Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Skye's children had all arrived at Queen's Malvern but for Ewan O'Flaherty and his family, who lived in Ireland. Padraic and his Valentina had ridden over from nearby Pearroc Royale with Valentina's parents, Conn and Aidan, Lord and Lady Bliss.

Deirdre Burke Blackthorne had come in her coach from Blackthorne Hall with her husband John. She was quick to reassure Velvet that Neddie, Robert, and Henry were safe, well-fed, and happily into naughtiness with their Blackthorne cousins. "Thalia and Penelope are delighted to have them and are worse than the boys," Deirdre said, smiling.

Murrough O'Flaherty and his Joan were up from Devon, as were Robin, the Earl of Southwood, and his wife Angel, and, of course, Willow, the Countess of Alcester, and her devoted husband, James Edwardes.

"I cannot imagine what is so special about Velvet's thirty-third birthday that we all had to be here," Willow said to her siblings. "After Adam Burke's christening last Christmas, I was certain that Mama would never have us all again, but she absolutely insisted we come." Then she smiled mischievously. "Of course, we were told to leave our numerous offspring at home. Did you know I am to be a grandmother? Cecily's first is due around All Saint's Day."

The hall had been decorated beautifully with flowering branches of hawthorn, fragrant pine, and early lilacs. There were places set for twenty at the U-shaped table. The best linen and the heavy silver were used along with silver goblets decorated with carnelians. The candles were of the purest beeswax and scented with rose oil. There were silver bowls filled with lilacs, apple blossoms, small, early roses, and lily of the valley. Applewood fires took the chill off the evening.

Skye was an excellent hostess and had always enjoyed entertaining. Tonight the festive meal consisted of fine salmon that had been brought by the Gordons of BrocCairn from Scotland. The creatures had been caught in nets and then transported in barrels of icy springwater to England, where they met their end in the kitchens of Queen's Malvern. They were served upon beds of fresh sharp cress that had traveled with them. The contrast between the thinly sliced pink flesh of the salmon and the bright green herb was a delight to the eye Tubs of freshly caught North Sea oysters; large, meaty prawns that had been poached in wine; steamed mussels, their shiny black shells half-opened; and tiny little coquilles in a dilled cream sauce made up the rest of the fish course.

There was a side of roasted beef dripping its juices; a large, sweet pink ham; a platter of tiny lamb chops; two roasted turkeys; six ducks which were served with a fruit sauce; a fine pheasant; and a platter of tiny ortolans which had been browned to perfection. There were bowls of new peas, tiny beets, and lettuce braised in white wine. Several silver salvers were piled high with freshly baked breads. There was a wheel of sharp cheddar and one of French brie. Wines from Archambault and home-brewed ale were equally popular.

Velvet de Marisco Gordon had been born shortly after midnight on the first day of May. It had been the custom of her family since her childhood to begin the celebration of her birth on the evening before, the festivities culminating with the gift-giving after the midnight hour. It somehow seemed a more festive occasion than usual this particular year, although none of the guests could say why.

The ladies were beautifully gowned. Skye wore a deep midnight-blue velvet. Willow was in an elegant rose-pink silk gown, while her sister Deirdre was garbed in a flattering shade of mauve and Velvet wore her favorite dark green velvet. Skye's daughters-in-law were equally lovely. Joan always looked her best in sky-blue. Angel was radiant in aquamarine-blue; Valentina magnificent in lilac silk. Young Lady Sybilla, quite excited to be included in her mother's party, was very pretty in apple-green.

The gentlemen were more sedate in black velvet suits with crisp white neck ruffs, including Alex Gordon's heir, Sandy, and his next eldest brother, Adam Charles. Both were feeling very grown-up and worked hard at aping their elders' manners lest they be sent from the table.

Skye looked about her and smiled, satisfied. The sweets had been brought, including a caramel crème br?lée, which was Velvet's favorite dessert. Her family was well-fed and happy, trading confidences and gossip. Soon it would be midnight and Velvet would sit in the place of honor at the high board and receive her gifts. Skye had already announced that the gift she and Adam planned to give their daughter would be the last gift she received.

" 'Tis midnight," Adam finally announced as the tall clock in the Great Hall began to strike. He stood up and, raising his goblet, said, "Happy Birthday, Velvet! May this birthday be the best one you have ever had, and may you remember it always!"

The other guests raised their goblets, calling out, "Happy Birthday, Velvet! Long life! Happiness!"

