Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

R obert Carr, Viscount Rochester and earl of Somerset, was losing the king's favor, and he knew it. He was a desperate man. He had begun his career at court as a page. By twenty he was a groom of the bedchamber, having caught King James's eye when he broke his arm jousting. The following year the king gave the young man a tablet of solid gold set with diamonds. Three years later he was made a viscount. When his eye fell upon Frances Howard, the married countess of Essex, nothing would do but that he have her for his own wife.

Frances Howard had, at the age of fourteen, been literally forced to the altar by her family. She and Robert Devereaux, the earl of Essex, detested each other. She had dallied with Prince Henry before he had met Jasmine. Then she and Carr had fallen in love. There would be no divorce, however. Frances Howard demanded an annulment from her husband, claiming that he was impotent, not just with her, but with all women. It was a lie, of course, but the king and the archbishop looked the other way. The annulment was granted, and Frances married Robert Carr, who by this time had been created the earl of Somerset. She was sixteen, and he was twenty-six.

One of Robert Carr's friends, Sir Thomas Overbury, had objected quite vocally to the match between Frances Howard and her intended. He had spoken out publicly, slandering the lady, whom he very much disliked, and had even appealed to the king to save Carr from Frances Howard. His efforts were useless, and shortly after the happy couple were united in marriage, Sir Thomas Overbury found himself arrested and imprisoned in the Tower of London. There he remained for the next few months cooling his heels until one morning his jailers found him dead in his cell. He had been poisoned.

An investigation was called for by the shocked king, and it was quite thorough. It was determined that Sir Thomas Overbury had ingested poisoned sweetmeats. It had taken some time to learn who had sent the deadly treats, but now the rumors were rife that they had come from the earl of Somerset's household. It could not be ascertained if either the earl of Somerset, or his countess, had ordered the sweetmeats supplied to Sir Thomas—the box had been given to a street urchin outside the Tower for delivery to Overbury, according to the yeoman of the guard who had received the gilt paper box. It was indeed quite possible that the messenger had himself been disposed of to avoid being found and used to identify the miscreant. But the gilt paper box was one that Frances Howard was known to favor when presenting gifts to friends. Indeed, its maker declared that he made the boxes only for her ladyship and no one else. And while it was indeed possible that someone had stolen one of the boxes, it was not thought probable. Still, neither the earl nor his countess had yet been charged in the matter because neither could be tied absolutely to the crime.

But Robert Carr was well aware he was losing James Stuart's favor. Since the Overbury scandal had broken, the king called upon him less, pointedly ignoring his old favorite. The royal and rheumy amber eyes were filled with interest when either of two young men came into his view these days. George Villiers, an unimportant little country nobody, was obviously fast gaining favor with his royal master. How this bumpkin had gained the sought-after position of royal cupbearer only last year was a mystery to Carr. Now he was appointed a gentleman of the bedchamber. Oh, he was handsome enough with his sparkling dark eyes and wavy chestnut hair, but Carr didn't trust the damned upstart.

And even worse was Piers St.Denis, the marquis of Hartsfield. With his ancient title he didn't appear to need the king's favor, and yet he was gaining it every bit as quickly as Villiers. St.Denis had great charm and amused the king more than any man in the court's memory. Where George Villiers had the face of an archangel, it was said; Piers St.Denis was spectacularly handsome, with perfect features. His nose was just the right length and as straight as a die. His blue eyes were evenly spaced. His mouth was big and narrow, and he had a single lock of honey-colored hair that insisted in falling into a single small curl upon his high forehead.

With both of these men intriguing and amusing the king, what chance was there for Robert Carr to regain his master's royal favor? Frances was not happy about the latest turn of events. She had expected that her husband would always have the royal favor. She had, after all, been born a Howard. Two of her cousins had been queens of England. Unsuccessful queens, to be sure, but they had been queens.

"How could you have been so stupid as to use one of my boxes?" she demanded of her spouse one night as they sat ensconced in their bed, the velvet curtains drawn to give them privacy. "Now the damned thing has been traced to us. What are we to do, Rob?"

