“The boy is right,” the queen interjected softly.
“Aye, my dear lord, he shows wisdom for one so young,” Villiers said, ignoring the fierce, irritated look the prince shot him, which plainly said that he didn’t need, or want, George Villiers’s help. Villiers forced back the smile that threatened to crack his lips. Prince Charles was jealous of him, he well knew, but eventually he would win over the younger man. James Stuart was nearing the end of his life, but Charles Stuart would be England’s next king. George Villiers intended to be on his good side when he inherited the throne.
The king heard them all. He looked at Jasmine, her royal blue skirts spread about her as she knelt before her, her dark head bowed. What a troublesome wench she was, he thought, but his son was right. Henry Stuart had adored her. He would want her happy, and if Glenkirk was the man to make her happy, then so be it. “Verra well, Lady Lindley,” he grumbled at her. “Glenkirk it is, and God help the puir man wi such a headstrong lassie for his wife. Still, I suppose he knows what he is getting. But ye may nae go from court until he returns from Scotland. I want to see my grandson again before ye both return north.” James Stuart held out his hand to Jasmine, and she kissed it gratefully.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said. “Thank you!”
“Steenie, help her up, for pity’s sake, and dance wi her. Lady Manners won’t mind as it is a royal command. I hae had enough for one night, and I’m going to bed.”
“But my dearest, dearest lord!” The marquis of Hartsfield had finally regained himself, and stood before the king, woebegone.
“Dinna fret, Piers,” the king said. “We’ll find ye another nice lassie wi a good income.”
“But I want Lady Lindley, sire!”
“Ye canna hae her, Piers. Now cease yer whining, laddie, and trust yer old da to make it right, eh?” He got to his feet. “Come and help me to my bed, Piers. I am exhausted wi all this fuss.” He leaned heavily on the younger man.
“I’ll go with you,” the queen said, standing quickly, and offering the marquis a patently false sympathetic smile.
“I don’t want to dance another step, Steenie,” Jasmine told him. “Escort me to my barge. My servant is waiting.” She took his arm as they walked through the crowded hall. A path opened before them, and the whispers, quite discernible, hummed all about them.
“Well, my dearie,” Villiers said with a chortle as they were finally clear of the hall, “you have caused quite the most delicious scandal this night. What on earth made you do it? It was a dangerous ploy that very well might have gone against you.”
“I don’t like St. Denis to begin with,” Jasmine told the king’s young favorite, “but he attempted to make love to me, and I found it most distasteful. I knew then I could not play this game another moment until my Jemmie returned. Imagine keeping St. Denis completely at bay. The king did say, after all, that the choice was mine.”
“And a damned good thing he did,” Villiers noted. “Piers St. Denis appears to be totally obsessed with you, madame. I suspect he would have done almost anything to have you had the king not made the decision yours and yours alone.”
“Thank you for your help, Steenie,” Jasmine said as they gained the royal quai, and her barge was rowed quickly forward. “I do not forget my friends, nor does my family forget those who have rendered them a great kindness.” She took Adali’s outstretched hand and stepped down into her barge. “Hurry back to the king, my gentleman of the bedchamber, lest the dreadful St. Denis steal a march on you.”
“Not while the queen is there,” Villiers replied with a smile. He kissed her hand. “Good night, Lady Lindley. It was a fine match, excellently played. You have my admiration. Your skirts, spread so artfully about you, was indeed the crowning touch.” He turned and walked away, chuckling.
Jasmine laughed as she took her seat and watched him go. A very clever young man as she had earlier noted. He missed nothing. “Adali,” she said, “we are finally free of the marquis of Hartsfield!” And then she proceeded to tell her servant the details of her evening, unaware Adali had been in the hall and seen her pleading with the king.
“Shall we be able to return to Queen’s Malvern then, my lady?” Adali asked her as he draped a cloak about her shoulders to keep the chill from the night river wind from her.
“The king has requested that I remain until Jemmie returns so he may see the duke of Lundy again,” she replied.
“With your permission, my lady, I shall hire extra men-at-arms to patrol Greenwood and watch the house. The marquis of Hartsfield did not appear to me to be a particularly good loser. You have publicly repudiated him. He will, unless I miss my guess, be seeking revenge.”
