“Her Majesty is in a class by herself, my pet. No one compares with Elizabeth Tudor.”
“Bravo, my lord Earl! The perfect courtier’s reply,” she mocked mischievously.
“Iamthe perfect courtier, Skye, for only by the Queen’s favor can an ambitious man progress.”
“You are titled, intelligent, and wealthy,” she said. “Why should it matter to you if the Queen favors you?”
The question pleased him, for it showed she had intelligence. Oddly enough, he liked intelligent women. “The Southwoods have never been important in the history of England, Skye. We won our lands with William the Conqueror and our title with Richard, Coeur de Lion, in the Holy Land. That particular Southwood, upon returning to England, advised his family to remain in Devon and not go gadding about. We’ve taken his advice. Nevertheless, probably thanks to my merchant antecedents, I seem to be an ambitious sort, and Court is the place for ambitious men. The Queen has need of them.”
“And what of ambitious women, Geoffrey?”
He smiled as they walked through the wall gate into his garden. “What are your ambitions, my pet? If you seek a titled lover, then I’m your man.”
She ignored the remark. “I’ve just formed a trading company with Robert Small. It would help if I had a royal charter. Help me get it, and I’ll give you a two-percent interest in it.”
The Earl of Lynmouth was astounded. “By God, sweetheart, you are ambitious!” he laughed. “I’m not sure if I’m shocked or simply amazed.”
Skye was as surprised at herself as was Southwood. Where in Heaven’s name hadthatidea come from, and where had she gotten the nerve to suggest such a thing? Having ventured it, however, she decided to follow it through. “Well, my lord,” she said coolly. “What say you?”
She was serious, thought Southwood, amused. They had reached Lynmouth House by now, and he escorted her up the steps of the marble terrace into a small room with a lovely bow window that overlooked the river and the gardens. A candlelit table had been set up in the bow.
“Let us have some wine,” he said, pouring a Burgundy and handing her a goblet. “Now, mistress, what guarantee do you give me that I’ll see a return on my investment?”
“Captain Small was my husband’s partner in Algiers. Kha—Diego financed him, and our secretary, Jean Morlaix, kept the records. It was up to Robert to handle the rest of it, and he did. He was my husband’s partner for ten years. Nothing has changed. The Goya del Fuentes money will finance him. Jean Morlaix remained in my employ after Diego’s death. I do not need a royal charter, but it would help enormously. What do you risk, my lord? Neither gold nor prestige. You waste more money gambling. If you would prefer, set a price upon your aid and I will pay you. Then you risk nothing,” she finished scornfully.
“Ah vixen,” he chuckled, “so you would shame me into it, eh? You’re a damned hard bargainer, but I’ll see what I can do. After all, a two-percent share in a good trading company is not to be overlooked.”
Inwardly she heaved a sigh of relief and, with a casual air, sipped at her wine. His mouth twitched with suppressed amusement, for Geoffrey Southwood could appreciate a jest on himself better than most men. She had outbluffed him, the little devil. What a woman she was, he thought to himself. The thought of her in his bed sent shivers down his spine. For now, however, he would be a gentleman, for to move too quickly with this lady could cost him de Grenville’s barge as well as the beauty herself.
The footmen began serving the meal, which began with a silver bowl of cold, raw oysters. Skye happily cracked open the shells and swallowed half a dozen luscious, icy oysters. Southwood ate two to her every one. The next course was bright yellow mussels in white wine with a Dijon mustard sauce, thin slices of Dover sole on a bed of crisp watercress, accompanied by very thin slices of lemons imported from the south of France, and tiny pink shrimp broiled in herb butter. Skye ate sparingly but tasted of everything. The Earl had been quite right—his chef was a master.
The second course cleared away, the third was set on the sideboard. Three ribs of juicy beef with horseradish sauce and a large plump pink ham vied for attention alongside a platter of small quail, roasted golden and stuffed with fruit. Salad of new lettuces, venison slices in red wine, and a rabbit pastry rounded out the third course.
Skye directed a footman to serve her one of the quail, some ham, a slice of rabbit pie, and a dish of salad. The Earl, who sampled everything, looked on approvingly. “I like a woman who enjoys her food,” he grinned, his green eyes bright.
“But keeps her figure,” she shot back.
“Aye. A pretty woman is far more pleasant to gaze upon, sweetheart.”
“Is your wife a pretty woman?”
“Mary? Not really. She’s too tiny, like a Spanish dwarf. Her hair is no real color, her eyes a pale brown, her complexion, sallow. Was your husband handsome?”
“Aye,” she said softly. “He was very handsome. But more important, he was kind and good.”
“How long have you been widowed?”
“Two years now.”
“You should think of remarrying, Skye. You’re far too lovely to remain alone.”
“I know few people here, my lord. And besides, there is no one who could take my lord’s place.”
“If you don’t have friends in England,” he ventured, “why did you leave Algiers?”
“The Turkish governor decided I should make him an admirable wife. Since I did not choose to marry him, it became necessary to leave. None of my lord’s real friends would have dared to protect me. I was helpless against that powerful beast, but he got nothing of my lord’s, neither his widow nor his wealth! I shall build that wealth and make it even greater. My little Willow will be very wealthy.”
He smiled slowly at her. “You are an ambitious wench, sweetheart, but damme if I don’t approve! The Queen is ambitious too, and though some men may be fearful of such women, I’m not.”