"They cannot prove anything," he said. "Unless, of course, your hysteria gives us away, Frances. The box could have been stolen from your supply or from the boxmaker's shop. No one can prove anything."

"What of the damned boy?" she demanded.

"I told you I strangled him when he returned for his coin. I threw his body in the river. He was just some nameless urchin, of no import to anyone. He was not missed, and if by chance he was, then it would be thought he fell victim to foul play as so many of these street brats do, or, perhaps, ran away to find his fortune. There is no one to trace those sweetmeats to us. We were careful, and we were clever. You made the treats, and I saw to their delivery. No one can trace them to us, Frances. Now cease your fretting," the earl of Somerset told his worried wife. "The matter of the box is just conjecture."

"The queen has barred me from her presence," Frances told him. "I am forbidden the royal apartments! Me! Frances Howard! I knew those apartments long before Queen Anne even came to England! It matters not, Rob, if they can prove we killed Overbury. They know we did! We are ruined, I tell you! Ruined!"

"It is but a temporary setback, Frances," he replied. "The king cannot do without me. Jamie Stuart is my friend."

"Why did you have to have Overbury sent to the Tower, Rob? God's blood, it was so public! Did I not say have the king appoint him to some minor position in Ireland, and then have him murdered there? We could have blamed it on the Irish! Now we will be blamed. I am surprised we haven't been arrested yet! ‘Tis we who will end up in the Tower, Rob, and all because you would not listen to your wife!"

"The king loves me," Robert Carr said stubbornly.

"Loves you?" Frances, countess of Somerset, snorted with derision. "It is over, Rob. Over! He is besotted with both Villiers and St.Denis and concerned only with which one of them he desires more. You have broken the king's heart, Rob, and he will never forgive you. He will replace you, and he will forget you. And it need not have happened at all but that you would not listen to me!"

"Go to sleep, Frances, and cease your nagging," the earl snapped at his wife. "Tomorrow the earl of Glenkirk returns to court with the dowager marchioness of Westleigh. They are, I am told, to be married at last. I would not miss Jasmine Lindley's submission for anything!"

"Perhaps," his countess considered, "just perhaps such an occasion will divert the king, and he will forget about us."

"If he forgets about us," her husband said, "then we have lost his favor. Is that what you would like, Frances?"

"At least we would be alive," she retorted. "I don't want to end up on Tower Hill like my cousins, Anne and Catherine!"

"You worry too much," he laughed, but then the morning came and the earl found little to laugh at. When he and his wife arrived to join the day's activities, they were told to go home. They were not welcome at Whitehall any longer. They were to keep to their London house and await the king's decision as to their fate. Stunned, they retired, not even noticing the earl of Glenkirk's carriage as they passed it by in the road. Several days later the earl and countess of Somerset were arrested and lodged in the Tower.

"Was that not Frances Howard and her new husband?" Jasmine wondered aloud, leaning out the coach's window to view the departing vehicle.

"I would be very much surprised if it were," he answered her. "Robin tells me he is quite out of favor with this Overbury thing. Then, too, the king is newly besotted of two young men come to court recently. I'm certain after today we shall know everything there is to know about the whole situation. I cannot believe that Carr was so stupid as to poison an enemy and get caught; but then I always thought him a fool."

"Do I look all right?" she asked him for the third time since they had left the house.

He nodded, grinning. "Aye," he said shortly.

She had, she told him, attempted to dress modestly as befitted a penitent, but there was no way Jasmine could appear really contrite. She was too beautiful. Too elegant. Too much the Mughal's daughter. Yet she had tried. Her gown was subdued, of burgundy silk, and had a bell skirt. The waist was narrow, the sleeves had small slashes and puffs with black silk showing through; the stomacher was long and pointed, and decorated with black jets sewn in a geometric pattern, and matching the design on the bodice, which had a low square neckline. About her neck was a long rope of perfect black pearls, and from a shorter rope about her throat hung a large round ruby known as the Eye of Kali, which Jasmine had brought with her from India years earlier. Pear-shaped rubies hung from her ears. Her hair was fixed in its elegant chignon, and on her feet she wore black silk shoes ornamented with pink pearls. Her fingers were decorated with several rings, a black pearl, a ruby, and a large baroque pink pearl. She would be the envy of all the women who viewed her today, and the desire of all the men, James Leslie thought.

