“Ah,” Philippa replied, “so you can be tempted. I was fearful that only your sheep could appeal to your heart, sister. Who is the gentleman? Is it possible he would make you a good husband? And why would he reject you? Unless, of course, his heart was engaged by another, but surely you would know that, and not be foolish enough to throw yourself at someone already taken.”
“He is not taken. He doesn’t even have a mistress. I asked,” Elizabeth responded.
Philippa closed her eyes momentarily to swallow back the admonishment that sprang to her lips. Her sister was really quite unskilled in the ways of polite society. “Will you tell me his name, Elizabeth?” she said quietly.
“He says he is unsuitable, and a marriage between us would not be allowed,” the younger woman replied.
“Does he?” Philippa was intrigued. How unusual for a gentleman to understand such a refinement. Now she was very curious. She cocked her auburn head questioningly at her youngest sister.
“It is the Scotsman, Flynn Stewart,” Elizabeth said, and then braced for the explosion sure to come at her revelation.
“He is handsome, I will admit,” Philippa said calmly, surprising her sibling. “But, of course, he is absolutely correct. He is not suitable at all. He is more a gentleman than I would have given him credit for, Elizabeth, that he would be so candid with you.”
“We have kissed,” Elizabeth told Philippa.
“But no more than kiss?” Philippa queried.
“Nay, no more.” Elizabeth sounded so sad that her sister almost hugged her.
“You are fortunate that the object of your unrequited affections has been so honest,” the Countess of Witton said. “There are many here who might have taken advantage of you. Why the Scot?” She was curious.
“I suppose because he is from the north, as I am. Because he is an outsider, as I am. Because he is charming, and does not make me feel so damned gauche,” Elizabeth said. “He has escorted me about and introduced me to Anne, who seems to be the only friend I have made. He has been kind, Philippa. Even you must admit there is no one here for me, as there was no one here for you once. Had you not realized that your heart and your fate were here at court, had not Uncle purchased the lands adjoining Brierewode, you would not have found your true love here. You did not want Friarsgate. But like our mother, I love it. That is where my heart lies. I thought Flynn might want to share my fate with me, but his loyalty is entirely to his brother.”
“Do you love him?” Philippa wanted to know.
“I don’t think so, but I like him, and I believe I could live together with him as man and wife. Passion can die, sister. A good friendship cannot,” Elizabeth said.
“Friendship is a strong basis for a lasting love,” Philippa said quietly. “But if his loyalty is to Scotland first he is not the man for you, or for Friarsgate.”
“There are plenty of mixed matches in the borders,” Elizabeth reminded her sister. “Our mother’s, for example.”
“But none of those involved are people of importance, or have great estates. Mother turned Friarsgate over to you because she saw how deeply you loved it. As much as, if not more than, she did. It allowed her to finally live at Claven’s Carn with Logan and raise our wild Scots brothers in their father’s house, where they belong. Our brothers will have no divided loyalties, Elizabeth. Nor should the man you marry one day. Friarsgate is English. You are English.”
“I am an old maid,” came the dour reply.
Philippa couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you wanted no man so you could rule over your kingdom unencumbered,” she teased.
“I did,” Elizabeth said, “but I am now realizing the importance of having an heir, and the necessity of having a husband to obtain one. I want to go home! I was not so confused at home. Everything is just as I like it at home.”
Philippa put her arms about her sister. “First you rest, and then you attend the birthday fete planned for you, and then you can pack for home,” she said, hugging Elizabeth. “Now go to sleep. You have dark circles beneath your eyes, and that will not do on your birthday. I will go with you to the fete, and wear that magnificent peacock costume that Uncle Thomas has had made for me, because he knew in the end I could not resist missing such an event. And then I shall go home to Brierewode, because I find the court not really to my liking these days, yet I do not wish to lose favor with the king lest it reflect upon my sons and their careers.”
“Life is simpler at Friarsgate,” Elizabeth said.
“Life is never simple.” Philippa smiled.
“It is when you are a country farmer,” Elizabeth replied.
“But not when you are a courtier,” Philippa countered.
They laughed with each other. They were so different that sometimes it seemed to Elizabeth it was hard to imagine that they were sisters. But they were. Philippa left her younger sibling, and Elizabeth closed her eyes to sleep. On reflection she had been very foolish with Flynn Stewart. She hoped it had not spoiled their friendship. She still thought he would make a fine husband. Her situation was not unlike Philippa’s had been all those years back, when the boy she thought to marry jilted her for a life in Holy Mother Church. Philippa had gone to pieces and behaved badly. But then, she had been dreaming of her lad for five years.I have just met Flynn Stewart, and my heart is not broken,she decided.
While she pondered all that had happened between them, Flynn Stewart had a momentary crisis of faith in the life he had chosen. Elizabeth’s words had pricked him. Why hadn’t his brother rewarded him with something other than a posting in England? Was he not worth a cottage somewhere? A house in Edinburgh? A wife with a goodly dower portion? A Scotswoman who would understand his loyalties, and concur with them? He knew he would hardly be in his royal half brother’s daily thoughts, but surely his service and loyalty all these years was worth something to King James V.
But James V was a cold and ruthless young man, although he had incredible charm when he chose to exercise it. And his smile could be most winning. He had learned to be hard in the years he had been in the wardship of his stepfather, his mother’s second husband, the Earl of Angus. When the Duke of Lennox, who had been James IV’s nearest kinsman, had returned to France, Angus had stepped in to oversee the boy king. He had had him declared of age when James V had turned fourteen, but it had been an excuse to rule in his stepson’s name. He kept the boy relatively uneducated, unlike his predecessors, who had all been highly educated men. He saw to his sexual initiation in hopes the boy would be kept so busy with his mistresses that Angus could manage the government. And Flynn watched as the earl attempted to ruin his half brother.
In secret he had forced James to practice his writing so that his hand would be legible when he signed papers. When Angus wasn’t there to observe he made him read the documents put on his writing table. “You’re the king,” he told his half brother. “You should always read everything before you sign it.”
“Why?” James demanded, their father’s eyes looking directly at him.
