Friarsgate Inheritance: Until You Part 13

"Will the English amba.s.sador 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, G.o.d a.s.soil her good soul," the duke remarked, crossing himself piously, "was not a woman to inspire pa.s.sion. 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 l.u.s.t than love."

"It is usually more l.u.s.t," 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 amba.s.sador's residence, walking in a leisurely fas.h.i.+on 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 emba.s.sy 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."

Smiling, the servingwoman curtsied, then took the floral tribute and hurried up the stairs.

Patrick joined his host. "He hasn't changed," he began, accepting a small silver goblet of wine as he sat down.

"What did you tell him?" Lord MacDuff wanted to know.

"What he needed to know. We have put him in a delicate position, situated as San Lorenzo is between France and Italy," the earl chuckled. "If the truth should ever come out, Sebastian di San Lorenzo will profess ignorance, outrage, whatever the situation calls for, my lord. He will protect San Lorenzo at all costs, which he should and which is his right. And if Lord Howard is curious as to my presence, you will adhere to the story that I am here with my lover. You will profess ignorance of all else."

"Do you believe we can weaken the alliance, Patrick?" the amba.s.sador asked.

"Nay, and neither does the king, but he felt that we must make an attempt at it. Even if Venice and the Holy Roman Empire insist on adhering to their agreement with the Holy League, they will have certain doubts, which I shall plant in the minds of those who come to treat with me. They will be less enthusiastic and more cautious than they have been. That is the best that we shall do, Ian. But we shall do it! Henry Tudor has not won yet."

"Do you know who it is you will meet with yet?" Lord MacDuff asked.

"Nay. But I have a suspicion that the artist from Venice who is arriving in another day or two, and who the duke is feting, may be one of the gentlemen I am to deal with. He is a member of the Loredano family, and he has made a name for himself as a former student of both the Bellini brothers. No one would suspect a Venetian artist of political intrigue," the earl chuckled. "But I do not know. I shall have to wait and see. Sebastian insisted that Rosamund and I attend this fete. He is curious, of course, to meet her, and still, I suspect, fancies himself a great lover."

"His adventures have not been quite so public in recent years," Lord MacDuff said with a smile. "As he has grown more portly and less fleet of foot, he is not so apt to want to find himself facing an angry husband or father."

"His son, I imagine, has taken over for him," the earl said dryly.

"Nay! Lord Rudolpho keeps a mistress, but he is discreet," the amba.s.sador noted.

"I thought he would be like his father," Patrick said. "I remember saying so to my daughter once. He has fathered enough children."

"Aye, and all those la.s.ses, to boot," Lord MacDuff chortled.

The earl stood up, draining his goblet. "I want to thank you for your hospitality, Ian MacDuff. Rosamund has never been out of England until now, except for her brief visit to our court. She has been made to feel most welcome."

"She is a fair la.s.s, Patrick," Lord MacDuff said, "and has beautiful manners, according to Pietro, who, as you will remember, values such things. The servants are happy to have a woman in the house being that I am a crusty old bachelor."

"I would like to remain until spring," the earl said.

"You are more than welcome," came the smiling reply. "I think if I had such a lovely woman to love, I would want to remain here until spring, too."

Patrick left the amba.s.sador and hurried upstairs to his apartments, where he found Rosamund being fitted for her gowns. He sat down to watch, giving Celestina a friendly nod.

"I hear," the seamstress said, "that you are going to the fete for the Venetian, Patrizio. It will be a grand event, for the duke will be anxious to impress the artist Loredano. The festivals and fetes they have in Venice are said to be spectacular. Our duke will have to go to some effort to affect any admiration from his visitor." And she chuckled.

He laughed. "How the h.e.l.l do you know we are going to the duke's fete? I have only just now come from the palace."

She rolled her black eyes at him, a gesture he realized he well remembered. "Patrizio, this is San Lorenzo. Here, everyone knows everyone's business. The English amba.s.sador is curious to meet you, by the way. He wonders why a former Scots amba.s.sador to the duchy has suddenly shown up here. Now."

"The English are always suspicious of the Scots," the earl said casually. "Is that not so, my love?" He addressed Rosamund.

"Always," Rosamund agreed pleasantly. "The Scots, you see, cannot be trusted, Celestina. Should the neckline be that low?"

"It is the fas.h.i.+on here, madame," Celestina answered her.

"It is higher at the Scots court," Rosamund noted.

"It is colder at the Scots court," the seamstress said pithily. "Here in the south we like the breeze to caress our skin on a warm winter's night. Is that not so, my lord?"

"I think the neckline is most correct," Patrick agreed with her.