He had dressed himself in black and white, as much to complement her outfit as to appear serious himself. One of them had to look properly remorseful and apologetic for all the difficulty they had caused the king and his good intentions. As they moved along the hallway toward the chamber where the king was receiving that day, James Leslie could hear the hissing whispers of the courtiers as they passed by. "Courage, darling Jasmine," he murmured to her, patting the elegant hand on his heavy silk sleeve. "We are simply today's divertissement."

The king and queen sat on their thrones. James Stuart had aged. He was now forty-nine. The queen, a handsome woman, but certainly never considered pretty, was forty. She appeared very much the same to Jasmine as when she had last seen her. Neither the queen nor her husband had a great deal in common but their love of hunting, and their children. They led fairly separate lives, but were, nonetheless, devoted to each other. What was good for James pleased Anne, and vice versa. They had not been lovers for some time now, but they were very good friends.

James Stuart gazed dispassionately upon the newly arrived couple at the foot of his throne. The earl of Glenkirk bowed with an elegant flourish. The dowager marchioness of Westleigh made a deep curtsy, her sleek dark head slightly lowered, not looking at either of the royal couple as she dipped, and then rose gracefully. The room had grown very silent as the court strained to hear what would be said.

"So, madame, ye hae finally returned," the king began. His look was surprisingly mild. "I hae met yer whelps. Ye've done well wi them, madame. All of them. Our wee grandson is a braw laddie for one so young. Spoke French to me, he did." James Stuart chuckled. "And told me he could teach me to swear in Hindi. Now where would he have learned Hindi, I wonder?" The king cocked his head to one side questioningly.

"Most likely from my steward, Adali," Jasmine said softly. "Adali likes to remind Charlie-boy that he is the grandson of two kings."

"Aye," James Stuart agreed. "Our wee duke of Lundy hae much royal blood in his veins, but he is English-born, madame. Ye will remember that, won't ye?"

"Yes, Your Highness, I will remember it. I could hardly forget it," Jasmine replied. "His father will remain in my heart always."

For a brief moment the king looked sad. "Aye," he told her. "In all of our hearts. England lost a great king, but perhaps if I can live long enough, our bairn, Charles, will make a good king."

"Oh, Your Highness," Jasmine told the king, "I am certain Prince Charles will be of great credit to you and the queen." Then to everyone's surprise, even Glenkirk's, Jasmine flung herself before the king in a gesture of abasement, her burgundy silk skirts spread artfully about her. "Your Majesty," she said in her clear voice, "I beg that you forgive me my disobedience. The only excuse I can offer to you is that my heart was broken over Prince Henry's death, and I was not ready to go into another marriage so quickly. I am but a frail woman, Your Highness, and I have suffered much in my short life. I am ready now to do my duty, and marry the earl of Glenkirk; and I vow never to disobey Your Highness again." Jasmine bent low so that her head touched the tip of the king's shoe, and there she remained, waiting for him to speak.

The king was astounded, but he was also pleased. The young woman before him understood his total authority even if she had bridled against it. He had been very angry when she had fled England two years ago. But then two weeks ago he had seen his grandson, and the child had softened his heart toward Jasmine de Marisco Lindley. And now here was the very miscreant he had intended to punish but a short month ago, publicly humbling herself before his throne. James Stuart was mightily pleased and filled to overflowing with the milk of forgiveness.

"Get up, lassie," he said good-naturedly. "Help her, Jemmie." And when Jasmine stood before him once again, he continued, "It was a pretty apology and astutely delivered. Yer forgiven, madame."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Jasmine replied simply, curtsying again.

"A woman, especially a beautiful woman such as yerself," the king said, "should hae a husband to guide her; but perhaps I was hasty when I chose for ye, madame. I realize now that I should hae given ye a choice of gentlemen from whom to choose a new lord and master. I shall gie it to ye now." James Stuart looked very pleased with himself.