“It’s just a few weeks, Adali, and then we shall be gone,” Jasmine reassured him, “but it does no harm to be cautious. Hire the extra men to guard the house and the grounds.”
“A few weeks and she will be gone, my lord,” Piers St. Denis said to the king. “I beg you to change your mind and give her to me!”
“Nay, Piers love, I gie my word too publicly to take it back, and I dinna think I would anyhow. Lady Lindley is too sophisticated for ye. Leave her to Glenkirk. ’Tis better that way.”
The marquis of Hartsfield pouted angrily, turning his handsome face from the king in a show of both defiance and bad manners.
“We’ll find you a lovely young wife with a fortune,” the queen promised him. “ ’Twill make up for your disappointment, I’m certain.”
“No!” St. Denis said vehemently. “If you would make me happy, my dear lord, and if I cannot have Jasmine Lindley, then give me the duke of Lundy to nurture and protect. Then I will know that I have not lost your favor. Do not saddle me with some young innocent and send me away, I beg of you!” He caught up the king’s hand and kissed it passionately.
“What? Ye want my grandson’s custody, too?” the king said.
“Too?” Piers St. Denis repeated.
“Aye. Yer the second to ask me for the bairn. The earl of Bartram came to me just the other day with the same request, Piers.”
“Surely you would not give the boy to that man, my dear lord?” Piers St. Denis felt his pique fading away as his sense of survival and strong ambition took center stage.
“He hae served me well,” the king noted, “and ’twould be a fine retirement present if I decide to remove my grandson from his mother’s care, and I hae not yet made that decision, my sweet laddie. Dinna fret now. I will gie ye something verra nice to make up for yer loss.”
“What has St. Denis lost, my liege?” George Villiers asked, coming into the king’s bedchamber.
“Lady Lindley,” the king replied.
“Why, sire, he never had her in the first place,” Villiers chuckled. “ ’Twas a question of a rather mangy cat looking at a beauteous queen.”
The king chortled. He simply couldn’t help it. The queen was also helpless to her mirth and giggled, to the marquis’s discomfort.
“Yer a bad boy, Steenie, to tease poor Piers so,” the king scolded him, halfheartedly. “He hae suffered a great loss.”
“Aye, the loss of Lady Lindley’s great fortune!” Villiers mocked his rival, grinning impudently.
The marquis of Hartsfield’s hand went to his sword, and then it fell away. To fight in the royal presence was a treasonable offense. “I harbored a great affection for the fair Jasmine,” he said stiffly.
“And a greater affection for her jewels, I’ll wager,” Villiers riposted. “When you danced with her tonight you looked not at her, but rather at that incredible necklace of sapphires she was wearing.”
“You would not dare to speak to me outside of the king’s hearing in such a manner,” the marquis snarled, “for you know I should avenge my honor, which you are so easily sullying, Villiers.”
“Come, then,” George Villiers challenged, “and let us go outside, my lord. I shall be glad to fight you.”
The king looked genuinely distressed, and the queen, alarmed.
&nb
sp; “I should not dirty my hands with the likes of you, Villiers. A marquis of Hartsfield does not do battle with a commoner of no standing, such as yourself.” Then he bowed to the king. “With Your Majesty’s permission I shall withdraw.”
“Aye, go home and settle yer nerves, Piers, my darling,” the king said. “I’ll think on what ye hae asked me.”
The king’s gentlemen got him ready for bed, and when he was settled, and they had left the chamber, the queen came and sat by his bedside. “You will not give little Charles Frederick Stuart to Stokes, or St. Denis, will you, Jamie? He should stay with his mother.”
“Aye, and I know it, Annie,” the king told her. “Am I nae called the wisest fool in Christendom?”
“Then why did ye not tell St. Denis that?” she asked.
“Och, Annie, he would only sulk more and niggle at me over it. Ye were right. I should hae nae gien him the opportunity to court Lady Lindley, especially after she had agreed to wed wi Jemmie Leslie. I but raised his hopes, then I went and made it worse by sending Jemmie off to Scotland, which distressed Jasmine. He was seriously embarrassed this evening when Lady Lindley said so loudly and so publicly that she would nae hae him for her husband.”