Velvet beamed appreciatively, and then her green eyes grew as wide as a child's as her gifts were placed before her all at once, appearing magically from beneath the tables where her relatives had hidden them. There were perfumed leather gloves lined in sheer silk and embroidered with small gemstones, several small pieces of jewelry, a particularly beautiful set of paste buttons fashioned like flowers that rivaled real jewels, a charming loupe mask of black silk embroidered with floral sprigs in gold and silver threads, a handsome wide comb decorated with pearls around its arch, and finally a set of two silk handkerchiefs that had been monogrammed by Sibby in dainty stitches.

Velvet ohhed and ahhed appreciatively as each gift was opened and admired. When there was nothing left, she looked up and said to her mother, "Now Mama, what is this surprise that you and Papa have for me?"

Skye and Adam chuckled simultaneously, and then Lady de Marisco signaled to her servants, giving her husband a very arch look as she did so, her daughter Willow thought.

The doors to the Great Hall opened and several footmen guided in a square platform that had been set on wheels. Above the base of the contraption was a railing from which brass rings holding a blue velvet curtain hung. The curtain enclosed and hid from view the mysterious contents of the platform.

"Well, Mama, this is most curious!" Willow declared. What on earth was the curtain hiding? Her mother had certainly never given her anything like this as a gift, and why choose her youngest sibling's thirty-third birthday? What was so special about this birthday?

The platform was carefully wheeled into the center of the U-shaped table and brought to a halt directly before Velvet. With a great sense of drama, Skye and Adam came to stand on either side of it, even as everyone crowded about around Velvet so they might also see what was hidden. Slowly, slowly, the de Mariscos drew back the heavy curtain revealing to view what appeared to be a living tableau.

In the foreground of the platform stood a beautiful young woman dressed in the absolute height of fashion. Her gown was of scarlet silk with an undergown of cloth-of-gold embroidered with tiny pearls and sparkling diamante. The neckline of the dress was low and square. The sleeves were designed with small slashes through which showed little cloth-of-gold puffs of material. Cuffs of gold lace accented the wearer's delicate wrists. The lady's black hair was parted in the center and twisted into an elegant chignon. She wore red roses in her hair, and the ruby necklace about her neck was obviously worth a king's ransom, as were the rubies cascading from her ears.

She was accompanied by three companions. A gentleman of mid-height wore exotic garb that consisted of narrow white pants, a white coat embroidered lightly in gold thread and pearls that came to just below his knees, and a small white turban upon his head. The other two people upon the platform were obviously twin sisters, who wore even more exotic garb fashioned of green and gold silks, part of which covered their dark hair.

The audience ohhed.

Velvet stared hard. There was something familiar about these people. She had seen them before. She knew them. Adali! Rohana! Toramalli! The names came suddenly into her head. Her heart began to pound violently. She gripped the edge of the table, white-knuckled.

She looked again, this time directly at the beautiful girl. Incredible and very unusual turquoise-blue eyes stared calmly back at her. There was something in their expression that tugged at her memory, but she could not quite place it. She carefully searched the girl's face for something familiar, something she could recognize and identify. The room was deathly silent, the frank curiosity of the other guests hanging heavily in the air.

It was then that Velvet saw the small beauty mark on the girl's face. A tiny dark mole just below her left nostril and just above her upper lip. No. It could not be. It simply could not be! She gasped with shock as memories began to flood her very being. It was then the girl smiled tremulously and said, "Happy Birthday, Mama." With a shriek of dismay, Velvet de Marisco fainted.

Instantly the hall was in an uproar, but Skye and Adam quickly took charge. The Earl of BrocCairn was directed to carry his unconscious wife to a settle near the fireplace. Captain Murrough O'Flaherty was directed to escort the girl on the platform and her companions off their stage. The rest of the guests were told to be silent, and then Skye began to force wine between her youngest daughter's lips. Velvet moaned and opened her eyes.

"Ohhhh," she groaned. Seeing her mother's angry face, she closed her eyes again.

"Open your eyes, Velvet Gabrielle-Marie de Marisco," Skye snapped. "Open your eyes this instant! You promised me! You promised me that you would tell Alex, and you have not, have you? You have not!"

Velvet's green eyes fluttered open once more. Her mother was glaring furiously at her. She could not remember ever having seen Skye so angry. Alex, her darling Alex, was looking dismayed and confused. "I … I could not!" she finally managed to say to her mother.

"Sit up!" snapped Skye. "What do you mean, you could not?"

