Wild Jasmine (71 page)

“I will escort you, madame,” he told her, his hand slipping beneath her arm once more.

Jasmine realigned the bodice of her gown with as much dignity as she could muster. “I am ready,” she said.

“Are you?” he murmured, bending to kiss the lobe of her ear.

“
Stop it!
” Strength flowed back into her limbs with her anger, and Jasmine stamped her foot. Two bright spots of pink colored her cheeks.

“Excellent, madame!” he said with a chuckle. “You have fully recovered. Did you know that I quite adore your little mole? I shall kiss it the next time that we meet, which will, I hope, be soon.”

“I do not know how long I will remain with the court,” she quickly replied. “I have my children at home. I have never yet been separated from them until now. I miss them. I think I shall return to Cadby within the week.”

“I shall forbid it,” he answered her with a laugh. “I want you here at court where I may enjoy your company, my sweet marchioness.”

“I am the
dowager
marchioness,” she responded sharply.

“You are far too young to be a dowager,” he chuckled. “Ahh, BrocCairn, I return your lovely stepdaughter to you, Cousin. She is to take part in my mother’s masque next week. I shall be calling upon her so we may rehearse our lines together. You will see that she is available to me when I call? You are staying at your mother-in-law’s house on the Strand as usual? Greenwood, I believe?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the Earl of BrocCairn replied, bowing politely to the prince. “We are at Greenwood.”

“Madame.” The prince bowed over her head, and then left them.

Alexander Gordon raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Indeed, my dear Jasmine, it would seem you have made a conquest, and a very,
very
important conquest at that. Henry Stuart has certainly never before shown such a public interest in a woman. You may consider yourself honored.”

“
Honored
?” Jasmine looked slightly appalled. “He has made it quite clear, my lord, that he wishes to make love to me. I cannot countenance such a thing! I am not some light-skirted creature with low morals. I did not come to court for this!” Her cheeks were pink with her outrage, and the Earl of BrocCairn thought that his stepdaughter looked particularly beautiful at this moment.

“If Prince Henry wishes to make love to you, Jasmine,” the earl said slowly, his deep voice so low that only she could hear him, “you do not have any choice but to gracefully acquiesce, my dear. You have no maidenhead, nor a husband’s honor to protect; and Henry Stuart will be England’s next king. It would not be politic, I fear, to refuse him.”

“Are you telling me, my lord, that I have no choice in the matter? What of my honor? I am an emperor’s daughter, and every bit as royal as this prince!” Jasmine declared vehemently.

The Earl of BrocCairn took his stepdaughter’s hand and patted it comfortingly. “You know that I am related to the king, my dear, but do you know how the relationship came about?”

Jasmine shook her head.

“The king and I share the same grandfather, King James the Fifth. My grandmother, Alexandra Gordon, was his mistress for a time. My father, Angus Gordon, may God assoil his good soul, was the result of their passionate union. Stuart kings, and Stuart princes, are notorious for their loving natures. Why, it is said that they are related to half of Scotland or more.” The earl chuckled. “There is no shame in being beloved by a Stuart, I assure you. If indeed this is what Prince Henry desires, you must accept his suit graciously without protest. It would not be very wise, Jasmine, to cause a scandal, or to embarrass the prince.”

“If I remove myself immediately from the court,” Jasmine told her stepfather, “then the matter is ended, and no one the wiser. I shall leave tomorrow for Cadby, my lord.”

“You will not,” he replied, and when she gasped with surprise, Alexander Gordon said, “The prince has made it quite
plain that he wishes you to remain here with the court, Jasmine. Neither of us misunderstood him. He has made me a direct party to this matter. If I allow you to go, I will be guilty of disobeying the king’s son. I cannot be. Now that the prince has noticed you, the very well-being of our family depends on his royal goodwill. You cannot simply think of yourself, Jasmine. You have
all
of us to consider.”

“That is not fair!” she cried. “I did not ask for this
honor
, and I do not want it, my lord!”

“What is the matter?” Velvet joined them, looking worriedly at her daughter. “Jasmine, my love, you look pale. Are you all right?”

“No, Mama, I am not all right,” Jasmine replied, distraught.

“Prince Henry seems to have become enamored of your daughter, madam,” the earl told his wife. “She is not pleased about it.”

