“Aye, ‘tis my nephew’s wish. I think he fears ye’ll nae come, royal summons or nay, if I dinna personally escort ye. So I will. I must get to Leeds anyway if I am to embark to France.”
“‘Tis dangerous to cross the waters in the winter,” Patrick Leslie noted.
“Aye, but I must go,” the earl told him. “I should hae gone months ago, but that ye are a hard man to convince. Still, a few days more or less at this point canna matter, can it?”
But the day before their departure, a fierce winter storm struck Scotland, howling through the highlands with determined and icy ferocity. The snowdrifts were blown high in its wake. It was several weeks before the inhabitants of Glenkirk Castle could possibly leave, for the tracks that passed for roads were blocked with several feet of snow. Only when the first mild winds of March came with their accompanying rains could they finally depart.
Patrick Leslie gazed back at his castle with a look of proprietary pride, but his daughter wept sudden tears. The Earl of Dunmor, seeing her sorrow, said, “What is it, lassie? Dinna be sad, for ye’ll enjoy the court, and soon ye’ll be safely home again.”
Janet Leslie wiped her eyes vigorously with her sleeve and then said low, “I suddenly had the strangest feeling, my lord, that ‘twould be a very long time before I see Glenkirk again. But surely that is nonsense!”
“Indeed, lass, it must be. Dinna look back. I never do, for there is nae point in it, ye know. Always look forward, Janet Leslie, for I promise ye the world is a wonderful adventure just awaiting ye!”
Chapter Nineteen
The Duc de Lambour said something quite interesting today, Tony.” Arabella Grey sipped her sweet pale wine from a slender silver goblet. She and Lord Varden had just finished the fine supper that Barbe had prepared, a game pie in a flaky crust, with large pieces of nutty truffles and delicate oniony shallots in a rich wine-flavored gravy.
“What?” Lord Varden, manners aside, dipped a crusty chunk of bread into the remaining gravy, and sopping it up, popped it into his mouth.
“He has been importuning me again to become his mistress,” Arabella replied, “and so I reminded him of his poor wife in Normandy. I said he should accept the example of the king’s fidelity to the Lady Margaret of Austria. The duc laughed and told me that betrothals are made to be broken. When I asked him what he meant by such a thing, he changed the subject. Do you think that important?”
“It could be,” Lord Varden said slowly, suddenly interested. “You see, Arabella, part of Lady Margaret’s dowry from her father, Maximilian of Hapsburg, are the provinces of Franche Comté and Artois, which the French very much want back. There is only one thing that could tempt Charles from this match.Brittany.You will have to find out for us, Arabella, if the king’s betrothal is about to be broken. King Henry would very much like that information. It is extremely valuable. Princess Anne of Brittany is to wed with Maximilian himself, now that he is widowed. Should that match be broken for France, then France would have a strong hand in European politics, which should not suit England at all.”
Arabella sighed. “There is only one way I am going to pry such information from the duc,” she said, and from the resigned tone in her voice, Lord Varden knew what would come next. “I must finally succumb to his advances. There seems to be no other choice in the matter.”
He took her hand. “We are friends, Arabella, are we not?” She nodded. “You are young and beautiful, and I believe of a passionate nature. What you must do, you do for England, and you must not feel guilt over it.”
She laughed, for his kindness was touching. “Tony,” she replied honestly, “what I do, I do in order that I may regain my lands. What kind of a woman does it make me, I wonder, that I would barter myvirtuefor land? Still, if I had it to do again, I should make my bargain with the devil himself if in the end I could get Greyfaire back for my daughter. Do men not often make such difficult decisions and bargains to obtain whatever it is they would have? You fight with swords, and knives, and artillery. A woman’s weapon is her intellect, though many would not credit such a thing. When intellect fails, however, a woman has her soft white body with which to fight, and if men have but one universal weakness, it is their lust.”
He stared at her, astounded. Until this moment he had thought of Arabella Grey as an innocent young woman, caught in a web of power and unable to free herself. He suddenly knew better. “You frighten me, Arabella,” he said.
She laughed again. “It is my curse that I am petite and delicate of form and coloring. Men think me helpless, Tony, but in this instance, isn’t that what we want?I am a virtuous woman,and it pains me that I must give up that virtue to gain my goals, but as God is my witness, I will! I have held the duc off as long as I dared, but he will shortly lose his interest if I do not yield myself to his passion. If this tiny scrap of information that I have provided you with can possibly lead to something that will help King Henry, and thus expedite my debt to him, then I will become the duc’s mistress.”
Lord Varden found himself admiring her determination. Her analysis of the situation was absolutely correct, though why he was surprised, he could not determine, for Arabella had never made any effort to hide her intelligence. “You will surrender gracefully, of course, my dear,” he said wryly.
“I shall acquiesce with such delicacy of feeling and innocent distress that he will believe himself to have won a mighty victory. I can only hope he finds me worth all the wooing,” Arabella teased her friend mischievously.
Now it was Lord Varden who laughed. “Never doubt yourself, my dear.” He chuckled. “You must consider too that the duc must also prove himself in the lists of love if you are to enjoy yourself as well.”
“I am not certain, Tony, that I should enjoy myself,” Arabella told him, but her green eyes were twinkling. “Somehow it does not seem right that having gone against all I was taught to believe, I enjoy myself.”
“If you cannot,” he told her, “you could displease the duc. Remember, my dear, that once you have committed yourself to an action, you must fully follow through. Have no regrets. Regrets are such a waste of time. To err is human, but to regret erring is to regret being human. It is a warm, flesh and blood woman the duc desires.
“Since you must compromise yourself, at least enjoy it. You do not intend making such behavior a habit, Arabella, and besides, I will wager that you have never known any man but your former husband. Men have more advantage over women in passion, for they are allowed to digress from the straight and chaste path without fear of condemnation, unless, of course, they make a spectacle of themselves. It is your duty to be naughty, my dear. Take advantage of it!”
“My lord, you are totally incorrigible!” Arabella told him, laughing. “I will admit to being curious, however, about other men.” She felt no guilt in not discussing her adventure with James Stewart. That was an entirely different thing, and it was not Lord Varden’s business.
“Then this, my dear, will offer you an opportunity to indulge your curiosity,” he answered her. “I have but one question.When?”
“The duc has asked me to celebrate Twelfth Night with him,” Arabella told Anthony Varden. “He is having a small fete, and has invited me to be his guest. The opportunity is perfect, for he will undoubtedly attempt to seduce me once again that evening.”
“Aye,” her companion agreed. “I suspect he will.” Anthony Varden did not tell Arabella that until she had spoken of it, he was totally unaware that the Duc de Lambour was giving a Twelfth Night fete. He would wager that no one else at court knew either. The duc was obviously making a last attempt to cajole Arabella to his bed. He considered whether he should tell her, and decided he must. He did not want her suddenly deciding to change her mind.
“I think, my dear, that you may be the duc’s only guest on Twelfth Night,” he said. “I have not been invited, and the duc always includes me when he invites you.”
“Indeed?”Arabella noted, her delicate eyebrows arching in surprise.
“This may be your last opportunity with him,” Lord Varden warned her.
