“But if she doesn’t know I’m BrocCairn, will she allow a man, not her betrothed, to court her?”
“ ’Twill be nothing more than a harmless flirtation, Alex, and all maids enjoy a summer flirtation.” Robin laughed lightly. “ ’Tis good for them to think they are sowing wild oats before settling down. They are then more content in their marriages.”
Now it was Alex Gordon’s turn to laugh. “How in hell did ye get so knowledgeable these last few years?” he teased his friend. “I thought that I was the elder.”
“Aye, you are my elder by three years, Alex, but I’ve been wed, a father, and a widower in the time we’ve been separated.”
Robin sighed deeply. “Experience makes for knowledge.”
“I was sorry to hear about Alison,” Alex said quietly. “I wish I had known her, for she must have been quite a lass that ye mourn her so deeply, Robin.”
“She was a good girl,” his friend replied. “If you hadn’t been in France when we wed, you might have met her.”
“Aye, but my trip to France was for the crown, and I do precious little for the Stewarts as it is.” He smiled encouragingly. “Ye’ll find another lass someday, Robin.”
“Nay, I’ll not wed again,” came the firm but quiet reply.
Alex did not press his friend further, but instead asked, “Are ye not going to show me this London town of yours, Robin?”
“Aye, I’ll show you London, Alex, and once I’ve entertained the queen, you’ll go to court too. In a few days’ time I’m scheduled to give a huge fête. I don’t believe there has been one in this house since my father’s time. He always gave an enormous Twelfth Night celebration, a masque that every dressmaker in London both dreaded and delighted in, for the costumes were incredible to behold. Since his death, though, my mother has rarely used the house. She has one of her own next door that I suspect will go to Velvet one day.”
“When will I meet Velvet?”
“She’s coming to stay with me the day before the queen’s fête. Courage, Alex! I’ve known Velvet to throw things and to shriek, but I’ve never known her to bite.” While his friend glowered at him, Robin chortled mischievously.
Now, a few days later as he ushered his sister into Lynmouth House, Robin wondered if Alex could learn to court her and if Velvet would even give him the opportunity. She was so full of the delights of the court and of London, which was to be expected considering the quiet life she had led heretofore.
Velvet was enchanted by the elegance of her brother’s ancestral house, and her open admiration brought many smiles to the faces of the staff she encountered, most of whom had been there in her mother’s time.
“I have a guest staying with me, Velvet,” Robin said casually.
“Who?”
“Alexander Gordon, my Scots friend from the Sorbonne. You may remember me speaking of him. We met at the university, shared quarters, and then went on through Europe together.”
“Umm,” said Velvet, not particularly interested in her brother’s friend and far more concerned with the translucent porcelain bowls filled with red damask roses that adorned the main hall of the mansion.
“You will probably meet him tonight at dinner, Velvet.”
“Who?” Velvet suddenly realized that she had not been attending to her brother’s words closely enough.
“Alex Gordon, my friend.”
“I am sorry, Robin. Your house is so beautiful that I cannot stop looking. I promise by tonight I shall be more attentive, and I shall certainly be polite to your friends. Did Pansy come from Whitehall yet?”
“I’ll ask the housekeeper, and then I’ll show you to your apartments.” He led her into the library, poured her a light and fruity pale gold wine, and, ringing for a footman, sent him for the housekeeper. When she arrived a moment later, the housekeeper bobbed a curtsy and assured Mistress de Marisco that her tiring woman had indeed arrived safely with her mistress’s wardrobe, and was even now preparing a bath for her lady.
Velvet arose and, kissing her brother, allowed herself to be led off by the beaming housekeeper who was already regaling Velvet with stories of when her mama was a young bride in this house.
Velvet’s apartments were most spacious, consisting of an anteroom, a lovely light bedchamber that looked out over the river and the gardens, a dressing room, and even a small, separate, windowed room for Pansy. Pansy, though just fourteen, had been well trained by her mother. She was so clever with hair in fact that when her skill was discovered, Pansy became in great demand amongst the Maids of Honor. She would, to their annoyance, do none of them without her mistress’s permission, which meant that those in Velvet’s bad graces could expect no help from the loyal Pansy.
Velvet almost cried aloud in her delight at the sight of the steaming tub. Baths at court were few and far between. Even when she had a little time to herself, which wasn’t often, there was the matter of bribing the queen’s footmen to haul water, hopefully hot, to the tiny cubicle assigned to her when she was not on duty, or to the Maiden’s Chamber.
The air in this bedchamber at Lynmouth House was redolent with the scent of gillyflowers, and Pansy was hanging two large, soft towels before the fire to warm.
“Oh, I wish I could live here at Robin’s house whenever we were in London, Pansy! Just to be able to bathe every day again would be heaven.”
“Aye,” agreed Pansy. “I don’t think much myself of those fine ladies at court who use perfume to cover the stink of their bodies instead of good honest soap and water. Come now, Mistress Velvet, and I’ll help you to undress.”
