“How?”Kipp St.Denis was beginning to be interested in what his brother had to say. If it was possible to snatch a victory from his brother’s defeat, why not?
“What if Bartram were murdered, and the suspicion for his demise fell upon James Leslie and his new wife?” the marquis said.
“You would take a leaf from Somerset’s book then?” his brother said thoughtfully. “It would have to be very well thought out, Piers.”
“Aye, of course,” was the reply, “but do you like my idea? Do you think it possible, Kipp? We could remove both possible guardians for the duke of Lundy in one stroke!”
“That still does not mean that the king would give you the boy,” the practical Kipp said.
“Who else is there, brother?Who else?”the marquis exulted.
“Lady Lindley’s grandmother, the old countess of Lundy,” Kipp said. “She is the matriarch of her family. One of her sons is the earl of Lynmouth, another Lord Burke of Clearfields. Her son-in-law, the earl of BrocCairn, is the king’s own cousin. The king likes that fierce old woman because she flatters him. He could give the child to her or any of her children.”
“She would not live to see the boy grown,” the marquis said. “She is already past her time, and as for her children, the king already has their love and loyalty. He does not need to do anything for them, but he does need to do something for me to recompense me for my public humiliation and my great disappointment.”
“I wonder if you do not think yourself of more importance to the king than you really are, Piers,” his brother considered. “Villiers, your great rival, charms the king with his sweetness and good nature. You, on the other hand, behave like a spoilt child each time you do not get your own way. Up until now the king has chosen to overlook your infantile behavior, but how long will his goodness last? He is not so big a fool as many would believe.
“When Bartram advised against giving you a Crown property, what did you do? You sulked and whined until the king was forced into offering you something of greater value, in this case, a chance to win the hand of Lady Lindley, in order to silence you. He should not have done it, but he didn’t know what else to do to make you content again, so he gave both you and Villiers an opportunity.
“Your rival had the good sense to turn the king’s offer down graciously, declaring his heart engaged somewhere else, then coyly admitting his passion for the very wealthy Lady Katherine Manners. You, Piers, had no such good sense. Now, having failed to gain the prize offered, you have once again gone into a fit of the sulks. The king will certainly tire of your behavior, especially in light of Villiers’s sunnier disposition, brother.”
“Villiers is a low-born opportunist,” the marquis declared, angrily.
“Perhaps,” Kipp replied, “but he has great charm, and the king to my eye is fast falling beneath his spell.”
“Another reason for us to move quickly,” Piers St.Denis asserted. “If I am indeed losing the king’s interest, then I had best strike while I have yet the chance of getting what I want. Once I have the duke of Lundy in my possession, let Villiers have the king’s attention all to himself. It will no longer matter to me, Kipp. Perhaps I shall cultivate Prince Charles. He is furiously jealous of Villiers, you know, and he is the future, not old king fool. That’s it! I shall help to forge a bond between the young Charles and his royal uncle. When the elder becomes king, both shall thank me for it!”
“Now there is a better reason for obtaining custody of the boy,” Kipp said. “His mother is not really important, but the lad! He is real power, little brother!”
“We are in agreement then?”
“Aye!”
“Then let us consider how best to murder the earl of Bartram, while placing the blame on the Leslies of Glenkirk, Kipp.”
“Lady Lindley should be advised that the earl of Bartram is seeking to take her child from her,” Kipp suggested.
“Yesss!” the marquis enthused, “and either she or Glenkirk, or possibly both of them, should face down Bartram publicly. Then when he is found dead under suspicious circumstances, the suspicion will naturally fall upon the Leslies of Glenkirk. The king shall be encouraged to remove his grandson from such unwholesome people, andvoilà! I win!Even if Glenkirk and Jasmine are not charged with the death of Richard Stokes, the suspicion alone should do them in even as it did in Somerset and his vindictive wife.”
“It will take clever planning. How much time do we have?” Kipp asked him. “When is Glenkirk due back from Scotland?”
Piers St.Denis thought a moment. “I don’t really know, but he has been gone almost three weeks now. Perhaps in another ten days or more he should return. He was sent on a fool’s errand, after all.”
“I shall inquire about the court,” Kipp said. “Discreetly, of course. You will say nothing further about the duke of Lundy lest suspicion in this crime fall on you, Piers. You do understand that, don’t you? You cannot brag, even to Villiers, that you will obtain custody of the king’s grandson. No one knows but the king, I imagine, and no one else must know.”
Adali had more than doubled the guards watching over Greenwood House and its parklike grounds. Would there ever come a time when his mistress was completely safe, he wondered? Perhaps this Scotland would offer the sanctuary that they sought. He prayed it would be so.
The children had arrived from Queen’s Malvern, and but for the absence of James Leslie, Jasmine was happyagain. Her two eldest children were much like their father in features, although they both had her dark hair. India, however, had Rowan’s golden eyes, while Henry’s eyes were her own turquoise. It was her second daughter, Fortune, who seemed to be the swan in the duck’s nest. Fortune had bright red-gold hair, which Skye claimed had been the color of her own grandmother’s hair. As the child had Skye’s blue-green eyes, Jasmine had to assume her coloring came from her Celtic ancestors; and indeed she was very much like the children who had played in MacGuire’s Ford, the village on Jasmine’s Irish estates, and little like her elder siblings.
As for baby Charles Frederick Stuart, he was every bit a Stuart, with his auburn curls and amber eyes so like his grandfather’s, the king’s. Almost three, he visited the court with his brother and sisters dressed in a satin suit of orange tawny with wide collar of delicate Irish lace. He carried a miniature sword with a gold hilt decorated with tiny emeralds and topaz that had been made just for him. Sweeping off his soft-brimmed hat with its three white plumes, he bowed to the king and queen while his proud mama looked on, well pleased by her smallest child’s exquisite manners. Manners, Jasmine knew, she had not instilled in her baby. She silently thanked her grandmother.
Behind the tiny duke of Lundy, who by virtue of his seniority in rank led his siblings, came Henry Lindley, marquis of Westleigh; followed by his sisters, Lady India and Lady Fortune Lindley. The young marquis was dressed like his little brother, but his suit was turquoise blue satin, his custom-made sword studded with diamonds and aquamarines. His sisters were garbed in gowns of pink silk and lavender silk. As their elder brother bowed, they curtsied deeply, rising slowly and very gracefully to the silent approval of the queen and the court ladies, considered matrons.
“We are pleased to see ye once again, my dears,” the king said in kindly tones. Then he beckoned to his grandson. “Come here to me, Charlie-boy,” he said, and when the little boy had clambered within reach of his grandfather, James Stuart lifted him onto his lap, and reaching out drew his son, Prince Charles, into the child’s view. “This is yer uncle,” he told Jasmine’s smallest son. “Ye are named for him. He is Charles, too. One day, when I am dead, Charlie-boy, this Charles will be yer king, and ye must be loyal to him. Yer a Stuart, laddie, and we Stuarts may fight among ourselves, but we are always loyal to each other in the end.”
“Aye, sire,” the little boy responded. Then he said to the young prince. “Why you look at me?”
“Because you look so much like your father, Charlie-boy. Your father was my big brother, like Henry is your big brother,” the prince said. His eyes were filled with tears.