"Will you think it so correct when this duke ogles my b.r.e.a.s.t.s?" Rosamund asked innocently.

"He is permitted to ogle, my darling," the earl told her. "But nothing more."

The two women laughed.

"I am doing the bodice of the pale green gown more elaborately, madame," Celestina said. "You will wear it to the duke's fete along with the gift Patrizio has purchased for you on his way from the palace."

"You bought me a gift?" Rosamund squealed. "I mean, besides the flowers?-which are lovely, my lord. What are they called? And where is my gift?"

"The blooms are mimosas, and as for your gift, I am not certain I shall give it to you now. You are much too greedy," he teased her.

"That is your decision, of course, my lord, but I should dislike seeing a lovely piece of jewelry go to waste," Rosamund murmured.

"How can you be certain it is jewelry?" he asked her, smiling.

"Isn't it?" she asked mischievously. "Or perhaps you have bought me a villa here and could not carry it with you."

Celestina chortled. "You have finally met your match, Patrizio, and how glad I am to be here to see it. There! I am done. Maria! Take madame's gown, and be careful, girl. The fabric is delicate." She gathered up her tools and put them in her basket. "In just a few more days' time, madame, you will have a new and beautiful wardrobe to get you through the winter here." Then, with a curtsy, she departed the earl's apartments.

"We are remaining the entire winter months?" Rosamund asked Patrick.

He nodded. "It will be easier traveling in late spring or early summer, my love."

"I had not thought to be away so long," she replied.

The Earl of Glenkirk put an arm about her. "Your uncle Edmund and your cousin Tom are husbanding Friarsgate for you, Rosamund."

" 'Tis my la.s.ses I worry more about, Patrick," she told him.

"And do you not trust Maybel to watch over them?" he asked.

"Aye, but I do not like it that my daughters are so long without their mother," she answered him. "Still, Maybel raised me. At least my girls are not being forced into marriages by Uncle Henry, as I was."

"And have you not said that you never think of yourself, only your duty. I understand because I am the same way; but now, for just this little s.p.a.ce of time, you and I are together, away from those responsibilities. I mean for us to enjoy ourselves."

"But how will you tell the king what he needs to know?" she wondered.

"When the die has been cast, Lord MacDuff will see a message is sent to the king under his diplomatic seal. And you and I will remain here to bask in the suns.h.i.+ne, make love, and drink the wine of San Lorenzo."

Rosamund sighed. "It sounds wonderful," she said softly, turning in his arms to face him, raising her head up for a kiss, which he placed upon her ripe lips. "Now," she said, "where is my present?"

Patrick burst out laughing and reached into his doublet to draw out the flat white leather case. "Here, you vixen," he said, handing it to her.

Rosamund struggled to maintain restraint. She looked at it, the fingers of one hand running over the soft leather. Finally she snapped the small catch and raised the lid. Her amber eyes grew round. "Oh, Patrick, it is beautiful!" she said, lifting the filigreed gold collar from its velvet nest, setting the box aside. "What are these tiny green gemstones? I have never seen any like them."

"They are peridots," he told her. "Their color matches the gown Celestina first showed us. There is a larger stone that can be mounted on a ribbon to be worn in the middle of your forehead. I should like to purchase it, but I wanted to be certain first that you like this."

"Patrick, you are too good to me," she told him.

"Has any other man ever given you jewelry?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Aye," she said, and her lashes brushed her creamy cheek.

"Who?" he demanded, his tone jealous.

"My cousin Tom," Rosamund laughed, unable to taunt him. "Tom, as you know, is an unusual gentleman. He has a pa.s.sion for beautiful things and possesses a great deal of lovely jewelry. When we were in London, he gifted me with many lovely pieces, but none as beautiful as this collar, my lord." Standing on tiptoes Rosamund kissed him. "Thank you, my darling!"

"Then I shall get the ribbon jewel?" he asked her.

"Would I be too greedy if I said yes?" she wondered aloud.

"No," he told her, smiling down into her eyes. "It will suit you, and every minute of the duke's fete I shall be jealous of all the men admiring you."

"Oh, Patrick, you never have to be jealous over me," Rosamund told him. "I love you as I have never loved any man! I knew nothing of love until that night our eyes met across the Great Hall at Stirling."

"Did Logan Hepburn never attract your notice?" he pressed her.

"Aye, he did attract my notice. He is young and handsome and a very beast of a man. But I never loved him," Rosamund said.

"I don't know how it is possible you love me and not him," the Earl of Glenkirk said quietly. "Why have we met now, in the autumn of my years? And why are we both so duty bound to our families and lands? Sometimes I think I should like to run away from it all. But, of course, I won't, and you won't."