“He deserved it,” the queen said. “I saw him from across the hall mauling her in an alcove. Jasmine was not pleased by his quite boorish attentions, Jamie.”
“Ahh, so that is what set her off,” the king observed. “Well, ’tis water ’neath the bridge now, Annie. Dinna fear. I dinna intend taking our grandson from his mam and Glenkirk. They will raise him well. Stokes is a fool with his talk of Lady Lindley’s unchaste life; and my sweet Piers underestimates me in that he thinks I dinna realize that he wants our grandson to revenge himself on Jasmine. He also thinks the bairn will gie him power here at court and over us.” The king laughed, and then he said, “Perhaps he foretold his own future tonight, Annie. I believe I am grown verra tired of being torn between him and Steenie. The latter is far more biddable, do ye nae think? He was wicked to tease Piers so unmercifully. Piers doesna hae a sense of humor where he, himself, is concerned.”
“Then you do intend to send St. Denis away!” Queen Anne could scarcely keep the excitement from her voice.
James Stuart nodded. “I am growing old, Annie. I want an absence of strife in my life. ’Tis nae an easy thing to be a king. I hae no Parliament to irritate me right now. There is peace wi Spain and France. True, the Puritans and the Scots Presbyterians seek to cause me difficulty, but I believe I hae them well in hand. Bessie and her Frederick seem happy if her letters are to be believed. As for our bairn, Charles, eventually he may make England an king. Not the king our Henry would hae been, God rest his sweet soul, but we hae no other choice, Annie, do we?
“But there are those about me, as there are about all kings, who would make unreasonable demands. Bartram’s time is over, and his usefulness to me finished. He must go wi my thanks, and something that will make it appear that he is nae out of favor, just pensioned off. There is nae doubt in my heart and mind that poor Sir Thomas Overbury was murdered, and more than likely the earl and countess of Somerset were behind it. He and his Frances will remain in the Tower and out of my sight for the present. Eventually I will pardon them, but they will be exiled from my court when that day comes. I dinna want to see either of them again.”
The king sighed deeply, sadly. “Ahhh, Annie, I gie my Robbie so much and look how he hae betrayed me. I now see that Piers St. Denis is cut from the same cloth. He is blindly ambitious, and that, I realize, makes him dangerous. We’ll find him a good wife, then he must go back to the country estate from whence he came. I need a more amenable laddie about me. Och, I know Steenie is ambitious, too, but his nature is sweeter and more obedient. When he hints at me for a wee something, I feel if I dinna gie it to him, he would still love his old da. He reminds me a wee bit of our puir Henry.”
“Unlike St. Denis,” the queen said meaningfully. “You’re a wise old bird, Jamie, to give St. Denis an heiress bride and send him home. You’ll have no peace until you do, particularly once Glenkirk returns from Scotland and marries Jasmine.”
“Jemmie will nae stay at court. He hae told me that,” the king said to his wife. “He says he’ll spend the autumns and winters at Glenkirk and the spring and summers at his wife’s home. There is the young marquis of Westleigh to consider. He needs to be on his holding at least part of the year. And Jemmie wants bairns of his own again.”
“Aye,” the queen replied. “His sons would be almost grown had they not died with their poor mother all those years back. Such a terrible thing, Jamie, and they never caught the murderers, did they?”
The king shook his head in the negative. “God knows them, Annie, and they will face his retribution one day, if they have not already done so. He will render a harsher judgment, I think, for those men who attacked a nunnery and burned it to the ground after having raped and murdered the women and children within. ’Twas a dreadful crime.”
The royal couple were silent a moment, remembering James Leslie’s sweet first wife, Isabella Gordon, and their two sons. then the queen arose from her husband’s bedside, leaning over to give him a tender kiss.
“Good night, my dear,” she said. “God give you a good rest.” She curtsied to him and backed from the bedchamber. “The king will sleep now,” she told the gentleman of the bedchamber, who remained on duty for the night. “See he is not disturbed except for an emergency.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the gentleman said, opening the door to the king’s apartments so the queen might pass through into her own apartment next door. “Good night, madame.”
