Delight (9 page)

Chasing women, Douglas said to himself.

Rowena continued,
"
The youngest, Anthony, is pursing a monastic life in the French Pyrenees.
"

Afraid of women, Douglas thought. He resisted the urge to shake his head. The men in her family were all but useless. He would like a week to set them straight on the role a woman should play in war—none.
"
Do your brothers know of the rebellion?
"

"
I've sent numerous messages—Matthew has helped me—but if they do not return home soon, or if they get themselves killed, I shall not only have to rescue Papa alone but also produce heirs to assume the dynastic succession.
"

"Heirs?
"
Douglas took a scalding sip of coffee to cover the fact his voice had just climbed an octave.

"
I have to have babies in a hurry,
"
Rowena said frankly. "The dyn
astic succession must be contin
ued without interruption or the rebels who are holding my father will use that as a case to persuade our people to turn against us."

"
This is an intriguing dilemma,
"
Douglas said. Especially the part about having babies in a hurry.

Rowena sighed. "My sister Micheline has been banished to a convent for misbehavior, so naturally she cannot get pregnant.
"

"
Naturally,
"
Douglas said.

"Of course, with Micheline, such a thing is entirely possible.
"

The thought of producing heirs with the princess did dangerous things to Douglas
'
s imagination. For a reckless moment he considered offering to whisk her upstairs and help her fulfill her political obligations. She was the first woman he
'
d met who made the prospect of having babies seem even remotely enticing. Lust and tenderness rocked him as he pictured them surrounded by a sea of little pirates and princesses.

She stared past him in noble innocence, lost in thoughts of plots and waylaid princes. Or was she all that innocent? he wondered cynically. A scowl settled over his sun-burnished features.

The woman was anything but stupid. Was she putting his character to the test? Did she mean to uncover his true intentions? Few were the men someone in her position could trust. She had been betrayed. She would be understandably cautious in her personal dealings.

She was confiding in Douglas because he was Sir Matthew
'
s brother. A pirate would jump at the chance to bed her, let alone get his hands on her fortune.

A peer of the realm, however, would exercise a little more self-control. Hell, if she guessed that only a few months ago he
'
d been stalking Spaniards, sweating half-naked with a knife clamped
in his teeth, she
'
d run gasping back to her pink summer palace in horror.

Douglas would have to earn her trust. He would have to impress her wit
h his sense of dignity and self-
restraint. Of course first he would have to
find
some dignity and self-restraint within himself. He wasn
'
t sure he had ever possessed such sterling qualities.

He pursed his lips, forcing his attention back to what she was saying.

"
—and as stated in the marriage contract, I will retain control of the truffle business.
"

He leaned forward to refill her cup. "You have trouble with business?
"

"
Were you listening to me?
"
Rowena asked.

Douglas bit back a grin. She was a spirited little princess, but he didn
'
t mind that.
"
I certainly was, Your Highness. And do I have troubles of my own? Why, just last week—
"

Rowena released a loud sigh. She looked at him as if he were a trifle dimwitted.
"
I was not talking about troubles. I was talking about truffles. T-R-U-F-F-L-E-S. Hartzburg is renowned for them. They're a great delicacy which we export all over Europe. Have you ever tasted them?"

"Certainly,
"
Douglas lied.
We ate truffles every day aboard ship right along with our wormy biscuits and salted pork.
"
There is nothing quite like a truffle to top off a meal, is there?"

Rowena
'
s smile sparkled with mischief. "Apparently the rest of the world agrees. I can
'
t stand
them myself. What could be worse than a platter of black warty fungus to kill one
'
s appetite? Papa serves them at every function.
"

Douglas leaned forward on his elbows, as if truffles were the most fascinating subject on earth. "Does he?"

"
He used to make us hunt the horrid things in the beech woods with his trained pigs.
"

"How thrilling,
"
Douglas said.

"
He was good fun in those days, before my mother died,
"
she said, her smile wistful.
"
He changed after he lost her. He became withdrawn and distrustful.
"

Douglas noticed the tension in her slender fingers as she gripped her cup. His gaze lifted to her face.

"I
'
ve spoken too much," she said. "You are a man who listens, my lord, and that can be a dangerous thing.
"

"
Surely you know that your secrets will never leave this table?
"
he said quietly.

"
I don't know you at all yet," she said, her smile returning.
"
But if Matthew insists I trust you, then you must be a trustworthy man.
"

A voice from the doorway doused the pleasant flames of intimacy that had begun to kindle between them.

Hildegarde clumped up to the table in her clogs, her scowl like a rainshower on a summer picnic. "
'
Tisn
'
t a good idea to burden our host
with our troubles," she said with a sharp look at Rowena.