Velvet struggled into a seated position. She was very pale, and her face was already streaked with tears. For a brief moment she looked far younger than her thirty-three years. From beneath her wet lashes she glanced quickly at Jasmine and then as quickly away again. "Do you not remember, Mama?" she said softly. "Do you not remember that I said I should never tell Alex lest he reproach me with the knowledge?"

For a moment Skye looked confused. Was she getting old enough to have forgotten such a thing? "I thought that the pain being fresh and new was what made you declare such a thing," she told her daughter. "I thought that there would come a time when you could trust Alex and enlighten him fully."

"There was never such a time," Velvet said bleakly, her voice low. "He is a Scot and would not understand."

"In fifteen years there was never a time when you might have told your husband about your firstborn child?" Skye demanded, unbelieving.

"Ohhhh!" Willow and Deirdre gasped simultaneously, their eyes wide, their expressions unabashedly shocked.

"What?" the Earl of BrocCairn demanded, his face darkening with outrage. "What is this that your mother has said? This girl is your child? How, madame, can that be? And just when did you cuckold me, Velvet?" He looked angrier than any of his relations could ever remember having seen him.

"Tell him, Velvet," Skye said implacably. "Tell him this instant or I shall tell him. I am astounded by your behavior and cannot imagine what Jasmine must think of you. Tell him!"

"Aye, madame, tell me," the Earl of BrocCairn said menacingly.

Velvet looked nervously from her mother to her husband to Jasmine and then back to Alex. What was the use? The cat was certainly out of the bag now. There was no help for it. "Yasaman is my daughter," she told Alex Gordon. "Her father is the Grand Mughal, Akbar."

"How can this possibly be?" he demanded furiously.

Suddenly Velvet was angry herself. The memory of being forcibly separated from her daughter rose up, threatening to overwhelm her. All those years and so much between them lost. She had never seen this child take her first step or utter her first intelligent word. She had not kissed away bruises or helped her with her lessons. How dare he stand over her judging her, condemning her? She looked at Jasmine again. My God! she thought. By some miracle I do not even know yet, my daughter has been restored to me.

Standing up, Velvet said to her husband, "She was begat in the usual manner, my lord, but I was forced to leave her behind in India when I was sent home to you fifteen years ago. I never believed I would see my daughter again, Alex, but this is she. I have not a doubt. She carries her father's mark between her left nostril and her upper lip." Then she turned away from him and, opening her arms, said, "Come to me, Yasaman Kama Begum! You are the best birthday gift I have ever received! I long to embrace you as I have never before been able to do." Tears of happiness slipped down her face.

With a small cry of joy, Jasmine flew into her mother's arms. "Oh, Mama!" she said. "Ohh, Mama!" and she, too, wept.

Velvet hugged her daughter, covering her beautiful face with maternal kisses. "Oh, my darling," she told Jasmine, "you are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined! Why are you here? I believed you married and settled. What of your father?"

About them the family milled, stunned and questioning. It was obvious that they needed answers. "Wait," said Skye, and they all turned to her. "This story is too long to be told more than once. Gather around, my darlings, and together Velvet and my forty-sixth grandchild will tell you the story."

"So that is what you meant last Christmas when you said you and Papa had forty-six grandchildren," Willow said with a small laugh. "Have you known about her all along, Mama? Oh, of course you have! There is nothing in this family you do not concern yourself with, is there?"

"Sandy! Adam Charles! Sybilla!" the Earl of BrocCairn barked. "You will leave the hall immediately."

"Nay!" their grandmother sternly countermanded his order. "You will all please stay." She turned to her son-in-law. "This is a shock, Alex, I know. Jasmine, however, is a reality. Your children are her siblings. They should know her story from her own lips and from Velvet's, not from some vicious backstairs gossip." She put a gentle hand on his arm. "Please."

"Very well," he agreed, unable to refute her reasoning. Although Sybilla looked clearly shocked by this turn of events and was obviously near to tears, Alexander Gordon had to admit that his sons looked absolutely fascinated by all that was transpiring. "You may stay," he told them tersely.

Chairs were brought from about the hall and drawn up around the fireplace. The ladies all sat, the gentlemen stood by their sides. The two Gordon boys settled themselves upon the floor, using their aunts' silk-covered legs as a back prop. All eyes were turned to Skye, Velvet, and the beautiful young woman,

"This," Skye began formally, "is Velvet's firstborn child. In her native India she is known as Yasaman Kama Begum. She is an Imperial Mughal princess. Here in England she prefers that she be known by the English translation of her name, which is Jasmine. She has taken her grandfather's surname for her own as well. Her companions are her high steward, Adali; and her maidservants, Rohana and Toramalli. They also served Velvet during her time in India. I believe, however, that Velvet will want to begin the tale."

