“Ahhh,” the duke sighed. “A woman of experience as well as beauty. You are indeed a fortunate man, Patrick.”
“Our demeanor here will be discreet, Sebastian, as is fitting for a man who has run away with his lover. Let the English ambassador learn of our presence when he learns of it and report it to his master if he thinks it would be of interest to King Henry, but I doubt he will. As I have told you, I am not known to the English or the Scots courts. I am unimportant, as is Rosamund. Hence my value to King James.”
“You are remembered here, Patrick,” the duke noted.
“If the English ambassador should learn of my former position for Scotland, I will explain it by saying we are here because I thought this a romantic place to bring my lover. Does Lord Howard prefer the English winters? And Scots winters are far worse.” He grinned. It suddenly had occurred to Patrick that he was enjoying this adventure, and he had certainly not thought he would.
The duke laughed, seeing his companion’s grin. “I believe you like this game that you find yourself playing, Patrick,” he chuckled.
The Earl of Glenkirk nodded. “I think I do, Sebastian,” he agreed. “It has been a long time since I have enjoyed myself. I am always filled with a sense of my duty, but now I feel like a lad released from his studies. I remember I like the feel of the winter sun on my back and the fragrance of mimosas in February. I have not smelled mimosas since the day I departed San Lorenzo last.”
“Were you always this romantic, Patrick, or is it just that you are in love?” the duke teased him.
“I could not tell you, Sebastian,” the earl replied. “But, aye, I am in love.”
“I look forward to meeting her.” Sebastian di San Lorenzo smiled toothily. “Will you marry her?”
“If she will have me,” Patrick said, feeling that the wily duke need not be privy to the truth of his relationship with Rosamund. Perhaps the white lie he told would protect her from an attempted seduction. But he would warn her nonetheless of the duke’s easily aroused nature.
“Who is doing your wardrobes? Celestina, I assume,” the duke queried.
“Aye.”
“I well remember how you stole her from me,” the duke said. “Her first daughter is mine, you know. We gave her to the church to expiate our sin,” he said with a grin.
“Celestina had a generous nature,” Patrick remembered with a smile.
“She still does, but alas I am much too old to please her now. But, still, we remain friends,” the duke said. “I will see her girls work quickly so you may attend a small party I am giving in three days. It is to welcome the artist Paolo Loredano, who is coming from Venice. He has decided to spend the winter painting in San Lorenzo. It is a great honor to have him here. I hope to commission him to do our portraits. He is a member of the doge’s family, and has studied not only with Gentile Bellini, but his brother, Giovanni, as well. It will be a festive evening, Patrick.”
“Will the English ambassador be at your gathering?” the earl wondered aloud.
“Of course,” the duke said. “But you must come. If you do not, it will seem odd. Little is secret in San Lorenzo, as you well know. Lord Howard has probably already been informed of your presence. He will be curious, of course. You can allay his fears by coming with the Lady Rosamund and being lovers for all to see.”
“You have not lost your knack for intrigue, Sebastian, but you will keep the real purpose of my visit secret, of course,” the Earl of Glenkirk said quietly. “Sandwiched as you are between France and the Italian states, you would not want to be considered disloyal by either side, I know.”
The duke chuckled. “And eighteen years in your Highland eyrie has not lessened your acute abilities to conspire successfully, Patrick. As far as I am concerned, your visit is just what it appears to be. An older gentleman running away with his young lover.”
The earl winced. “Am I so old, then, Sebastian?” he asked.
“A bit younger than I am, I will admit,” the duke said. “You cannot be so old, however, for you have attracted a young lover. Or is she after your wealth?”
“She has wealth of her own,” the earl said. “Nay. We have, for whatever reason, fallen in love with each other, Sebastian.”
“Does your son know? What was his name? Adam!” the duke remarked.
“He knows nothing but that I am on a mission, sub rosa, in the king’s service,” the earl answered. “But I do not believe he would be distressed by my love for Rosamund. His wife, however, is a different matter. But he thought he loved her and the family was acceptable, so I had no cause for complaint,” the earl concluded with a small grin.
“How many marriages are made for love, my friend?” the duke said sanguinely. “Marriages are made for wealth and land and power. If there is more, one is fortunate. My late wife, God assoil her good soul,” the duke remarked, crossing himself piously, “was not a woman to inspire passion. She understood it and accepted her lot. She was loyal and devoted. She did her duty. I could ask no more of her, and I gave her my respect and loyalty in return. I found love in other places, although I wonder if there was not more lust than love.”
“It is usually more lust,” the earl said quietly. “But not this time. I am old enough, and hopefully wise enough, to know the difference.”
“Then I envy you, Patrick Leslie,” the Duke of San Lorenzo said. “Now, let us have some of our good wine and toast the memories we have made and the memories we will make.” He clapped his hands, and his servitors were immediately by his side.
Afterwards, the Earl of Glenkirk returned to the ambassador’s residence, walking in a leisurely fashion through the city. He stopped in the main market square to purchase a large and colorful bouquet of mimosas from a flower vendor. Walking on, he entered a narrow street, going into a jeweler’s shop, where he bought a delicately wrought filigreed golden collar dotted with pale green peridots. It would adorn the green silk dress very nicely. It was the first piece of jewelry he had ever obtained for Rosamund. He hoped that she would like it. The late afternoon was warm, and he was damp about his collar when he finally reached the top of the hill where the Scots embassy was located.
Lord MacDuff greeted him as he entered the building. “You have been to the palace? Come and tell me what has transpired between you and the wily fox, yon duke.”
The earl signaled to a servant. “Take these to Lady Rosamund,” he said, handing the woman the bouquet of mimosas. “Tell her I will see her shortly.”
