LITMIR.BIZ

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Grandmother Velvet’s day girls younger than I came to court,” India grumbled. “I don’t understand why I can’t stay alone.”

      “In your grandmother’s day, the girls at court your age were either maids-of-honor serving old Queen Bess, married, or in the charge of a parent or older relative, and, like you, seeking husbands of good name, good repute, and suitable fortunes. This is not, however, your grandmother’s day. A young woman of good family is properly supervised by her family lest society receive the incorrect impression that she is either not valued, or that her behavior is loose.”

      “You are sooo old-fashioned,” India muttered.

      “If I am,” her mother replied serenely, “I shall remain so, and until you have left my home for your husband’s home, you will obey me. You will also not give me cause to regret that I have allowed you to remain with the court when I should far prefer to go home to Queen’s Malvern myself with your sister and brothers. I am quite capable of changing my mind, India. Now, tell me about Viscount Twyford. Does he seek to pay his addresses to you? He really is not suitable, you know.”

      “Why not?” India was curious as to what her mother had heard.

      “His father’s family is a respectable one,” Jasmine said. “They are Glocestershire people. I am sure you know about his brother, Deverall. It was quite a scandal, and such things do not die.”

      “Deverall Leigh murdered a rival,” India said.

      “So it was said, and the fact that he fled England did nothing to erase that impression. Many, however, did not believe it. Deverall Leigh was an honorable young man, but still it was his knife found in the victim’s chest, and he ran away. A convenience for his stepmother, and her son, Adrian. No one saw or heard the murder of Lord Jeffers. His serving man was away that night, and there was no one else in the house. And, of course, there was the knife. Deverall Leigh can never return to England without facing the hangman’s rope, for there is no one to attest to his innocence, if indeed he is innocent. I had heard that his father had disowned him. What choice did the poor man have? So your friend, Adrian, will one day be the earl of Oxton, and sooner than later if the rumors are to be believed,” Jasmine finished.

      “But why do you hold Adrian to account for his brother’s behavior, Mama? You have said the Leighs are a respectable family,” India replied.

      “I said his father’s family was respectable. His mother, however, is another thing. She is a foreigner. Her family is not the equal of her husband’s. She is said to take lovers. Men of low station. Her husband is a broken man. Some say her behavior is as much to blame as the alleged behavior of Deverall Leigh. This young man who has caught your fancy is her son. Raised by her. What kind of man can he be? The acorn, India, does not fall far from the oak. Besides, the Leighs are not a family of wealth, and you have always sought to avoid those young men who were fortune hunters. What makes you think Adrian Leigh is not?”

      “Because he is obviously interested in me, Mama! The others were always asking about my lands, and my other holdings, and what kind of income I had from my inheritance. Adrian never asks such things.”

      “Then possibly he is different, India, but he is still not suitable,” Jasmine responded. “Still, as long as his behavior is correct toward you, I see no reason you should not continue to enjoy his company.” Better she think I have no violent objection to this young man, Jasmine thought. I do not want to drive her into his arms. He is clever, this Adrian Leigh. He has to know that India is very, very wealthy. It has never been a secret. He is willing to wait, and see just how wealthy she is until he has her securely netted. A dangerous opponent, I fear. Damnation! Why could not the perfect man come along, and sweep India off her feet? Jemmie’s mother was right. My daughter is ripe for the taking, and a girl in love for the first time is not always prudent.

      James Leslie stood with his wife the following day, waving the majority of their children farewell as they set out with their servants for Queen’s Malvern. “I should just as soon go wi them,” he said dourly, but he understood the importance of their remaining. Come autumn, though, they would return north whether it pleased India or not. And he agreed with his wife that they would allow India a certain measure of freedom, for nothing was more embarrassing to a young girl than to be obviously overseen.

      India danced that same evening away, in a magnificent gown of peacock-blue silk with a silver lace collar, the bodice of which was embroidered all over with pearls and diamante. She wore pearls in her dark hair, and her lovelock was tied with a silver ribbon studded with twinkling crystals. About her slender throat was a choker of creamy baroque pearls. She was flushed with pleasure, and her creamy cheeks were rosy.

      “You are the most beautiful girl in the entire world,” Adrian Leigh told her passionately, his sapphire-blue eyes glittering.

      “I know,” India replied, and then she laughed at his surprise. “Do you want me to demure, and giggle like some little ninny?” she teased.

      “No,” he said, surprising her. “I want to steal you away and make love to you for hours on end. Would you like that, my India?”

      “As a virgin, I have no idea whether I would like it or not,” India replied pertly, “and I am not your India. Even when I am married, I shall belong to no one but myself, Adrian. The women in my family have always been both independent of spirit, and independent in their own wealth. I see no reason to change such a fine custom, do you?”

      “I would change nothing about you,” he told her fervently. “I adore you just as you are, India.” He bent his blond head, and brushed her lips impulsively with his.

      India tossed her head, half avoiding him. “I have not given you permission to kiss me,” she said, tweaking the fabric of his sky-blue silk doublet.

      “I should be a poor suitor if I meekly waited for your permission,” he said, pulling her into an alcove and pinioning her against the wall. The blue eyes stared down into her gold ones. “You are ripe for kissing, India, and I vow that no lips but mine shall ever touch yours,” Adrian Leigh said, his mouth fully touching hers for the first time.

      Warm. Firm. Not at all unpleasant, India thought. Her heart raced madly with her first kiss. Her stomach felt as if the bottom had suddenly fallen out of it.

      Then he took his lips away, smiling down at her. “Did you like it, India?” he asked her.

      She nodded.

      “You have nothing to say to me?” he said.

      “Again,” she commanded him. “I want to see if it’s as nice the second time as it was the first.”

      Adrian Leigh laughed. “Very well,” he acquiesced, and kissed her a second kiss, encouraged this time when her own lips pressed back against his. He raised his head up. “That’s it, India. Kiss me back.” Then he kissed her a third time, and India’s arms slipped about his neck. Her little round breasts pressed against him.

      “Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! I think that is quite enough, chérie,” India heard her cousin, the chevalier St. Justine, say with a feigned sigh of exasperation.

      Guiltily India pulled away from the viscount. “René!”

      He drew her blushing from the alcove. “You must have a care for your good name, chérie, even if Monsieur le viscount does not.”

      “My intentions are honorable, Chevalier,” Adrian Leigh protested.

      “If they are indeed, Viscount,” René St. Justine said, “you surely know better than to take a well-bred virgin into a dark alcove and enflame her innocent passions with kisses.”

      “René!” India was mortified. “I am not a child, damn it!”

      “The gentleman knows what I am saying, India, even if you do not understand,” he replied. “Now, come and dance with me, Cousin.” He led her off, leaving Viscount Twyford standing in the semidarkness. India was certainly well guarded, Adrian Leigh thought to himself, but he meant to have her

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