Velvet was silent.
The king persisted. “At least tell me who your grandparents are. The ones who live nearby.”
“I cannot tell you,” Velvet said. “Why not?”
“Because they do not know that I am here. If they knew, they would send me to my parents, and my parents would send me to my husband, and I cannot allow that.”
“Why not?” the king demanded again. Suddenly he thought of something. “The child you carry! It is not your husband’s!”
“Of course it is Alex’s!” Velvet cried. “Why on earth would you think such a thing of me!”
“Then why don’t you want your husband to know that you are here, for despite your tale, I do not believe he knows where you are, does he?” Holding Velvet by the shoulders, the king looked down into her face. “Does he,chèrie!”
“No,” said Velvet, and she burst into tears again.
Henri held her against his chest and allowed her to sob her misery out upon his silken nightshirt. When her weeping had abated somewhat, the king said, “Now, Velvet Gordon, I want you to unravel this mystery you have woven about yourself. I will not take no for an answer, and if you refuse me, I shall take you toChenonceauxwith me and keep you there until you have told me the truth. I am most resolved in this,” he finished in a somewhat stern tone.
Velvet was silent again for some minutes, and then, sighing, she said, “I was forced to flee Scotland because enemies of my husband wanted to use me to entrap his cousin, a gentleman sought by the king for treason,—but there is no treason, monseigneur! My husband’s cousin is King James’s most loyal servant, if the king would but trust him. It is the king’s chancellor, Master Maitland, who seeks to turn the king against the earls in order to further his own power!”
“François Stewart-Hepburn!” said the king. “It has to be my old friend François Stewart-Hepburn!”
“You know Francis?” said Velvet, amazed.
“For more years,chèrie, than I care to admit to, I have known François. It is he, is it not? François is the only man in the entire world who so terrifies and enrages James Stewart. Their relationship is a long and a very troubled one, for James Stewart has always been jealous of his cousin.”
“He has outlawed him and confiscated all his estates,” Velvet said, “and it has been done out of spite, for the king covets the woman that Francis loves.”
“Ah,” said Henri of Navarre, his voice echoing his total understanding. “It is a woman! I would not have thought such a thing of James Stewart. He does not seem the type, and I have never heard it said of him that he is overfond of the ladies.”
“He pretends to be faithful to Queen Anne,” replied Velvet, “but he has coveted this particular lady for some time, and she fled from him to be with Francis, who wishes to wed with her.”
“Ahhhhh,” said Henri of Navarre again, “so not only has this lady refused the king, she prefers his greatest rival. The insult is formidable! No wonder your king is angry, but how,chèrie, did you get involved in this tempest?”
Velvet took a deep breath. “Monseigneur, I can say nothing more unless you give me your word that you will not betray me to James Stewart. France and Scotland are allies, I know.”
Henri smiled. “We are allies,chèrie, because it pleases us to occasionally aid the Scots against the English. It is the same with the Spanish. They enjoy aiding the Irish against the English. It is nuisance value. That is all. You have the word of a king,chèrie, that we will not betray you.”
“I should far rather have the word of Henri of Navarre, monseigneur,” returned Velvet. “The word of a king is not always reliable. Forgive me, for I mean no insult, but my mother has always said it, and she is the wisest woman that I know.”
The king smiled ruefully. “Your mother is indeed wise,chèrie.Very well, then, you have the word of Henri of Navarre that whatever it is you tell me will remain secret. I will not betray you, and I would certainly not betray my old friend, François Stewart-Hepburn. One favor, however, I would ask of you.”
“Anything, monseigneur!” Velvet vowed.
The king laughed.“Anything!”he said.
“Within reason,” Velvet amended.
“May we please get beneath the coverlet,chèrie?I am freezing in this nightshirt, which you have soaked through with your tears. I must get warm or I shall have an ague come morning.”
“Oh, dear! You must get out of that wet nightshirt, monseigneur!” said Velvet, her voice very concerned. Then she slipped from his arms and, running to a trunk at the foot of the bed, opened it and drew forth a second silk nightshirt. “This is my parents’ chamber,” she explained, “and my father’s night garment.” Handing him the shirt, she said, “I shall not peek. Tell me when you are ready.”
Gratefully the king changed into the dry nightshirt and then, getting beneath the coverlet, said, “Come now,chèrie, and join me. A lady in your delicate condition should not be chilled.”
It did not occur to Velvet to ask him whether he would behave this time. She simply assumed that he would. Settling herself comfortably next to him, she began her tale, “Francis secretly came north into the Highlands in late summer to meet with the Earl of Huntley. Francis stayed with us a night before going on to Huntley, with my husband and his men-at-arms riding along to protect him. My husband is Francis’s cousin, but he is also a cousin of Huntley’s and of the king, too.”
“Who is your husband?” interrupted Henri of Navarre.
“My husband is Alexander Gordon, the Earl of BrocCairn,” said Velvet. “Alex has but one sibling, his sister, Annabella, and it was her husband, Ian Grant, who decided that if he kidnapped me, he could force Francis into giving himself up. Ian would then turn him over to Maitland and collect the king’s reward.” Then she went on to tell him of her horrible captivity in Leith and lucky escape with Pansy from Ranald Torc and Ian. “I had to hide somewhere where the king could not find me until he grew tired of seeking me,” Velvet wound up her tale, “or until he and Francis made up again, although this time I fear they will not reconcile. Because I am considered English, I knew that no one in Scotland would consider looking in France. They do not know ofBelle Fleurs, and so I came here.”
