Robin laughed. “You are a wise woman, sweetheart,” he told her. “And, you are beginning to sound like my mother.”
“Why, Robin, what a lovely compliment,” Angel Southwood said, her eyes twinkling, her pretty mouth turned up in a smile.
He chuckled. “With any other woman I might believe her to be sarcastic, but not you, my love. You actually are pleased I have said you remind me of Mama.”
Angel nodded. “She is a grand woman, Robin!”
“Aye,” the earl of Lynmouth agreed. “She is a grand woman, but dear heaven she is no less troublesome in her old age than she was as a girl.” He chortled again. “James Leslie is goingto have his hands full with those two! I do not envy him his journey.”
Chapter Two
James Leslie had left London with his servant, Fergus More, almost immediately. They had embarked from Dover as the earl of Lynmouth had suggested and were waiting upon the docks whenCardiff Roseput into Calais. Standing in the shadows they watched as the vessel was made fast, its gangway run up, the unloading done. Skye’s great traveling coach had made the short journey lashed to the deck of the ship. Now it was carefully rolled off onto the land to the doors of a large warehouse. Immediately the doors were opened and sturdy horses brought forth to be harnessed to the vehicle. The activity in and about the coach held little interest for the earl of Glenkirk once it had begun. He watched the gangway, and eventually Madame Skye came forth, the captain of her ship escorting her to her coach, her servants following.
But only when she was settled in the conveyance, and her two coachmen up on their box, did the earl say quietly to his companion, “Time to mount up, Fergus. We dare not lose the old lady.”
“There’s only one way off the docks, my lord,” Fergus replied. “Best we wait for her at the entry. Ye don’t want anyone seeing us following her, and there’s too many of her people here.”
James Leslie nodded, and the two men discreetly led their mounts from the shadows and off the docks. Shortly afterwardthe coach rolled onto the street of the town, and the earl began his secret pursuit. From Calais they followed the road to Amiens, and then on to Paris. James Leslie was surprised at how intrepid a traveler his quarry was, considering her age. She lingered but a night at any inn, even in Paris, where he almost lost her, for she did not overnight at a public place, but rather at the home of one of her late husband’s relations. Taking the chance that she would not depart before her usual hour the following day, he found a nearby inn where he and Fergus might get a hot meal and a bed.
“You was right,” Fergus said the next morning as they again picked up the chase.
“She’s no fool,” the earl replied. “She’s anxious to get there, but she knows she needs her rest, and so do her horses. There’s no real need for haste although she’s certainly not dallying.”
From Paris to Fontainebleau to Montargis to Orléans to Blois.
“She is headed for Archambault,” the earl said.
“We’ve been there before, and yer lady ain’t been there,” Fergus More noted. “Ye don’t think the old lady knows she’s being followed?”
“We’ve been too careful,” James Leslie decided aloud.
But they passed by the gates to Archambault, and through the château’s village. Finally, several miles from Archambault, the coach turned off on a narrow side road. James Leslie drew his horse to a stop. A light drizzle was falling, as it had been for the past few days. Silently he signaled with his hand for Fergus More to move forward carefully, so that their mounts were close together.
“This road can only go one place,” he said softly. “To some sort of dwelling. We will wait and give Madame Skye time to reach her destination.” He drew his cloak about him. It was damnably chilly.
“I saw a small inn back in the village,” Fergus said hopefully.
The earl of Glenkirk shook his head. “Nay, I want no word of foreign strangers reaching this place until I have learned what is at the end of this little road. We’ll wait here.”
Fergus sighed.
They waited, and after a half an hour the earl deemed it safe for them to move down the narrow track. Several minutes later they rounded a bend, and before them was a small lake. Artfully set upon the shore so that it was surrounded by water on three sides was an exquisite little château. Built of flattened, rough-hewn blocks of reddish gray schist, the château had four polygonal towers crowned with dark slate roofs resembling witches’ caps, one at each corner of the building. Access could only be gained through a tall, well-fortified chatelet, which was flanked by rounded corbeled towers that rose on each side of the entry arch. The earl stopped, enchanted by the beauty before him. He could see a garden on the fourth side of the chateau with low stone walls keeping out the forest that lay beyond. Even in deepest winter it was absolutely lovely.
“M’lord?” Fergus More spoke low.
James Leslie signaled silently for them to move forward. The horses’ hooves echoed as they crossed the drawbridge and entered the courtyard, where the great traveling coach was now being unloaded. The servants looked curiously at the two travelers, but two stable lads hurried forward to take their horses, and the earl entered the building, his man behind him.
“Jesu!” Thistlewood, coming out of the stables where he and his assistant had been seeing to their own horses, said. “That looks like the earl of Glenkirk!”
“I thought we was being followed once or twice,” said his companion, then staggered with the blow the coachman gave him.
“Ye daft lad! Why did ye not say something to me then?”
“I wasn’t certain of it,” the younger man replied, rubbing his head. “It wasn’t until we left Paris, and this is a strange country.”
Thistlewood shook his head wearily. Well, it wasn’t his business anyway. His old mistress would take care of any trouble that came their way. She always had, and age hadn’t slowed her down like it had the rest of them, he thought ruefully. “Let’s go to the kitchens and get something warm to drink and some food,” he told his assistant.
Adali saw James Leslie first as he stood in the hallway of the château directing the servants with the luggage. His smooth face indicated immediate surprise, which he quickly masked, but not before the earl had seen it.