Everyone else in the room looked astounded, including the queen herself. She glared furiously at her spouse, but he ignored her.

"Your Highness," Jasmine said quickly. "I am content to wed with Lord Leslie. We are old friends and have come to a complete understanding. Our wedding is planned for June 15 at my grandmother's home, Queen's Malvern."

"There will be nae wedding, madame, until ye hae made yer decision about a groom," the king said stubbornly.

"But I have!" Jasmine almost shouted.

"James!" the queen hissed at her husband.

He ignored her again, saying to Jasmine, "Yer a good lass, madame, and willing to do my bidding, I understand. Unlike many in this court, ye understand my divine right over my subjects. Two years ago I acted expeditiously, or so I thought, in my effort to protect both ye and my grandson. My rashness sent ye fleeing to France. While I know ye understand the reasons for my actions, I will now admit to having acted too swiftly in the matter. Therefore, I offer ye a choice of husbands, madame. Not only is the earl of Glenkirk a candidate for yer hand, but Piers St.Denis, the marquis of Hartsfield, will also present his suit to ye. I would offer ye my Steenie as well, but he tells me his heart is engaged elsewhere. So now, madame, ye hae two gentlemen from whom to make yer choice." He grinned at her, quite pleased with himself as if he had done something wonderful. "Ye'll find my Piers a delightful lad, and quite near yer own age, which Glenkirk is nae."

"Your Highness," Jasmine began, but the king waved her into silence, and the warning pressure of Jemmie's hand on her arm cautioned her to be quiet and make no more protest.

"Piers, my dearest laddie, where are ye? Come and meet the dowager marchioness of Westleigh," the king burbled, his tone almost coquettish.

A tall, fair young man stepped from the crowd of courtiers about the throne. He was dressed all in blue, and Jasmine would have sworn that the silk exactly matched the color of his blazing blue eyes. He was probably the most beautiful man she had ever seen, yet she was instantly repelled in the same way that she had been repelled by cobras in India. They, too, were beautiful, but dangerous. The marquis of Hartsfield bowed low before the king. "Sire," he said. The voice was pleasant enough.

"Make yer bow to Lady Lindley, Piers," the king girlishly encouraged the young man. "If ye please her, she may choose ye for her mate."

Hartsfield obeyed the king, giving him a quick smile as he did so. Then he turned to salute Jasmine. "Madame," he said.

"Now take her off, and chat wi her, Piers," the king instructed. "Glenkirk, ye stay by the queen, and gie yer rival a chance now. Ye've been wi the lady for several months in France now. Let my Piers hae his opportunity. Dinna fret, Jemmie Leslie, if she chooses my Piers, I'll gie a nice heiress to compensate ye." He chortled, well pleased with himself.

Masking his anger, James Leslie went to the queen's side, and, taking her hand, kissed it. "I am happy to see you looking so well, ma'am," he told her with a forced smile.

"You do not have to smile, Glenkirk," the queen said. "Having gotten what he thought he wanted, Jamie is now making a right mess of the situation, isn't he? I knew nothing about this, I assure you, else I would have talked him out of it. He will indulge his young men. Young George Villiers, whom I far prefer over Piers St.Denis, has lost his heart to Lady Katherine Manners, the earl of Rutland's daughter. He isn't good enough for her yet, but Jamie will see to it that he gets a title soon enough. Fortunately Villiers was clever enough to make his desire for Lady Manners known to the king else he should find himself another of poor Jasmine's suitors in this marriage-go-round."

"I should have married her in France," Glenkirk said irritably. "It was my first inclination, but she wanted her family about her, and I wanted her to be happy, ma'am."

"Ahhhh," the queen replied softly, "you love her, don't you?"

"I do," he admitted.

"And does she love you?"

"Aye, she does," he answered her. "I am the most fortunate man alive, ma'am. You do not think the king will force her to marry this marquis of Hartsfield? I have heard …" Glenkirk stopped, not knowing if he should reveal his knowledge of the gossip to Queen Anne.