"Nay, we shall both do our duty in the end, Patrick," she replied. "But for now we have each other, and we have San Lorenzo. Do not speak on our parting again. It will come in its time, and we will know it. But not yet."

He drew her back into his embrace, his arms tightening about her. He said nothing further, but his lips touched the top of her auburn head. How could they know each other so well on such brief acquaintance? He didn't understand, but he also didn't care. She was here, with him, and he loved her. It was all he needed to know for now. He smoothed her silken hair with his big hand, and she sighed contentedly.

The afternoon of the duke's fete Celestina and Maria arrived with Rosamund's gown.

"It cannot be the same garment!" Rosamund cried as she looked at the beautiful gown spread across the bed. There was an underskirt embroidered with gold thread in a design of leaping fish, sh.e.l.ls, and sea horses. The bodice was sewn all over with pearls. The full sleeves were slashed to reveal delicate natural-colored lace sleeves beneath. The slas.h.i.+ngs were tied with gold cord. The pale green watered silk overskirt had been left plain, for in combination with the rest of the gown it needed no further artifice. "It is beautiful!" Rosamund said, looking to Celestina. "I cannot thank you enough!"

Celestina nodded. "You will have all the gentlemen cl.u.s.tering about you tonight, madame. It is a beautiful gown, and Patrizio will pay dearly for it," she laughed with good humor. "I brought you shoes. Your Annie loaned me one of your boots to match for size. I hope they will not be too big." She then produced from her voluminous ap.r.o.n pocket a pair of square-toed slippers covered with the same pale green watered silk as the gown and held them out for Rosamund to take.

Rosamund shook her head. "They are lovely, Celestina. And thanks to you, I will be suitably dressed for the fete."

"I shall go and have something to eat with my father," Celestina said. "Then, when you are ready to depart, I shall make certain that everything is in order."

"Does she think I don't know how to prepare you?" Annie said, just a little irritated by the seamstress' att.i.tude.

"She is an artist in her own right, Annie, and you will admit that this gown is one of the most beautiful gowns I have ever possessed," Rosamund said.

Annie nodded her head in agreement. "Even Sir Thomas would approve of it, though the neckline still looks too low to me."

"Have a bath prepared," Rosamund instructed the servingwoman. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could fill my tub as easily as we empty it?"

Again Annie nodded. It was necessary to fill the bra.s.s-bound oak tub with bucket after bucket of water, but to empty it was a far simpler operation. At the bottom of the tub was a small flexible tube that fit into the side and was unrolled over the terrace's edge. At the end of its length was a cork, which when removed allowed the tub to drain down onto the rocks below.

While the tub was being filled, Rosamund ate. She was given a dish of fluffy eggs and half of a sweet melon. Until she arrived in San Lorenzo she had never tasted melon. Now she insisted on having it every day. When the tub was filled and Annie had scented it with Rosamund's favorite white heather fragrance, she arose from her table, carrying her goblet of sweet wine. Annie took the caftan from her mistress, and naked, Rosamund walked out onto the terrace, handing the goblet to her servant and climbing into her tub. Annie handed the goblet back when Rosamund was settled, then pinned her mistress' hair up.

"Leave me for now, Annie. I will wash eventually, but for now I just want to enjoy sitting here in the suns.h.i.+ne and watching the blue sea."

"You'll want to siesta afterwards, my lady," Annie said. "I'll move your new gown from the bed and set it safely aside." She turned and went back into the apartment.

Rosamund sipped her wine and stared down into the harbor of Arcobaleno. There was a most magnificent s.h.i.+p sailing majestically into the port. It had royal-purple-and-gold striped sails, and on its bow was a full-bosomed golden mermaid with scarlet tresses. Rosamund smiled. Obviously, some very important person was aboard such a gorgeous vessel.

"It's bringing the artist, Paolo Loredano," Patrick said as he joined her on the terrace.

"Perhaps the s.h.i.+p belongs to the doge himself," Rosamund remarked.

"Or perhaps it belongs to Maestro Loredano himself," the earl suggested. "He is famed for his portraits, as was his first master, Gentile Bellini. The duke is anxious to have him do portraits of himself and his family. Loredano, however, is very particular about whom he paints. He will not take just any commission offered, and has offended more than a few."

"What is the duke like?" Rosamund asked.

"Older even than I am," the earl teased her. "Of medium height, a bit corpulent from too-good living. His hair was once dark, but now it is gray. He will appear the good host and will go out of his way to charm you, but never forget that he is clever, he is ruthless, and he is a seducer."

"Should I fear him, then?" she wondered.