“Oh, dear,” Velvet said nervously. “How enamored, Alex?”

“Totally enamored, my darling,” he answered her.

“Ohhh dear!” Velvet exclaimed. “What are we to do, then?”

“We can do nothing,” he said. “Jasmine, no matter her strong objections, will have to accept the inevitable. What is so terrible? She is not being asked to give up her life, or her wealth. A handsome, charming young man wishes to make love to her. I do not understand all the fuss being made over it,” the earl concluded testily.

“I shall leave for Cadby tonight!” Jasmine declared desperately.

The Earl of BrocCairn said nothing in response to his stepdaughter’s dramatic proposal. Instead, when they returned to Greenwood, Alexander Gordon gave orders to the household staff that Lady Lindley, who was suddenly unwell, was to not leave the house. He then personally locked Jasmine in her apartments with Toramalli and pocketed the key, to his wife’s deep distress.

“Jasmine will never forgive you for this, Alex,” Velvet fretted. “She is a princess born and raised. How can she tolerate being asked to be the prince’s whore? It really is quite untenable, my lord.”

“Being a royal Stuart’s mistress is hardly considered a deep dishonor,” the earl insisted to his wife. “Give her a few days and she will think better of it, I am certain. This is not India, after all.”

* * *

“Would you want this for Sybilla?” Jasmine shouted at her stepfather the following day, when he came to reason with her.

“Placed in your situation, Sybilla would know her duty, and do it, damnit,” Alexander Gordon said heatedly.

Jasmine threw a vase of roses at his head, which the earl ducked as he swiftly retreated.

“She is certainly your daughter, madame, with her hot temper,” he told his wife in the hallway. “I was reminded of our youth as I fled that vase. It seems I remember similar incidents between us.”

“And despite all the years I have been your wife,” Velvet teased him mercilessly, “you have learned nothing about dealing with the women in my family, Alex. I shall remonstrate with my daughter. I would not have missed my target.”

Henry Stuart ended the contretemps by coming to call at that moment. When Jasmine refused to come down to receive him, he was directed to her apartments by the earl, who accompanied him.

“How dare you!” Jasmine said furiously at their appearance. “Leave my apartments this instant, my lords! I am not receiving today!”

“Toramalli, come with me,” the earl ordered the tiring woman.

“I am sorry, my lord,” Toramalli replied, “but I take orders from no one but my mistress.”

Alexander Gordon advanced upon the small woman, and picking her up about the waist, hauled her kicking and shrieking from her lady’s presence. Henry Stuart closed the doors to Jasmine’s apartments behind them, and turning the key in its lock, slipped it into his pocket.

Jasmine watched him wide-eyed. “If you come one step near me, I shall scream!” she told him.

“Why?” he asked her, moving past her to seat himself by the fire. “May I have a goblet of wine, madame?”

If his intent was to make me feel foolish, Jasmine thought, he has certainly succeeded. “What are you doing here, my lord?” she demanded.

“We have our lines to practice for the masque next week,” he said blandly. “Mama says to tell you that Master Jones and his seamstress will come to Greenwood tomorrow to fit you for your costume.” He smiled at her, and then said, “My wine, madame. I am fair parched.”

Jasmine moved cautiously around him and poured a deep
red wine from a crystal decanter into a small chased-silver goblet. Handing it to him, she stepped quickly back, standing silent as he drank.

“Ahhh,” Henry Stuart said, swallowing his wine. “This is a most excellent vintage, madame. Who is your wine merchant?”

“The wine comes from my great-grandparents’ estate in France,” she answered him. “I will arrange to have several barrels sent to Your Highness. The estate is called Archambault.”

“Come and sit by me, Jasmine,” he said, motioning to an upholstered stool by his chair.

She shook her head, remaining where she was. “What do you want of me, my lord?”

“Many things,” he said quietly.

“You must be specific with me, my lord. I do not wish to misunderstand you. My family and I have been quite at odds over our meeting at Whitehall last night. I do not think I am the sort of person to enjoy court, and I would go home to Cadby, but my stepfather will not allow me to go. He says I cannot offend Your Highness. He says that you obviously desire me, and ’tis an honor.”