"You have heard that Piers St.Denis and George Villiers have found favor with my husband," she responded. "It is true. You know that James is deeply passionate in his friendships, my lord. I do not mind at all, for it is easier to cope with these charming young men than it would be to cope with a ma?tresse en titre. I was quite very relieved when your mother left Scotland. How is she these days?"

The earl of Glenkirk swallowed hard. So Queen Anne had known all along about her husband's youthful passion for his mother, yet she had said nothing. His respect suddenly grew for this woman, whom most considered silly and childish. "She is well, ma'am," he replied. "A widow, but content to remain in the kingdom of Naples. My younger brother and two sisters are there with her. She says she could not bear Scotland's climate after so many years in the warmth of Naples."

"How long has it been since you saw her?" the queen asked.

"I visited shortly after my wife and children were killed," he said quietly. "I needed her counsel then, but it has been many years since I beheld my mother's face."

"The Leslies of Glenkirk will be quite relieved that you are finally marrying again," the queen noted. "I assume you and Lady Lindley are already lovers. She is quite fecund, and you will undoubtedly have sons off her. Her children are delightful. Not simply fair of face and form, but bright and clever for such little creatures. Do they like you, James Leslie? It is important that you get on well with them."

"I believe we have already formed a comfortable attachment, ma'am," he replied. "They have taken to calling me Papa. Young Henry wants me to begin his lessons in swordsmanship this summer."

"That is to the good," the queen said approvingly. "You will be an excellent father to the young Lindleys and my grandson." She noticed that his eye was straying to Jasmine and the marquis of Hartsfield. "If she loves you, you need have no worry," Queen Anne told the earl of Glenkirk, but James Leslie could see Jasmine growing impatient, and his concern was not whether she could be suborned, but how soon it would be before she hit the marquis and caused a row.

Piers St.Denis had firmly eased Jasmine from before the king's throne, walking her across the room. "You are far more beautiful than I was led to believe," he said, "but then, of course, you know how beautiful you are. I know you have been told it many times, madame."

"Your compliment is accepted," she replied. "I am marrying the earl of Glenkirk on June 15. We love one another. I cannot imagine why the king, having insisted on this marriage, is now playing this coy game with us. I am furious!"

"The king seeks to please me," the marquis said, "especially now that the country bumpkin has dared to look above his station, and cast his net for the earl of Rutland's daughter. God's blood! Villiers doesn't even have a title. Rutland will hardly give his daughter to a backwater squire," Piers St.Denis sneered. "But, old king fool has promised his Steenie that he will make it all right, and the bumpkin bragged on it, so now the king must make it all right for me as well. Are you and Glenkirk lovers? You have the ripe and lush look of a woman who is very well loved. Ahh, you blush. How charming!"

"Why does the king call George Villiers Steenie?" Jasmine asked the marquis, ignoring his query by substituting one of her own.

"Have you met Villiers? Obviously not. Look over by the king's left hand. The young man with the face like an angel. Old king fool says he is reminded of St.Stephen when he looks at Villiers. Hence, Steenie, a diminutive of Stephen. It is sickening. Now, answer my question, beauty. Are you and Glenkirk lovers?"

"It is not your business," Jasmine replied tersely.

His fingers tightened upon her arm. "If you are to be my wife," he told her, "I need to know everything about you, my beauty."

"I am not going to be your wife," she said angrily. "Release my arm. You are bruising me, you brute!"

"Ahh, so you are lovers. Well, it matters not. You weren't a virgin anyway. Not with four children, and one of them a royal bastard," St.Denis said. "You are a passionate little bitch, aren't you, my beauty?"

"Let go of my arm," Jasmine replied. "If you do not, I shall scream, and cause a lovely scandal, placing you at center stage, my lord!"

He released her arm, laughing. "I do believe that you would," he told her. "When we are married I shall beat you if you misbehave."

