Darling Jasmine (34 page)

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Authors: Bertrice Small

BOOK: Darling Jasmine
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“Or the games,” Will Todd added. “He maught hae gone to the games, but then there be several this summer. Two, or three, I dinna remember.” He took his fishing rod back from Adali and stepped back out into the swiftly flowing stream. “ 'Tis all I can tell ye,” he said with a firm air of finality.
“Games?”
The marquis of Hartsfield was puzzled.
“Because the winters are so long and so harsh,” Adali explained, “the Scots like to hold games of athletic prowess in the summer months. It allows the clans to gather together, the men to exhibit their skill at things like tossing the caber, it's a log, my lord; or throwing big round stones a distance. The women come to gossip. They dance, and there are bards and the pipes. Will is right, however. There are several sets of games this summer, and the earl could have gone to any of them, for he is related to many people through his Stuart connections.”
“How barbaric,” St. Denis sneered.
“Let us return to Edinburgh,” Kipp said. “Seeking out Glenkirk here will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. If you send for him in the king's name, he must come or risk treason.”
“Oh, I'm certain you can find the earl if you really want him,” Adali lightly taunted the marquis of Hartsfield to see what he would do when torn between his brother's suggestion and that of Adali.
“Edinburgh is our best bet,” Kipp St. Denis insisted.
“No!”
the marquis said. “We are here, and surely it cannot be too difficult to find these places the old man has named.”
“And do not forget the games, my lord,” Adali helpfully volunteered, causing Kipp St. Denis to stare hard at him.
“Do you know where they are being held?” the marquis asked.
“Well, I believe there are some at Inverness, and others at Nairn, and I had heard of some being held at Loch Lomond, my lord.”
“You will write it all down, and give us directions,” the marquis of Hartsfield said. “We will stay the night and start off again in the morning.” Piers St. Denis was too excited to contemplate Adali's cooperation, but Kipp St. Denis was not.
“What are you up to?” he asked the castle steward when they were finally alone in the Great Hall, the marquis having been shown to a guest chamber.
Adali turned a bland face to him. “Master St. Denis?” he said.
“You know what I mean,” Kipp said. “Why are you being so helpful to my brother? Your loyalty to your mistress is legendary.”
Adali smiled a small smile. “Why, sir, your master carries a royal warrant from the king. For me to disobey would be treason, wouldn't it now? As my mistress respects the divine right of kings, so do I also. I cannot disobey King James, even for my mistress.”
Kipp was not content with the answer. “You are up to
something,”
he said suspiciously. “You would not betray your mistress, I know it!”
Again Adali smiled. “If, sir, I believed your brother had any chance of catching up with my lord, and my lady . . .” He allowed the rest of the sentence to hang.
“They knew he was coming!”
Kipp gasped.
“They knew he was in Edinburgh all winter long,” Adali replied. “It would seem that Scotland is a very small country, sir, and once more I remind you that the earl of Glenkirk is related to many people throughout it. We had word before Christmas, but immediately the first storm of the season came, and the roads were to be blocked for the next few months. We were told, however, that when the roads were open again, the marquis of Hartsfield would be paying us a visit. Unfortunately, the earl and his wife could not wait, for they have many visits themselves to make this summer.”
“He will hunt them into hell and back,” Kipp said despairingly.
“By the time he catches up with them,
if he can catch up with them,”
Adali told his companion, “there will no longer be any danger for my master and my mistress, sir, but I fear there may be great danger for your half brother.”
“They have sent to the king!”
Kipp whispered.
“The king is an honorable man,” Adali told him. “He would not take back his word to the earl and countess of Glenkirk.”
“I warned him,” Kipp almost whispered to himself.
“I warned him!”
“Then you are surely wiser than your brother,” Adali told him. Then he said, softly, “There is yet time for you to save yourself, sir.”
“I swore to our father on his deathbed that I would watch over Piers,” Kipp said, his defenses down, his mood desperate.
“You have tried to prevent your brother from his folly, have you not?” Adali asked him softly. “I have seen it myself.”
“For many years,” Kipp confided in Adali, “I have followed along in my brother's wake. He was simply ambitious, and I saw no harm in his actions when he caught the king's attention. And over the years I kept him from much wickedness, although I have not always been successful in my attempts; but the women he so enjoyed abusing, I made certain they were, for the most part, experienced in the amatory arts. Only three or four times did he misuse an innocent; but they were girls of no import, and afterward I was kind to them and paid them not to complain to the authorities.”
“You joined him in his deviant practices, I am told,” Adali said quietly, not willing to let Kipp escape his censure.
“I did,” Kipp admitted, “but by doing so I kept many women from greater harm at my brother's hand. I accept my shame, Adali. Our father encouraged us as young men to such wickedness, for as he grew older it seemed more difficult for him to enjoy a woman without hurting her. I remember telling my mother. It was she who warned me for my own sake I must play my part or risk losing my father's favor.”
“But your father is long dead,” Adali reminded him. “Your brother has now strayed completely into evil's dominion. There is no going back for him, Kipp St. Denis, but you have not yet crossed completely over into the darkness. You have a conscience, and you now have the chance to save yourself as you will not be able to save your brother. Would your father want to lose
both
of his sons, if he were here to make the decision? Would he want to see his proud old name wiped from the face of the earth?”
“I am his bastard,” Kipp said simply.
“But he gave you his name,
and he raised you in his house, and favored you as well as he did his legitimate heir,” Adali argued. “I believe your father loved you, too.”
“If I do not stay with Piers,” Kipp said, “he will continue on to worse mischief, Adali.”