"You all remember that shortly after Alex and I were wed, he fought a foolish duel over the long-lost honor of a strumpet," Velvet began, and she glared at her husband. Alex, not in the least intimidated, glared back. Jasmine, however, was fascinated to have this new piece of information to add to Mama Begum's tale of Candra. "Padraic, who was there, heard someone cry out that Lord Gordon was dead. Looking, he could see Alex sprawled upon the green. He rushed to tell me of this disaster before some stranger could." She turned to look at her brother, Padraic Burke, who flushed with the memory of his heedless youth.

"I was devastated by his news," Velvet continued. "Mama and Papa were in India, being held for ransom by the Portuguese governor. Murrough was to set sail that very day with the gold needed to obtain their release. I instantly begged him to take me with him. I could not bear to be left alone in my grief."

"You might have come to me or Deirdre," Willow said sharply.

Velvet laughed. "You would have tried to run my life, dear, bossy Willow. And sweet Deirdre would have sympathized so deeply with me, I would have slipped into the grave myself with my grief," she told her two elder sisters. "No, my decision to go to India was actually the best decision I could have made under the circumstances. I needed Mama's strength. But when we arrived in India, we discovered that Mama and Papa had escaped the Portuguese and were already on their way home.

"The Portuguese governor was furious. He removed me from Murrough's vessel and forced our brother to deliver the ransom anyway, in exchange for my freedom. What Murrough was not aware of was that Mama had so offended the governor, who had made lewd advances toward her that she quite harshly rebuffed, that he intended to be revenged upon her by sending me as a gift to Akbar, India's ruler, the Grand Mughal.

"By the time Murrough learned of the Portuguese deception, it was too late. The caravan was long gone, and me with it." Velvet sighed deeply and then took up the skein of her story once again. "I will not go into the harrowing details of either the journey or my arrival at the Mughal's then capital city, Fatahpur Sikri. You need only know that the Mughal, Akbar, fell in love with me and made me his fortieth wife under the laws of India. I fell in love with Akbar, and on August ninth in the year of our Lord 1590, our daughter Yasaman was born at my palace in Kashmir.

"Bearing a man's child binds a woman closer to that man than she has ever been before," Velvet said thoughtfully, and the women in the room, but for Sybilla, understood exactly what she meant. "I loved the man I believed to be my husband. I loved our baby girl. When Yasaman was several months old, however, our uncle, Michael O'Malley, arrived at Akbar's palace to tell us that Alex Gordon had not been killed in that infamous duel. He was alive and, despite everything that had happened, it was he and not Akbar who was my legal husband. I had no choice but to return to England.

"At the time I did not want to return. I had been married to Alex but a few months; to Akbar almost two years. We had a child! The Mughal, Akbar, however, is a man of deep honor. Despite what we had shared, he would not allow another man's wife to remain in his zenana. I was drugged and sent from him without my daughter. Akbar would not allow me to take her. She was all, he told me, that he had left of the great passion we had shared. He feared for her reception here in England. He is more than well acquainted with the European nature.

"I knew little of her after that, but that she was still alive. Each year on her birthday, Akbar would send a pearl to Mama, a small sign that my daughter thrived. Two years ago Mama said she had received a letter from Cullen Butler, Jasmine's tutor, saying that Jasmine was married and quite happy. Whatever small dream I might have harbored to meet Yasaman again, I certainly never expected to see my daughter after her marriage."

Robin Southwood looked at his new niece and, smiling, said, "It is Jasmine's turn now, I believe, to take up the story. Will you tell us, my dear, how you came to be here in England?"

All eyes turned to the girl. They admired her beauty and obvious good manners. The Earl of BrocCairn, however, could not help but feel anger toward this beautiful creature who had so changed his life. As for the earl's daughter, Sybilla, her anger burned even hotter than her father's. She was Velvet's daughter, not this exotic creature! She would not permit this Jasmine to have even the slightest share of Velvet. Velvet was her mama!