“I do desire you,” Henry Stuart responded with a small smile. She was so charmingly serious, he thought. He had never before met a woman like Jasmine. “You, however, my love, do not consider my interest in you an honor, do you? Why is that?”

“I am an Imperial Mughal princess, my lord,” she replied, knowing that he, a prince born, would certainly understand.

He did, but said, “I have never taken a mistress before. Oh, I have had my share of women, the first when I was eleven, but I have never fallen in love with a woman enough to want her for myself. Not until I saw you, Jasmine. A royal Stuart would not settle for anything less than an Imperial Mughal princess,” he concluded with a small smile.

“I have been told that your ancestors were not quite as discerning as Your Highness. Indeed, it has been reliably reported to me that your family is related to more than half of Scotland,” Jasmine answered pertly, a trifle more relaxed, and with a twinkle in her eye.

Henry Stuart laughed. “Now, there is another thing,” he said. “You can make me laugh. You have a wickedly sharp wit, madame.” Then he grew serious. “Jasmine, I admit to wanting to make love to you, and eventually we will, but when we do, it will be because you desire me as well. I apologize
for accosting you at Whitehall, and frightening you. I am ashamed to say I could not help myself. I hope you will forgive me, my love. Now may there please be a pax between us?”

“Will you unlock the door to my chambers?” she said.

Reaching into his doublet, he withdrew the key and held it toward her. “Do you trust me now, madame?” he asked.

Jasmine stared a moment at the key he proffered. Her stepfather was correct when he said she could not refuse Henry Stuart’s overtures. This was England, not India. She was no princess here, but he was the heir to England’s throne. She could not afford to incur the king’s ill will. She had her children to consider. If she were forced to flee the royal wrath in England, where could she go this time?

“Keep the key, my lord,” she told him. “I have your word that you will behave yourself, and the word of a royal Stuart can be trusted, I am certain.” Jasmine approached and sat down upon the little stool by his side. “What are the lines I must learn for this masque of your mama’s?” She tipped her face up to his, looking deep into his light blue eyes.

Henry Stuart gently caressed her dark head, and then he said, “Look away from me, madame, else I be overcome with my desire for you,” and when she blushingly complied, he said, “I shall tell you the story we are to perform for the masque. It is quite simple, as are all of Mama’s little entertainments. The emphasis is upon the music, the dance, the costumes, and the beauty of the players.

“Summertime, who shall be portrayed by my cousin, Arabella Stuart, does not wish to yield her hold upon the earth to her sister, Autumn. She has drawn the flowers to her side. They fear Autumn’s frosty fingers upon their dainty petals. The trees, however, are overcome by their own vanity, for they wish to exchange their plain robes of summer-green for Autumn’s colors: scarlet, gold, and purple. The two sisters and their allies war back and forth, but Autumn, cleverer than Summertime, enlists her lover, the Lord of the Harvest, in the battle. Once he has decreed that the growing season must end, Summertime has no choice but to yield to her sister, Autumn. She departs sadly while Autumn and the Lord of the Harvest dance together in triumph.”

The prince chuckled. “As I have said, ’tis quite simple. Mama, however, adores such follies. You, my love, will be a beautiful Autumn. You shall quite put to shame poor Arabella,
who is, in my opinion, a bit long in the tooth, and overripe for her role as young Summertime. Arabella ought to be married and with a houseful of children, but alas, she is my father’s first cousin, and the only direct heir to his throne who is of his generation. Their fathers were brothers.

“When old Queen Bess died, there were some who talked of putting Arabella on the throne of England instead of my father. She is fortunate to be living in this time, for in another time she would have been imprisoned, and perhaps even murdered for her unfortunate bloodlines. Instead my father keeps her in an unmarried state at court. Poor creature. She has hot Stuart blood running through her veins, even as I have.”

“These three roles, then—Summertime, Autumn, and the Lord of the Harvest,” said Jasmine, “are the only speaking roles?”

“I believe so,” Prince Henry replied. “The trees and flowers may have a line here or there. Young ladies of the court will play the flowers, and young gentlemen the trees. Roles in my mother’s masques are quite coveted.”

Henry Stuart then explained the dialogue to Jasmine, and together they rehearsed their parts. When they both realized that the day was waning, the prince arose and took his leave of her. He did not attempt to kiss her, which Jasmine found reassuring, yet strangely disquieting.