“He will continue on anyway,” Adali replied. “You are not responsible for his behavior.
Save yourself while you have the opportunity!
You have lived your whole life through Piers St. Denis. Now live your life for yourself. If you asked the king for his mercy, I know he would give it to you. King James has a large and a kind heart. He might even reward your timely behavior.”
An accident of birth.
It was only an accident of birth that had kept him from being the marquis of Hartsfield, Kipp thought silently. Did he dare to hope he might change that? Was it possible? Could he betray Piers? Was it really a betrayal? Aye, he had promised their father he would look after his younger half brother; but Piers no longer wanted looking after.
He has never really listened to my good counsel,
Kipp said silently to himself,
and by following him, I have been dragged down in the gutter with him. He will be caught in this attempt to revenge himself upon the Leslies and in his endeavor to steal the fortunes belonging to them.
And whatever made Piers believe that the king would give him custody of all those children? The queen despised him so openly she could not even bring herself to pick a wife for him! She would hardly allow her only grandson or the other children to come under Piers St. Denis's control. Indeed Kipp believed the queen would kill him herself before she would see those children in Hartsfield House.
And what of the Leslies of Glenkirk? And the old and powerful countess of Lundy? Would they allow their children to be put into the hands of a man like Piers St. Denis? It was madness even to consider it, and yet his brother had not only considered it, he assumed it would be because he wanted it to be.
But it wouldn't.
Suddenly Kipp St. Denis realized that if he did not act now to save himself, he would be as doomed as his brother, and he didn't want to be. Why should he share Piers's fate? How many beatings had he taken for Piers when they were children, and Piers had found it so amusing, but it had not been amusing. Sometimes Piers even did bad things just so he could see his brother punished.
“I have no coin of my own, nor powerful friends to intercede for me,” he told Adali, and then waited to see what Adali would say to him.
“I will give you the silver you need,” Adali replied softly. “And as for allies, sir, go to the king and tell him the truth of this matter, and you will have friends a-plenty, not only at court, for your brother has made many enemies there who will befriend you, but among my mistress's family. A word in the king's ear, and you could have a reward greater than any you could possibly anticipate, Kipp St. Denis.”
“How can I be certain of what you say?” Kipp asked.
Adali drew himself up, and said sternly, “I am Adali, confidant and friend of the royal Mughal princess you know as Jasmine Leslie. I do not lie, nor do I offer my favor or aid lightly. If I tell you it will be so, then it will be so! Make your decision before it is too late, Kipp St. Denis, or suffer your brother's eventual bad end.” Then, turning on his heel, he began to walk from the hall.
“Wait!”
Adali turned.
“If I go, I
must
have coin,” Kipp reiterated.
Adali reached into a hidden pocket within his white coat and drew out a small leather bag. “There is both gold and silver in it,” he said quietly, handing it to Kipp. “More than enough to get you to England and then some.”
Kipp slowly took the bag from Adali. “If I change my mind,” he promised, “I will return the bag to you, Adali. What of my horse?”
“When you desire your mount it will be available to you,” Adali told him. “I will see you are not followed, but ride swiftly.”
The two men parted. It was interesting, Adali mused to himself, that Kipp St. Denis had offered to return the bag of coins if he did not leave his brother.
He does indeed have a conscience,
the steward thought,
but is his loyalty to the marquis greater than his sense of self-preservation, I wonder? We shall see. We shall see.
Adali hurried down to the kitchens to make certain that the dinner would be of the finest quality. The marquis of Hartsfield must be well fed and filled with rich wine, the last few cups of which would be spiked with a sleeping draught that would have him sleeping through into the following afternoon. Next Adali moved on to the stables, and instructed the head groom to make certain that Kipp St. Denis's horse was rested and fed and available to his master on request.
“He's got a loose shoe, Master Adali,” the head groom told the steward. “Wouldn't take much to fix it. Blacksmith be working today.”
“Have him replace all four of the horses's shoes,” Adali said, “and Dugald, this will be our wee secret, eh?”
“Aye, Master Adali,” Dugald said, winking broadly.
“The horses belonging to the marquis and his other men,” Adali continued, “I think they might be taken to the high pasture to graze until they are needed.”
“Aye, Master Adali,” the head groom said with a grin. The earl's new steward might not be a Scot, but he thought like one, Dugald decided. At least where the English were concerned.
Piers St. Denis enjoyed sitting at the head of the highboard in the Great Hall that night. He let his eye wander to the banners hanging from the rafters, banners which indicated the many battles in which the Leslies had fought, and to the beautiful tapestries hanging upon the walls that their women had created. He admired the heavy and copious amount of silver upon the sideboard, the two magnificent portraits hanging over the fireplaces, and noted that the lamps burned only the purest scented oil and that the candles were of beeswax, not tallow.
The meal served him was exquisite. There was a fat duck in plum sauce, a small trout poached in white wine and set upon a bed of fresh cress on its silver platter, another silver platter of lamb-chops, artichokes steamed in wine and served with drawn butter, bread still warm from the ovens, and an excellent cheese. For afters an apple tart with thick, clotted cream was offered. Adali had inquired solicitously if his lordship would have wine, ale, or cider. The marquis had, of course, chosen the fine wine that Jasmine had always served. He had eaten alone, but for his brother, Kipp, who was oddly silent.
Now, however, as the evening drew in, he began to feel sleepy. It was not surprising, considering the long journey up from Edinburgh. Yawning, he pulled himself to his feet, but fell back again into his chair, his legs weak beneath him. Piers St. Denis laughed drunkenly.

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