"I do not remember the mother who gave me birth," Jasmine began softly, "but never was I allowed, from earliest memory, to forget the woman who was called Candra, whom my father had so deeply loved. I am told that on the day she was taken from me, he ascended into a high tower on the palace grounds overlooking the road to the coast. He did not come out for three days, emerging only at the insistence of his mother, whom his frightened wives had sent for, as he would neither answer nor heed their pleadings. When my father finally came from his tower, his hair had gone white. He never really ceased to grieve for his Candra."

Velvet gasped. Tears sprang into her eyes. "He had such beautiful dark hair," she said, almost to herself. "It was so soft, yet strong, even as he was."

A spasm of pain crossed Alex Gordon's face.

"I was given to my father's first wife, Rugaiya Begum, to be raised," Jasmine continued. "I call her Mama Begum. My life was simple, surrounded by family. I had three half brothers and three half sisters. Then, on the night of my thirteenth birthday, my eldest brother, Salim, came to me. I will not go into lurid detail," Jasmine said, "but my brother began a seduction of me which he eventually hoped to carry to the fullest extent of the word. He was willing, however, to be patient and left my maidenhead intact that night."

Sybilla gasped, but her aunt Valentina pinched her sharply on the arm to silence any outburst which would arouse her father's ire. Sybilla, despite her virginal state, knew more, Valentina believed, than she pretended.

Jasmine continued her tale, telling them of her marriage, and finally Jamal Khan's murder. Then she stopped. The tears she had restrained before now slipped down her pale cheeks. Remember, you are the Mughal's daughter. She could hear Mama Begum's voice in her ear.

"Why was your father incapable of protecting you?" Murrough O'Flaherty asked gently.

Jasmine shook her head. "My father's health was precarious at best. For better or for worse, Salim was his eldest son and his heir. There was but one solution to our problem: that I leave India. My father and Mama Begum conceived a plan. I escaped incognito to the port of Cambay with Father Cullen and my servants. I learned after I reached England that my father, the Grand Mughal Akbar, had died two months after I set sail.

"Salim has now taken the name of Jahangir, which means ‘World Seizer.' He is Grand Mughal of India today. Had I remained in India, I should have been forced into an incestuous relationship with my own brother. The very thought is horrifying to me. Mama Begum and my father believed I should be safe in England with my mother's family."

"Does your brother know that you are here?" Robin Southwood asked.

"No, my lord, to my knowledge he does not. No one but Mama Begum, my father, and my servants who have traveled with me knew of my destination."

There was a long silence as they digested what Jasmine and Velvet had told them. Then Padraic, Lord Burke, who was closest in age to Velvet, spoke.

"What will you do now, Jasmine?" he asked.

Jasmine laughed. "Grandmother says I must have another husband, but I do not think I am quite ready to settle down yet, Uncle."

"Jasmine will live with me," Skye told them firmly. "Adam and I have rewritten our wills. She will inherit both Greenwood House in London and Queen's Malvern one day. Although Velvet will inherit her father's title, it will eventually go to Jasmine as Velvet's firstborn daughter. None of you need Greenwood or Queen's Malvern. You cannot possibly object to our decision."

"But Mama was to have Greenwood and Queen's Malvern," Sybilla Gordon wailed. "And she said it would one day come to me!"

"She should not have said such a thing to you, Sybilla," Skye responded sharply. "Neither of those houses was hers to give. Although we had, for many years, thought to leave them to Velvet, the truth of the matter is that she does not need them. Your father has decided against making a permanent home in England, Sybilla. You, I am told, hope to become the Earl of Glenkirk's wife. You, too, will remain in Scotland then. Jasmine is my granddaughter of my blood, and she needs her own home."

"It will always be open to the family, as it always has been," Jasmine said in an attempt to soothe her stepsister's fears.

"How kind of you," Sybilla said acidly, "but if you think I will ever come into this house or Greenwood once they are yours, you are sadly mistaken. I will not associate with some foreign-born bastard, even if she is my mother's child!"

Jasmine grew pale, but then before anyone else could speak, she said, "I was born in India, the legitimate issue of its ruler. You, however, were born in England, the illegitimate issue of a silversmith's daughter and my mother's husband. What does that make you, I wonder?"

"Ohhhhh!" Sybilla wailed, and she stomped her foot angrily, her golden curls bouncing with her aggravation.

Jasmine burst out laughing. Although she found Sybilla annoying, she also thought her response silly.

"Papa! That bastard girl is laughing at me," Sybilla cried to Alex Gordon. "Make her stop this instant! I will not have it!"

Jasmine stepped forward and slapped her stepsister upon her cheek. "If you use that word to describe me ever again," she threatened, "I will claw your round blue eyes from your head!"

