“Thank you,” Henry Lindley said, bowing again to his mother and then to Lord Leslie before running off.
India and Fortune were before the highboard now. “May we be excused too, Mama?” India spoke for them both.
Jasmine nodded. “Go and tell your great-grandmother that I will join her shortly.”
“Yes, Mama,” India said primly, and she and Fortune curtsied to the two adults.
“India,” Jasmine said to her daughter, “you do not need my instruction in the art of curtsying. You and your sister do it quite perfectly.” Then she smiled at her two little daughters, who, with delighted faces, tripped out of the hall.
“Your children love you,” he noted.
Jasmine looked surprised. “Why would they not?” she wondered.
“Many mothers among our class are not maternal,” he said. “They prefer spending their time at court and entertaining their own pursuits to mothering their bairns. That difficult task they leave to their servants, I fear,” he replied.
“My mother did not,” Jasmine said. “The mother who raised me was a Mughal princess, and while we had servants toserve us, never did Rugaiya Begum neglect me. I but follow her example and that of my other mother, Lady Gordon. One cannot expect one’s children to grow into responsible men and women if one does not see to their education personally, my lord. While I have allowed my sons and daughters the freedom to run while here at Belle Fleurs, I will see that they are brought up properly so that they will not embarrass themselves when we return home to England. They are still, after all, quite small. I want them to enjoy their childhood years and not be overburdened with adult matters before their time.” She arose from the highboard. “Shall we go and see little Charles Frederick, sir?”
He was impressed by her reasoning and her strong sense of responsibility toward her family. His memories of her were bound up in a single passionate night of love; of a stolen moment he had spied between her and Prince Henry Stuart at Whitehall several years back; of walks in her grandparents’ snowy London garden when it was believed he might wed her stepsister, Sybilla. So much time had passed, and he really didn’t know her at all, but he thought now that he wanted to know her. She was, after all, the woman he was to marry. James Leslie followed Jasmine to the nursery, where the king’s grandson, Charles Frederick Stuart, was in residence.
The child was his father’s image, all red-gold curls and wide blue eyes. He was garbed in a blue velvet dress trimmed in lace, and his face lit up at the sight of his mother. “Maaaaa!” he crowed, holding out fat, dimpled baby arms, and leaning from his nursemaid’s careful embrace.
“Charlie-boy,” Jasmine greeted her youngest son, and took him into her arms, kissing his fat cheek.
“Who he?” the wee boy demanded, pointing a finger at Lord Leslie, his eyes suddenly suspicious. “Who he, Ma?”
“Who is he,”Jasmine corrected the child. “This, my not so royal little Stuart, is Lord Leslie. Your grandfather, the king, hassent him to be my husband and your new papa. Please greet him as I have taught you, my son. Henry and your sisters have already shown Lord Leslie what fine manners they have. It is your turn.”
The princely bastard looked James Leslie directly in the eye, and, holding out a small hand, said, “How d’do, sir.” Then he smiled, showing his small pearly teeth, and the earl of Glenkirk saw Prince Henry Stuart all over again, and his heart contracted a moment.
Taking the little hand in his, he replied, “How do you do, my lord duke. I am honored to meet you at last.”
“Play ball!” Charles Frederick Stuart said, squirming to escape his mother’s arms and finally succeeding. He ran to fetch a small brightly colored wooden globe, looking hopefully up at the earl. “Play ball?” he repeated, his blue eyes bright.
Chuckling, James Leslie seated himself upon the floor, cross-legged. “Aye, laddie. We’ll play ball,” he replied grinning.
The little boy rolled the shiny orb across the floor to the earl, who stopped it neatly and rolled it back to him.
“I shall leave you to entertain each other,” Jasmine said. “Grandmama will be waiting.” She hurried from the nursery, leaving James Leslie to entertain her son. She had been surprised by his easy agreement to Charlie’s request to play ball. She had been touched to see them both seated upon the floor rolling the round toy back and forth between them. James Leslie did indeed have a heart, at least where her children were concerned. Absently Jasmine stroked the silky head of the spaniel she had once again picked up. “What do you think, Feathers? Is this is a man we can live with?”
The dog looked up at her with soulful brown eyes.
Jasmine moved along the corridor of the upper hallway to her grandmother’s bedchamber and, knocking, entered. Skye was comfortably ensconced in the large bed, her eyes closed.Daisy had just removed the breakfast tray. “Is she sleeping again?” Jasmine whispered.
“I am quite awake, darling girl,” Skye said, opening her eyes, “and well rested. I always sleep well at Belle Fleurs.”
“I wanted to put you in the master chamber last night, but Daisy told Adali no,” Jasmine began, putting the dog down.
“And quite right, too!” came the reply. “I do not need to be reminded of your grandfather, Jasmine. He is always and forever in my heart. To sleep in that magnificent bed he commissioned built for us when we were wed would have undone me entirely. I have no memories of this room. Some of the children slept here, but I do not recall which of them. It was so long ago. Adam and I were happy here.”
“I am so sorry, Grandmama,” Jasmine said. “I did not say it last evening when you arrived. I was so stunned by your news, and then by Lord Leslie’s arrival. I allowed my own problems to overwhelm me. I should have been at Queen’s Malvern for you, Grandmama. I should have been there for Grandfather. Now I shall never see him again.”
“Neither will I,” Skye said softly. “Of all of them, I loved him best of all, darling girl, but don’t ever say I said such a thing, for your aunts and uncles would be heartbroken.”
“I understand,” Jasmine said. “I loved my first husband, Jamal, and yet I loved Rowan Lindley better. No disrespect can be intended in such an admission.” The younger woman climbed onto the bed next to the older. “What am I to do about Lord Leslie, Grandmama?” she asked. “Oh, I know I must wed him now, and this morning he has shown himself to be kind and patient with the children, but what am I to do about him? He really is most arrogant. Do you know he told me he is descended from an Ottoman sultan, and is as royal as I am? Is it true, I wonder?”
“I wondered about his lineage,” Skye said, fascinated by her granddaughter’s revelation. “A Scot without a doubt, but there is that slight, almost imperceptible slant to those green eyes of his. A tiny bit of Tartar in the blood. Interesting, indeed. Now what to do about him indeed, darling girl. Since you must wed him, you have no choice but to win him over, I think.”
“Would the king not reconsider, Grandmama?” Jasmine wondered.
