will not repeat them.”
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