Sybilla shrieked and then her fury spilled over. She was Lady Sybilla Alexandra Mary Gordon, the daughter of the Earl of BrocCairn. The girl before her was nothing! Nothing! "My father legitimatized me, you bastard!" she screamed.

Jasmine slapped her again, this time harder. "I told you not to use that word," she warned her antagonist. "Being legitimatized has certainly not improved the low streak in your blood that you have obviously inherited from your mother."

"This is my mother!" Sybilla screamed, pointing to Velvet.

"No," Jasmine said. "That is my mother."

"Stop it you two!" Skye finally interceded. "Stop it this instant!" She grasped Velvet's stepdaughter by the arm. "Sybilla, you began this contretemps. Jasmine, however, has finished it. Velvet is mother to you both. She bore Jasmine, and she has raised Sybilla from her earliest memory. Now apologize to each other. I will not have my family torn apart by silly bickering."

"Apologize? To her? Never!" Sybilla spat.

"I can hardly apologize for speaking the truth," Jasmine told her grandmother angrily.

"Bastard girl!" Sybilla snarled.

Jasmine leapt forward and knocked her stepsister to the carpet, throwing herself atop her to pummel her with tightly clenched fists. She would teach this little bitch a lesson not to be forgotten. How dare she use such an epithet toward her? Bastard? She was no bastard. She was the Mughal's daughter! Sybilla shrieked and fought back. She was no mean opponent and defended herself with spirit.

"This is what your reckless behavior has brought us to!" shouted Alex Gordon to his wife.

"My reckless behavior?" his wife countered. "I was a helpless slave in the Mughal's zenana. Would you prefer that I had killed myself to preserve your honor? You hardly considered honor when you set about to swive Alanna Wythe with such vigor and openly made her your mistress. You even took her back to Scotland and set her up in your village in her own cottage, where she tormented me and almost got me killed! My reckless behavior?" Velvet rounded on her husband and hit him a blow that sent the Earl of BrocCairn reeling.

The Earl of Lynmouth burst out laughing. "Now here's a sight I never thought to see again," Robin chortled. "The battling BrocCairns. Why, everything's been so lovey-dovey the last few years between Alex and Velvet, I thought for certain that contentment had finally turned them into dull beings. I love surprises, don't you?" He moved back as his nieces rolled screaming and clawing beneath his feet.

"Robin, how can you?" his wife, Angel, scolded, but Robin had already dissolved into even heartier guffaws, and was joined by the rest of the gentlemen, who wheezed with mirth, tears running down their cheeks.

"Men," Skye said grimly to her daughters and daughters-in-law, "are consummate fools. Aidan!" she called to her sister-in-law. "Give me a hand with these two wildcats. Willow, you can help as well!"

Not without difficulty were the two combatants separated and dragged apart by their female relations. Jasmine's three servants had been stunned and shocked by the melee. Now they looked helplessly to Skye for direction. She shook her head at them.

"This is a different world, and your mistress must learn to cope by herself." Then her Kerry-blue eyes twinkled. "I think she is doing quite nicely, do you not?" she whispered to them.

Unable to help himself, Adali grinned. "Yes, my lady," he said low, and then he chuckled as Rohana and Toramalli giggled helplessly behind their little hands.

Jasmine's beautiful black hair had been pulled from its elegant chignon, and there was a small purple bruise beginning to form high on her left cheekbone. Her gown had been ripped off one shoulder, but other than that she was little the worse for wear.

Her two half brothers, Sandy and Adam Charles, were wide-eyed with surprise. They had never imagined that girls could fight like boys. The younger of the two could not prevent the grin that split his face as he looked at Jasmine.

"Sibby hae almost blacked your eye," he said matter-of-factly.

Jasmine regarded him with equal interest. She had always been the youngest, but now suddenly she was the eldest of her new siblings. "I did black hers," she said.

"Are you really a bas—" He stopped, and then, "You know …"

Jasmine laughed. "It is difficult to explain," she told the boy. "We have the same mother, but different fathers. What is your name, boy? I think I should know your name as we are brother and sister."

"Adam Charles, but they call me Charlie," he answered.

"Well, Charlie," Jasmine said, "I know you've heard my story, but let me see if I can explain it in simpler terms. In my land I was born of a legitimate union. In your land, you and your brothers were born of a legitimate union, but there are some in your land who would think the marriage between our mother and my father illegal. In my land they do not. Does any of this make sense to you?" She looked down at the boy. He had dark hair and their grandmother's green-blue eyes. There was a sprinkle of golden freckles across the bridge of his nose.