Jasmine looked absolutely outraged. "A man who would raise his hand to a woman is no real man at all," she said. "Now, go find yourself some silly little heiress to wed. I am pledged to Lord Leslie." Then, turning on her heel, Jasmine hurriedly made her way across the room to where James Leslie stood by the queen. She curtsied low to Anne. "I am happy to see you again, ma'am," she said.

"You do not like the marquis of Hartsfield," the queen said bluntly.

"No, ma'am, I do not," Jasmine replied with equal frankness.

"Neither do I," Queen Anne answered.

"Will the king force me?" Jasmine asked.

Queen Anne shook her head in the negative. "Since Steenie has been promised that eventually he shall have Rutland's heiress, Jamie feels he must give St.Denis a bride of equal value. This is really your own fault, my dear. If you had married Glenkirk when we expected you to marry him, you would not have been vulnerable now to St.Denis; but Jamie has a good heart, as you well know. He will not force you. He does mean the choice to be yours, but he will try to get you to approve his beautiful marquis in order to please St.Denis. I did not know he was going to meddle in this affair, or I should have convinced him otherwise. After all, our meddling after dear Henry's death, may God assoil his sweet soul, caused you to run away in the first place. I don't want you to run away with our little Charlie-boy again." She patted Jasmine's hand with her slender fingers. "It will be all right, my dear. I am certain of it. But you must not run off, and I shall charge you, Jemmie Leslie, with the responsibility for Lady Lindley."

Across the room the marquis of Hartsfield watched the exchange. He could not hear what was being said, but he would wager his name had come up in the intense discussion between the queen, and the beauty. "What do you think of her, Kipp?" he asked the man by his side.

"She'll want serious taming," his companion said, "but I imagine that you'll enjoy that, Piers," and he laughed.

Kipp St.Denis was the marquis's bastard half brother. The two men had been raised together; the bastard being taught complete and total obedience to his father's only legitimate heir. Kipp's mother had been the personal maid of the young marchioness of Hartsfield. Her mistress's betrothed husband had raped her a week before the wedding. She had been a virgin. After the wedding night, the previous marquis had insisted upon having the two women in his bed each night. He was a violent, amoral man. His bride, an orphan whose dowry consisted of the acreage adjoining his estates, loved her husband and was willing to do what he wanted. The estate was isolated, and there was no one to gossip but the servants, and they rarely did for fear of their master.

The half brothers had been born an hour apart, in the same bed, as the two women labored side by side. Had Kipp been the legitimate son, it was he who would have been the heir, as his was the first birth. Piers had joined him in the same cradle in the next hour, and they had been rarely separated since. Kipp was his mother's image while Piers was his father all over again. Both men, however, resembled their father in temperament. Despite the difference in their stations, the half brothers were completely loyal to one another, and there was no trace of jealousy between them. Kipp went where Piers went, serving his brother as secretary, valet, and general confidant.

"Ahh, Kipp, this is no ordinary mare to be tamed, but a finely bred creature who will take special handling," the marquis said. "Did you notice her breasts as they overflowed her gown's neckline? Little creamy love cones that were just begging to be caressed."

"If you want to win her over, you'll have to get rid of the earl of Glenkirk, Piers," his half brother said. "As long as he is here, you will have not the slightest chance with her. I heard her when you had her by your side. She is completely determined to wed him. And, brother, he is living in her house on the Strand with her—probably sharing her bed and giving her a good fucking every night. We don't want her with child—his child—do we? Tell the king, and he will see to the rest, I promise you. Does not old king fool love his darling boy, Piers?" Kipp St.Denis laughed suggestively.

"You are right," the marquis agreed. "I don't want to lose this chance. Lady Lindley is fabulously wealthy in her own right, and of even greater importance, she had the king's only grandson. A bastard like yourself, Kipp, but a royal bastard. Until little baby Charles gets himself a wife out of Spain, or France, and has a child of his own, the little duke of Lundy will remain his grandpapa's darling. To have control of that laddie is to have real power, Kipp! Villiers can have his whey-faced little heiress. I will have both a fortune and power over the king!"

