“I do not, monsieur,” Monsieur Raoul replied, “but I am certain that my father will be able to enlighten you. I shall send for him at once!” Walking across the salon, he yanked impatiently upon the bell cord. “Send someone for my father,” he told the servant who came at his call. “Tell him it is urgent that he come immediately.” Then, turning back to his guests, he said, “We may as well sit, for my father will be napping at this time of day, and slow to rise. Will you have some wine?”
“Robert! Serve the wine,” the earl instructed Annabella.
“Aye, my lord,” she replied, striding over to the sideboard, whereupon a decanter and some small silver cups were set. She poured two cups, and then brought them to the waiting men.
“You may pour yourself some,” the earl said.
“You speak our language well and have a tone of Breton in your voice,” Monsieur Raoul noted.
“I learned the language at my mother’s knee,” the earl answered.
“Would it be so terrible if your rightful queen were restored?” Monsieur Raoul asked his guest, curious.
“It is the habit of the Fergusons of Duin not to involve themselves in politics. As you may know, the earls in my country are for the most part a contentious lot. We have not had a king reach old age in many years. The first James Stewart was assassinated, as was the third of that name. The second, the fourth, and the fifth James died fighting our mutual enemy, England. Only the first James was a man grown when he took his throne, but that was because on his way to safety in France as a child he was captured by English pirates, who sold him to their king. He did not return home until his late twenties. The power belonging to these child rulers is always usurped by the earls, most of whom are blood kin to the House of Stewart.
“Mary Stuart’s heart is good, but I tell you truly that the woman has absolutely no common sense,” Angus Ferguson said irritably. “Her choice of husbands, your own late king excepted, was abysmal. She is a woman ruled by her heart, which is not a wise trait in a queen. I am shocked and distressed by how she has been treated. But fleeing Scotland was her own choice. Her child is now crowned king, and while my sympathies may lie with Mary Stuart, my loyalty is to King James, child though he may be.”
“There is much sympathy for Mary Stuart here in France,” Monsieur Raoul said.
“She was well loved in her brief time as our queen.”
“She has great charm,” the earl agreed. He sipped slowly at the wine in his cup, thinking that it was a particularly good vintage.
Monsieur Raoul attempted to make more polite conversation. “Before you came to sell the château, had you come before, perhaps as a child?” he asked.
“Non,” the earl answered. “After she wed my fatherMamannever returned.” He concentrated on his wine once more. Where the hell was Monsieur Claude? he wondered.
He hadn’t made this desperate and swift journey from Scotland to pay a social call.
Silence fell upon the salon. Finally the door opened and Monsieur Pierre Claude hurried in. His son’s sigh of relief was hardly a quiet one. “Monsieur,” he greeted the earl. “I had scarce expected to see you again. What is this most urgent matter that I must be roused from my afternoon nap?”
“Did you or did you not purchase this château and its lands from me some weeks ago?” the Earl of Duin asked as he stood up.
“Of course I did,” Monsieur Claude responded.
“Then please tell me why the Earl of Moray, regent and guardian of King James, believes that I sold this property to the de Guise family. I have been accused of treason, of attempting to return Mary Stuart to the throne. How can this be if I sold you the property? Is it that you have some familial connection with the de Guises of which I was not aware? I have had to flee my country in an attempt to clear my name.”
Monsieur Claude looked so shocked by the earl’s words that Angus knew at once that whatever had happened, the Frenchman was totally innocent of any chicanery. “Monsieur, I have absolutely no idea of what has happened. Who would do such a thing? And why would they do it?”
“I have no idea as to the who or the why,” the earl answered.
“You find yourself in a very dangerous situation, monsieur,” Monsieur Claude agreed. “And you have a hidden enemy.”
“There were only three people involved with the sale of my mother’s lands. The magistrate, you, and me,” the earl noted.
“Do not forget the agent of the de Guise family,” Monsieur Claude reminded the earl. “I know for a fact that he did not leave the village for several days after our transaction was completed.”
“If you will give me your word that you had nothing to do with this deceit,” Angus Ferguson said, “then I will accept it. The magistrate must have the answer to this mystery. I shall go to him.”
“My lord!” Annabella spoke in their own tongue. “Our young host is nae comfortable wi’ this topic. I believe he knows something, and is afraid to speak. Ye must question him. Look! See how he turns his face away from his father and from ye.”
The earl nodded to her, and turned sharply to face Monsieur Raoul. “What do you really know of this situation?” he demanded. “You told me earlier that you had nothing to do with this matter. I believe now that you have lied to me.”
“Raoul!” His father spoke sharply. “What do you know of this?”
“I did nothing wrong,” the younger man said nervously. “A stranger, a man I did not know, came to me with a proposal. For my aid he would pay me in gold. But when I heard what he wanted, I refused. I did nothing wrong!”
“What did this man want?” the earl asked.