"Aye, 'tis like the old Kirk and the new Kirk at home. Each says the other is wrong and wicked," Charlie answered.

Jasmine was surprised by his quick grasp of the situation. She knew about the religious squabbles going on throughout Europe from her studies and from her grandmother, who had explained the situation in England to her when she arrived. "Aye, Charlie, 'tis just like that," she told him. "You are a quick lad, I think."

"Can we be friends?" he asked. "I hae nae been friends wi a girl before, but I nae knew a girl who could fight so good. Aye, you've blackened Sibby's eye for her, I can see." He pointed to his other half sister.

Young Lady Sybilla had indeed gotten the worst of it. Her blond hair was pulled and, delicate of texture, it stood out in unattractive clumps. Her face was scratched, one eye was indeed blackened, and her skirt was in shreds. She was howling more, however, than was really warranted in the situation.

"She almost killed me! She did certainly try to kill me! Mama! Papa!" Sibby looked about for her parents, but they were still arguing with each other. She could not obtain their attention. She grew sullen and quiet, glaring at Jasmine, who glared back.

"Ohhhhh!" shrieked Sibby, suddenly drawing back. "She is going to come at me again, that wild woman! Keep her away from me! Keep her away from me!" Sibby threw herself at her aunt Willow.

Willow, however, was not one bit fooled by Sybilla Gordon's histrionics. She took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. "That is quite enough, miss!" she said. "Your half sister Jasmine has made no further move in your direction. Stop this nonsense or I shall myself slap you out of your hysterics, you silly chit!"

Sibby grew silent.

"Spoiled," Willow said to her sister-in-law, Joan O'Flaherty. "Velvet has spoiled her rotten. There has been no advantage in being the only girl in a family of boys. Now she has a rival for Velvet's affections and she is jealous."

Joan nodded. Whether you agreed or disagreed with Willow, it was best simply to nod. In this particular instance she did agree with her formidable sister-in-law.

The beautiful Countess of Lynmouth, however, was a bit more sympathetic toward her niece. "You cannot blame her, Willow," Angel Southwood said. "She has had Velvet to herself her whole life, and Velvet has perhaps worked harder at being a good mother to Sibby because Alanna was such a bad mother. Discovering that Velvet has another daughter must be a terrible shock for Sibby. Especially under the circumstances."

"If Alex would set his daughter a better example," Willow noted, "Sibby would follow suit. But no. There he is, raging and ranting about something that happened almost sixteen years ago. Although I thought Velvet impetuous to run off with Murrough at the time, and I still do, the birth of her daughter by the Indian king is hardly her fault now, is it?"

Valentina St. Michael Burke burst out laughing. "I do not think Jasmine's father is totally responsible for her birth," she said. "Do you, dearest Willow? Velvet did play some part in the situation."

"I have heard enough!" Skye O'Malley de Marisco said. She turned to the gentlemen and said fiercely, "Sit down and stop braying like donkeys, the pack of you." When the room grew silent, she continued. "I will have no more quarreling about this. The facts are quite clear. Jasmine is Velvet's daughter by the Grand Mughal Akbar, now deceased. She was born of a legitimate union in her own land and is as legitimate as any of you, as far as I am concerned. She has come to us for refuge. She will have it, and anything else I choose to give her. Is that quite plain to everyone?

"Sybilla, you, too, are Velvet's daughter, for she has raised you from your infancy and loves you dearly. Whatever the circumstances of your birth, your father has legally legitimatized you. But I will not allow you or anyone else to unfairly blacken Jasmine's reputation or the de Marisco name. You are jealous that you must now share your mama. I understand that, but you must try not to be jealous. Velvet, I know, has more than enough love for both her daughters and all her sons too. Certainly you are not so stupid that you cannot understand that.

"Alex! Our daughter was a good and faithful wife to you before her adventures in India and certainly has been after them. Jasmine's arrival into our midst is, of course, a great surprise, but I would remind you that my daughter has raised with love the daughter born to your mistress. No one asked her. Velvet did it out of her love for you. You will not dare to mistreat her or my granddaughter Jasmine unless you wish to answer to me."

"It was different with me," the Earl of BrocCairn began, but his mother-in-law interrupted him angrily.

"If you tell me it was different because you were a man, Alexander Gordon, I shall kill you where you stand!" Skye threatened. "Now this has been more of a day than I expected ever to have. I am no longer a young woman. I am going to bed, and I suggest you all do the same. Adam!" She stamped from the Great Hall.