"Only if you can convince Lady Lindley to marry you. I already see you cannot bully her. She is, the gossip tells me, a king's daughter herself; and her relatives are influential with the king. Her stepfather is his cousin, the earl of BrocCairn. Her uncles are the earl of Lynmouth and Lord Burke of Clearfields. Her grandmother is the old countess of Lundy herself. Why she locked horns with Gloriana, Bess Tudor, brother, and has not only outlived that queen, but survived to tell the tale. Lady de Marisco dotes upon this particular granddaughter, Piers, and the family does what she tells them. If you threaten Lady Lindley, they will gather about her to protect her, then reach out to destroy you for your impudence. It is a very large family. There's an aunt married to the earl of Alcester, and another who is Lord Blackthorne's wife. Jasmine Lindley is extremely well connected. You will have to charm her into marrying you, and you are quite capable of such an act."

"I must have her!" Piers St.Denis said fiercely. "She excites me as no other woman ever has. Her wealth, her beauty, her royal bastard. But even without the brat, I would desire her, Kipp."

"First the earl of Glenkirk," his half brother counseled. "If he remains too near Lady Lindley, you will have no chance at all. Look!" He pointed across the room. "The earl and Lady Lindley are departing even now. Quickly, Piers! You must see the king now!"

The marquis of Hartsfield moved gracefully across the room, blocking the earl of Glenkirk and Jasmine even as they turned away from bidding the king farewell. "Sire!" he said loudly. "If Lady Lindley is to give me a fair chance at courting her, I do not believe that Lord Leslie should be living in her house and sharing her bed, do you?"

"What's this?" said the king. "Jemmie, is it true? Yer at Greenwood wi Lady Lindley?"

"Aye, my lord," the earl of Glenkirk said tersely, casting an angry glance at the marquis of Hartsfield.

"Nah, nah, Jemmie, we canna hae that," the king replied.

"Sire, he may be my guest," the earl of Lynmouth said coming forward, and bowing low. "Jemmie and I are old friends."

"Excellent, excellent," said the king. "Ye'll stay wi Robin Southwood, Jemmie, eh? ‘Tis a fair solution, is it nae?"

The earl of Glenkirk bowed to his king. "I will, of course, escort Jasmine home," he told James Stuart.

"And I shall come, too," the earl of Lynmouth said, "and we'll get you settled at Lynmouth House." His look warned both his niece and Lord Leslie to silence.

"Lynmouth's house is next to Lady Lindley's," murmured Kipp in his brother's ear. "Is that not a little too near?"

"If I speak further, I shall appear to whine," the marquis said low. "I will not debase myself with any further puling complaint."

"My lord," Jasmine said to St.Denis as they departed the room, "you are wasting your time, and will make a fool of yourself. Let matters rest as they are. The king will find you an heiress of your own if you ask him prettily, and I am certain you know how to beg, do you not?" She smiled sweetly at him as his handsome features darkened in anger.

But then Piers St.Denis laughed, sweeping the ire from his handsome face. "Ahh, madame, you but fascinate me with every word. I do not believe anyone has ever been able to infuriate me as you do. I shall not give up my pursuit of you. You are much too intriguing, and I vow I shall win you from Glenkirk."

"Never!" Jasmine said vehemently.

The marquis of Hartsfield took her arm, edging out the earl of Glenkirk, who fell angrily behind with the earl of Lynmouth. "Now, madame, do not be unruly with me. You will like me. Everyone likes me, except perhaps Villiers, but then I see him for what he really is when others do not. He is naught but an upstart. I am a most charming fellow as you will learn if you will but give me a chance."

Jasmine laughed in spite of herself. "My lord," she said quietly, regaining her composure, "this is a difficult situation in which we find ourselves. I must seem a shrew to you, but you must understand that I have known James Leslie for years. I have come to love him. Ours is an ideal match. My children adore him. I cannot be swayed even by your most prodigious charms. This is a futile quest upon which you embark, and, frankly, I am furious with the king for proposing it."

"You are adorable when you are angry," he purred.

"God's blood!" Jasmine swore.