“Good night,” replied the queen, not looking back as the door shut behind her.
“Young Villiers is waiting for Your Majesty,” said Lady Hamilton, one of her ladies-in-waiting, coming forward to greet the queen. “I put him in your private closet, madame.” She curtsied.
“Very good, Jane. I will see him first, then I wish to prepare for bed. It has been a very long day.” The queen passed through the salon into the privacy of a small, paneled room, where George Villiers was awaiting her. Seated by the fire toasting his toes, he jumped quickly to his feet as she entered, and bowed. “Well, Steenie,” the queen said with a small smile, “St. Denis may be on his way home before long. You will say nothing to the king, however, until it is an absolute fact. He is just as apt to change his mind as not, you know.”
“The secret is safe with me,” George Villiers replied, his heart racing with his impending victory. He would not disappoint the king as his rival had; or Robert Carr, either.
“If you behave yourself,” the queen continued, “and I do mean you must be totally loyal to His Majesty, and a total model of decorum; you could be a viscount by Christmas, Steenie. And after that, who knows? The earl of Rutland and his daughter will be very pleased to see you advancing yourself, eh?” The queen smiled coyly.
“I would one day be greater than Rutland,” George Villiers said. His dark eyes danced, and his handsome face bore an intense look.
Queen Anne laughed. “How bad you are, Steenie, for all you look like an angel. I suspect if you continue to play the game as well as you have so far, that one day you may indeed rise higher than the earl of Rutland. So high, in fact, that it will appear as if you did him a great favor to marry his daughter at all,” the queen finished.
“Nay, madame, I should marry Kate one day even if she were not possessed of a great fortune,” George Villiers declared.
“But how fortunate it is for you, my dear Steenie, that she is possessed of a great fortune,” the queen remarked knowingly.
George Villiers grinned. “Aye, madame, it is, isn’t it?”
And they both laughed.
Chapter 11
“She has refused me! Most publicly! I am a laughingstock at court, Kipp! The bitch must be punished for her temerity, and, by God, I will see her pain!” The marquis of Hartsfield tore off his coat, flinging it across the room, and taking th
e large silver goblet of wine his brother offered him, gulped it.
“You knew the chance that she would have you over Glenkirk was slight,” Kipp St. Denis reminded his brother. “Oh, I know you said you would win, but dammit, Piers, you had to know there was next to no chance she would change her mind. You are no fool, brother. Now tell me what the king said.”
“He said he would find me a rich young wife, or rather the queen said it. There’s another bitch, Kipp. Hand in glove with Villiers, if I don’t miss my guess.”
“A wealthy wife, handpicked by the king, is no shabby gift, little brother,” Kipp attempted to soothe his sibling. “Think of the fun we’ll have with her, eh?”
Piers St. Denis gulped down the contents of his goblet and handed it to Kipp for a refill. “Fun with some wellborn, and no doubt pious, virgin? One night, and she’ll be beaten, Kipp. Where is the fun in that? Jasmine Lindley would have been a challenge to break because she has fire, passion, and experience. No virgin can compete with such a woman.”
“You cannot refuse the king’s choice of a wife for you, Piers,” his brother warned him. “Whoever she is she’ll be good for getting your heir on, if nothing else. We will have plenty of other women to amuse ourselves with, as we always have.”
“I asked the king for her son,” the marquis of Hartsfield told his brother. “I told him if he wanted to make me happy, and I could not have Jasmine, I wanted her son to nurture.”
“You are mad!” Kipp exclaimed, astounded by his sibling’s boldness.
“Nay! If I have the boy, I have power over Jasmine even if she won’t marry me. Her weakness is her children, Kipp. She will have to do what I want to protect her child even if she is Glenkirk’s wife. I shall openly make the bitch my mistress and destroy that marriage she so desires. And, as guardian of the king’s only grandchild, albeit born on the wrong side of the blanket, I will have a certain power over James Stuart, too.” His bright blue eyes gleamed wickedly in anticipation of his victory.
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