"We were discussing truffles, not troubles,
"
Rowena said, winking at Douglas.

Hildegarde sat down beside the princess. Lines of worry wrinkled her forehead.
"
I know why you have troubles in this castle, my lord,
"
she said. "I stayed up all night and discovered the evil secret.
"

"Secret?" Douglas raised his head, his skin prickling with apprehension. Faith, had he been found out already? "What secret?" he demanded with all the bravado he could muster.

G
emma had called an emergency council in the pleasure garden to give lessons in royal protocol. Mrs. MacVittie's book passed from hand to hand, the elaborate sketches eliciting sniggers and outbursts of alarm.

Baldwin peered nearsightedly at the pictures.
"
And they call pirates nasty. All these French noblemen do is eat and have orgies. My old brain is shocked."

Mrs. MacVittie, standing over him, smiled. "A valid observation, Mr. McGee. The French Court is famous for its licentious behavior.
"

" 'Tis lewd too," Willie exclaimed. "Gemma read that the king
'
s own brother dresses up like a woman and dances with men.
"

Baldwin shook his head. "That doesna bother me as much as the part about the courtiers using the fireplaces as a privy."

"Wouldn
'
t that put the fires out?
"
Willie wondered aloud.

"
I do not care to discuss such things,
"
Gemma said. "I called you here to practice protocol. Baldwin, as castle steward, do you know what your duties are regarding the princess?"

He looked uncertain.
"
Aye.
"

"
'Tis your responsibility to see to her comfort,
"
Mrs. MacVittie said.
"
This is a position of some importance."

"
Ye mean I
'
m to bring her a hot brick if her feet feel cold, or a cup of peppermint tea if she gets a little windy after supper?"

Gemma sank down on the bench, staring forlornly at the dead leaves scattering across the flagstones. "
'
Tis hopeless.
"

Mrs. MacVittie patted her on the shoulder.
"
I do not think you need worry about the princess getting a little
'
windy,
'
Mr. McGee,
"
she said tactfully.
"
As to her cold feet, well, her companion can handle that personal matter.
'
Tis
your
duty to show Her Royal Highness around the castle and make sure she always has a supply of candles to see in the dark.
"

"
Don
'
t curtsy to her again, or I'll gut you,
"
Gemma added.

"There will be no need for that,
"
Mrs. MacVittie said diplomatically.
"
Mr. McGee understands his part, don
'
t you?
"

"What part?" Baldwin said.

Mrs. MacVittie shook her head. Then she
turned to the frail-looking woman who stood alone by the hedge. "And you, Frances," she said, "how are your preparations coming for the feast?"

"There isn't going to be a feast if I can
'
t find any decent food.
"
Her delicate face sour, Frances
folded her arms over her chest. Her blond curls were piled loosely on her head in a beribboned topknot.
"
All we have in the storeroom are oats and dried peas. Hardly royal fare. I gave a supper once for a duke in the bawdyhouse. He told me he ate queer things like fish eggs and peacocks and
—
and oysters on the half-shell,
"
she said excitedly. "Surely we can manage some oysters.
"

"
Common folk eat oysters,
"
Gemma said with a frown.

Willie threw a stone into the air. "The nearest market town is four days ride each way. The oysters would stink to heaven before you cooked them. Douglas wouldn't want us to poison the poor princess.
"

"The cove is only a few miles away,
"
Mrs. MacVittie said thoughtfully. "I have never eaten a Dunmoral oyster, if such a thing exists, but I do believe the viscount mentions mollusks on a menu for the king.
"

"
'
Tis worth a try.
"
Gemma cast an anxious look at the keep.
"
They must be done with breakfast by now. I suppose we
'
ll have to put in an appearance, or the princess will think we
'
re ignorant peasants.
"

"We are,
"
Baldwin said.

Gemma looked over at Frances.
"
You didn
'
t meet her last night. Are you coming?
"

Frances shook her head. Gemma suspected that while the woman was happy to work herself ragged to please Douglas, she privately believed he'd prefer her to stay out of sight on account of her past as a prostitute.

"Come and meet her, Frances,
"
she said.

"Are you joking?
"
Frances straightened her apron. "I have a bloody feast to prepare.
'
Tis going to take magic to turn oatmeal bannocks into a banquet.
"

D
ouglas leaned back in the ornately carved oak chair on the dais. His languid pose gave no hint he was on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.
"
Secret?" He smiled as if sharing a private joke.
"
Don
'
t tell me you
'
ve discovered tulip bulbs under your bed. I believ
e they were left there to germi
nate about a decade ago by the dotty old earl.
"

Rowena smiled. "What a peculiar way to speak of one
'
s late father.
"