Piers St.Denis chortled, his blazing blue eyes dancing devilishly. "Your little son swore in Hindi," he said. "Can you swear in Hindi, too? He was quite a delightful little fellow, your royal bastard."

"I can swear expertly in at least seven languages," she replied.

They had reached the courtyard, where their carriage was awaiting them. He helped her in, smiling toothily. "I shall call upon you tomorrow, madame," he said. "If the weather is fair, perhaps we shall lunch along the river somewhere. I will come in my barge." Slamming the door shut, he signaled the coachmen to depart, waving gaily at Jasmine, then turning about and saluting both earls as he made to retrace his steps back to the king, and the court.

"The bastard!" Glenkirk swore. "I came with Jasmine, and have no horse. How the hell am I supposed to get back to Greenwood?"

"In my coach," Robin said. "I didn't ride. Clever of Hartsfield to edge us out so neatly. I have noticed that he is not a man who likes to lose. He will drive Jasmine to distraction until you leave for mother's."

"We have made our peace with the king," Glenkirk snarled. "We will leave for Queen's Malvern as quickly as we can be packed up."

"Oh, no, Jemmie," Robin Southwood said quietly as they settled themselves in his coach. "The king has decided Jasmine is to have a choice of husbands. A bit after the fact, of course, but then timing has never been old king fool's strong point. He has offered up his favored minion for Jasmine's delectation. If you depart for Queen's Malvern, the king will be angry all over again, and Hartsfield will probably come after you. You have a bit over five weeks until your wedding day. You will remain here in London for four weeks, give or take a day. You will let Piers St.Denis play the eager suitor, and then Jasmine will announce her decision to marry you after all. Only then can you depart for mother's with the king's blessing, which you must have. The queen, as you well know, favors your marriage to Jasmine. Now promise me, Glenkirk, that you will not be foolish, and you will follow my plan."

"Why do I want to punch our pretty marquis in the mouth?" growled Glenkirk.

"Because he is a slimey little turd," Robin Southwood replied.

"What the hell does Jamie see in him?"

"He's young, and very amusing, and clever. He panders to the king's affections; and right now James Stuart seems to need those two young men vying for his attention and his favor. He has never really recovered from Prince Henry's death, and Prince Charles is a dour little fellow, quite unlike his elder sibling. The king doubts he will ever make a good ruler, and is not shy about saying so. Charles, of course, is fiercely jealous of both Villiers and Hartsfield. He thinks they take his old dad's affections from him, but I wonder just how much affection the king has for his younger son. Now, Jemmie, you are going to behave yourself, aren't you?"

"I suspect I have no choice," grumbled the earl of Glenkirk.

Robin Southwood chuckled. "Well," he said wryly, "we could waylay Hartsfield in a dark alley and strangle him, I suppose."

"Now there's a fine thought!" James Leslie said enthusiastically.

"We will have to convince Jasmine to play along with our game," Lynmouth told his companion.

"You may have that privilege," Glenkirk said.

"You must back me up, Jemmie!" Lynmouth said. "My niece can be the very devil to reason with, as you well know."

"I'll back you up," Glenkirk agreed, "but if she's not of a mind to do it, heaven help us all."

"Damn, I wish mother were here," Robin Southwood said.

"Well, she isn't, and she'll have both our hides if we do not make this all come out right, Robin. I hope we're doing what Madame Skye would want us to do in the matter."

"There is nothing to keep us from sending her a communication as to what's going on," the earl of Lynmouth said. "She should know."

Glenkirk laughed. "Aye, so she should," he agreed. "She will not be afraid to take on this king. Divine Right means nothing to Madame Skye, does it, Robin?"

His companion chuckled. "Nay, Glenkirk, it never did, and I think Jasmine is more like my mother than anyone else I know."

"But Jasmine has always respected Divine Right," Glenkirk said.

"She won't when it interferes with her plans to marry you," the earl of Lynmouth said mischievously, "She has never stopped being the Mughal's daughter. May God have mercy on us all if the king does not cease his meddling in her life. There will be hell to pay for certain, and Hartsfield will learn to his regret that you cannot make our wild Jasmine do what she does not choose to do."