LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Aye,” Glenkirk said.

      “One thing, my lord,” the earl of Lynmouth spoke in quiet, yet serious tones. “Charles Frederick Stuart is now the duke of Lundy, but Queen’s Malvern is my mother’s home, and has been for decades. You may take whatever vengeance you wish on my niece, Jasmine, but you will treat my mother with the dignity and respect to which she is entitled, and you will not dispossess her. If you render her any discourtesy, you will not have just me to contend with, my lord. Remember that BrocCairn is her son-in-law, and related to the king. And BrocCairn is Jasmine’s stepfather as well. And do not forget Alcester, Kempe, and Lord Burke. They would be most unhappy should mama be discommoded in any way.”

      The earl of Glenkirk gave his friend a frosty smile. “I am more than well aware of Madame Skye’s familial connections, Robin. I have no quarrel with your mother although I suspect she is more behind this than either of us knows. Besides, did you not know that Queen’s Malvern belongs to her outright. It is not entailed upon the title.”

      “Of course!” Robin said. “She and Adam bought it years ago from the queen. Bess was always short of money. While it was a royal property she loaned it to them. The old queen sold it to my mother and stepfather when she couldn’t pay her bills and needed the ready coin.”

      “So you need have to worry that your mother will come to live with you,” Glenkirk mocked his friend.

      “Live with me?” The earl of Lynmouth laughed. “My sister suggested to Mama that a widow of her many years should not live alone and insisted Mama come to live with her. Need I tell you the outcome of that altercation, Jemmie? My mother has done what pleased her since birth and will continue to do so until the day she dies, but between us I am not certain that God above wants her back too soon.”

      Glenkirk laughed loudly. “You may be right,” he said.

      Robin Southwood took his leave of James Leslie and continued on with his family to his home at Lynmouth in Devon. There he found his man but an hour ahead of him.

      “You was right, my lord,” the servant said. “Cardiff Rose was docked at Harwich, and was scheduled to put out today with the tide for France. Yer mother was expected aboard her. I passed her coach two days ago on the road as I left, but they wouldn’t recognize me now.”

      “Do you think James Leslie will find Jasmine this time?” Angel, the countess of Lynmouth, asked her husband.

      “If he didn’t dawdle he could have gotten to Dover and be in Calais before Mama,” the earl considered. “Even with a fair wind it will take her at least overnight from Harwich. The Dover crossing is far shorter, my love.” He patted her pretty hand.

      “Why did Madame Skye not take that route then, Robin?” she inquired, curious.

      “Because Mama would not want to come anywhere near London for fear of being recognized by someone, although there are few now at court who would know her. Still, she would not take the chance. She would risk the sea before she would risk being found out in her little deception. This time, however, she is doomed to failure.”

      “But surely Jemmie will not reveal himself to her until she is safely with Jasmine,” Angel said.

      “Nay, he will not,” Robin agreed. “Actually, I am not certain what he will do, but I believe my niece has made an enemy of the man who is to be her husband. She will have to work hard to win him back.”

      “I think,” Angel said, “that it is James Leslie who must put aside his pride and work hard to woo Jasmine, else their life together be a misery. Neither of them is easy.”

      Robin laughed. “You are a wise woman, sweetheart,” he told her. “And, you are beginning to sound like my mother.”

      “Why, Robin, what a lovely compliment,” Angel Southwood said, her eyes twinkling, her pretty mouth turned up in a smile.

      He chuckled. “With any other woman I might believe her to be sarcastic, but not you, my love. You actually are pleased I have said you remind me of Mama.”

      Angel nodded. “She is a grand woman, Robin!”

      “Aye,” the earl of Lynmouth agreed. “She is a grand woman, but dear heaven she is no less troublesome in her old age than she was as a girl.” He chortled again. “James Leslie is going to have his hands full with those two! I do not envy him his journey.”

      Chapter 2

      James Leslie had left London with his servant, Fergus More, almost immediately. They had embarked from Dover as the earl of Lynmouth had suggested and were waiting upon the docks when Cardiff Rose put into Calais. Standing in the shadows they watched as the vessel was made fast, its gangway run up, the unloading done. Skye’s great traveling coach had made the short journey lashed to the deck of the ship. Now it was carefully rolled off onto the land to the doors of a large warehouse. Immediately the doors were opened and sturdy horses brought forth to be harnessed to the vehicle. The activity in and about the coach held little interest for the earl of Glenkirk once it had begun. He watched the gangway, and eventually Madame Skye came forth, the captain of her ship escorting her to her coach, her servants following.

      But only when she was settled in the conveyance, and her two coachmen up on their box, did the earl say quietly to his companion, “Time to mount up, Fergus. We dare not lose the old lady.”

      “There’s only one way off the docks, my lord,” Fergus replied. “Best we wait for her at the entry. Ye don’t want anyone seeing us following her, and there’s too many of her people here.”

      James Leslie nodded, and the two men discreetly led their mounts from the shadows and off the docks. Shortly afterward the coach rolled onto the street of the town, and the earl began his secret pursuit. From Calais they followed the road to Amiens, and then on to Paris. James Leslie was surprised at how intrepid a traveler his quarry was, considering her age. She lingered but a night at any inn, even in Paris, where he almost lost her, for she did not overnight at a public place, but rather at the home of one of her late husband’s relations. Taking the chance that she would not depart before her usual hour the following day, he found a nearby inn where he and Fergus might get a hot meal and a bed.

      “You was right,” Fergus said the next morning as they again picked up the chase.

      “She’s no fool,” the earl replied. “She’s anxious to get there, but she knows she needs her rest, and so do her horses. There’s no real need for haste although she’s certainly not dallying.”

      From Paris to Fontainebleau to Montargis to Orléans to Blois.

      “She is headed for Archambault,” the earl said.

      “We’ve been there before, and yer lady ain’t been there,” Fergus More noted. “Ye don’t think the old lady knows she’s being followed?”

      “We’ve been too careful,” James Leslie decided aloud.

      But they passed by the gates to Archambault, and through the château’s village. Finally, several miles from Archambault, the coach turned off on a narrow side road. James Leslie drew his horse to a stop. A light drizzle was falling, as it had been for the past few days. Silently he signaled with his hand for Fergus More to move forward carefully, so that their mounts were close together.

      “This road can only go one place,” he said softly. “To some sort of dwelling. We will wait and give Madame Skye time to reach her destination.” He drew his cloak about him. It was damnably chilly.

      “I saw a small inn back in the village,” Fergus said hopefully.

      The earl of Glenkirk shook his head. “Nay, I want no word of foreign strangers reaching this place until I have learned what is at the end of this little road. We’ll wait here.”

      Fergus sighed.

      They waited, and after a half an hour the earl deemed it safe for them to move down the narrow track. Several minutes later they rounded

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