Adam de Marisco rose to his feet. "Good night, my dears," he said, and with a wink he was gone after his wife.

For a moment there was silence in the Great Hall of Queen's Malvern. Then Jasmine de Marisco curtsied to her relations and bid them good-night, leaving the hall with her three servants in her wake.

"Ohhh, Papa!" Sibby Gordon cried, flinging herself into her father's embrace, seeking sympathy.

Alex Gordon, however, was confused. He pushed his daughter away, saying, "Go to bed, Sibby. I've nae time for ye now, lass."

Velvet took Sybilla's face in her hands and kissed the girl. "Go along and obey your papa, dearest."

"Do you love me still, Mama?" Sibby said low. "Or do you love that bastard girl more?"

"I love all my children equally, Sybilla," Velvet said quietly, "and if you love me, dearest, you will not refer to my firstborn child as a bastard. She is not. It hurts me greatly when you say it. You will shame me and your father if you continue to do so."

Sybilla nodded. "I would not hurt you, Mama. I love you!"

"Come, Sibby," Aidan St. Michael said, taking her niece by the hand and leading her off. "Let Uncle Conn and me escort you upstairs."

When the doors to the Great Hall closed again, the children of Skye O'Malley settled themselves about the fire and began to talk with one another.

"Well," chuckled Murrough, "you say you like surprises, Robin. We have surely had one this evening. I thought we were past the time when Mother could surprise us, but obviously we are not."

"Mama," Willow said sharply, "will go on surprising us until she is gone. Frankly, I am not so certain that she will not reach from beyond the grave to surprise us all a final time or two!"

The others laughed appreciatively.

"What are we to do, then?" Padraic asked.

"About what?" Deirdre questioned her brother. "Surely we will all accept Velvet's child as one of our own?"

There were nods and murmurs of assent, but John Blackthorne, Deirdre's husband, said quietly, "What of your feelings, Alex? This affects you and your children more than any of us."

The Earl of BrocCairn looked up at them, and never had any of them seen Alex Gordon look so vulnerable. "Madame Skye is correct when she says that Velvet hae always been a faithful wife to me. She is correct when she says that Sibby is jealous. The lass is pea-green. There is nae doubt about it. She is correct when she says that Velvet hae raised Sibby wi love. She has.

"I want to be as generous to Velvet's daughter as my wife has been to my daughter. I want to love her child as she hae loved mine, but I cannot! Even though I knew that the Grand Mughal had made Velvet his wife, I could put it all from my mind because Velvet came home to me. Because she was a good wife to me and bore my sons. Because she was generous enough to take my daughter to her heart. As the years went by, I pushed that episode in our lives further away into some distant past that perhaps never really existed after all. There was nothing to substantiate it, was there?

"But now," he sighed, "Jasmine de Marisco stands as living proof of my wife's passion for another man. If Velvet would say that she was forced to his bed … but she will not. She loved him. The girl is proof of the love that existed between Velvet and the Grand Mughal Akbar.

"Perhaps if Jasmine were soft-spoken or plain I could find it in my heart to accept her; but she is neither, is she? She eclipses her mother in both beauty and in pride. She is the Mughal's daughter. She will always remember it. Her coming amongst us will, I fear, change everything."

"Aye," agreed his brother-in-law, the Earl of Lynmouth, "it will, Alex. It already has, but Jasmine is our own flesh and blood. I, for one, am glad that she has been restored to us."

"She is your blood, Robin," the Earl of BrocCairn said pointedly. "She is nae mine."

"Nonetheless, you will treat my daughter with kindness and with respect, my lord," Velvet told her husband.

"Your words have the unspoken ring of a threat to them, madame," he said. "I will do my best, but I will promise you nothing."

"At least when I went to the Mughal's bed, I believed myself widowed of you, and an imperial bride. You, however, knew that I lived, yet you could not keep your cock in your breeches long enough to await my return. Do not dare to judge me, or to judge the child of my union with Akbar. Was your lapse of fidelity any less than mine, Alex? And why should either of our daughters suffer for it?" Velvet said pointedly. Then, with a swish of her dark green skirts, the Countess of BrocCairn left the hall, her back quite straight, her head held high.

Without another word Alex Gordon arose and followed her.

"Well," said James Edwardes, the Earl of Alcester, to the remaining family members, " 'tis been a most interesting evening, has it not?"