This Heart of Mine (12 page)

The air in this bedchamber at Lynmouth House was redolent with the scent of gillyflowers, and Pansy was hanging two large, soft towels before the fire to warm.

“Oh, I wish I could live here at Robin’s house whenever we were in London, Pansy! Just to be able to bathe every day again would be heaven.”

“Aye,” agreed Pansy. “I don’t think much myself of those fine ladies at court who use perfume to cover the stink of their bodies instead of good honest soap and water. Come now, Mistress Velvet, and I’ll help you to undress.”

Velvet stood as her tiring woman quickly and efficiently stripped the clothes from her slender form. “Did you bring along the new sea-green gown, Pansy? I should like to wear it tonight. I want Robin to see how grown-up I’ve become.” Velvet now stepped into her tub and sat down. “Umm,” she murmured, closing her eyes as a blissful look spread over her face.

Pansy smiled merrily at her mistress and chattered on, “Aye, I’ve brought the sea-green and the topaz gold silk for the earl’s fête when you’ll be his hostess. Y’know, mistress, I will wager that his lordship would want you to make this fine house your home when you’re in London with the court. Why don’t you ask him? I’ve never known him to be ungenerous, and next to your sister, Lady Willow, you’ve always been his favorite.”

Velvet nodded. Kneeling, Pansy took up a cake of hard-milled cream-colored soap and began to bathe her mistress. When she had finished, she washed Velvet’s hair, dumping several buckets of warm water over her to rinse it. Velvet then stepped from her tub, to be wrapped in a large, hot towel. She sat down on a small wooden stool in front of the fire while Pansy dried her hair and perfumed it with her personal scent. Slipping into a rose silk chamber robe, Velvet lay down in the lovely big bed with its plump feather pillows to sleep until it was time for dinner.

When Pansy woke her, she felt more refreshed and relaxed than she had since she left
Queen’s Malvern.
She put on her silken undergarments; outrageously extravagant pink silk stockings embroidered with heart-shaped leaves, with silver lace garters; several petticoats; a small farthingale; and finally her new sea-green gown. The tight bodice slipped over her torso like a second skin, its neckline coming just barely to the tops of her small, full breasts. Velvet stared, blushed, and then said in a hesitant voice, “Pansy, do you think this neckline too low?”

Pansy stepped back and viewed her mistress critically. “Nay, ’tis just as the fashion dictates. You’re simply not used to it.”

Velvet continued to stare into the glass for a minute longer. The gown really was lovely. The sleeves were embroidered in tiny paler green glass beads that formed ivy leaves and vines, as was the lighter green underskirt. The hem of the overskirt was decorated with small silver bows. She wore no jewelry except the large pearls in her ears that her parents had sent from the Indies for her last birthday. They had not arrived until recently, however, and had been sent down from
Queen’s Malvern
by Dame Cecily.

Seating herself at the dressing table, Velvet silently watched as Pansy did her hair: parting it in the middle, wrapping it into a soft chignon at the nape of her neck, and teasing the little side curls about her beautiful face. Velvet then daubed on her perfume, enjoying its heady fragrance as she did so.

“His lordship will be amazed at you,” Pansy said worshipfully as Velvet stood up and slipped her feet into her green silk shoes.

“I would not want Robin to be ashamed of having asked me to be his hostess for him tomorrow. He really is a very elegant gentleman. Tonight I shall try out my best manners on him and his friend, Lord Gordon. Perhaps I shall even attempt flirting with the gentleman.”

“I would have thought you got enough of that at court,” Pansy replied.

“Ha!” snapped Velvet. “With Wat and Scamp protecting my virtue so assiduously? Most of the gentlemen are afraid to come near me for fear of provoking a duel.”

Pansy chuckled. “ ’Tis just as well, mistress. You’re a betrothed young lady, if you’ll remember.”

As she was leaving her apartment, Velvet turned and made a rude face at her tiring woman.
Betrothed!
God’s blood, how she hated the very thought of it! She wondered if the wild Scotsman had arrived at
Queen’s Malvern
yet and what his reaction to her absence had been. Well, he had his nerve thinking that a highborn young Englishwoman would just sit there waiting for him to marry her! Never since they had been betrothed those long years ago had he ever been to see her, or written to her. No small presents on her birthday or New Year’s or Twelfth Night. And now! A cold, abrupt letter announcing
his
arrival a full year in advance of the pre-arranged date, saying that
he
desired an immediate marriage. It was not to be borne! He was obviously a rude clod, a bumpkin. The nerve of the fellow! He could damned well go to the devil!

Velvet had no idea how her silent outrage heightened her color as she descended the staircase, making her look even
more beautiful this evening than she usually did. Watching her come down, Robin was stunned. Where was the charming
little
girl he had so loved? There was something about this Velvet, perhaps the tilt of her head, that reminded him of their mother once long ago when she was angered over something.

Alexander Gordon, seeing Velvet come nearer and nearer to him, felt his heart quicken with excitement. She was a thousand times lovelier than any painting, and seeing her he realized that he
must
have her. He could not allow any other man to possess her. Suddenly he wondered if he would be able to speak, for he felt his voice had disappeared. My God! Was he a green boy to be so affected by a little wench?

Stopping two steps from the bottom, Velvet focused her gaze on the two men and smiled. “Well, Robin,” she teased, “do you look so surprised because I look most presentable or because I look most unpresentable?”

The Earl of Lynmouth laughed. “Dearest Velvet,” he said, “you are more than presentable. You are outrageously fair, sister, and far more grown-up than I ever expected you to be.”

“Twas time for me to grow up, was it not?” Velvet said softly.

“I cannot help but wonder whether our mother and Adam will agree to that, sister. You are their precious babe, and this change has come about in the time that they’ve been away.”

For a moment brother and sister stood looking at each other in total silence, and then Velvet said quietly, “Will you not introduce me to your friend, Robin?”

Recalling his duties as a host, he replied, “Velvet de Marisco, may I present to you Alexander, Lord Gordon. Alex, my sister, Velvet.”

From her place two steps up the staircase, Velvet regally stretched out her slender hand as she had seen the queen do. When Alex had kissed it and straightened up once more, Velvet was somewhat startled to find that he was at eye level with her. Then with a gentle pressure on her fingers he drew her down those last two steps, and she discovered that she had to look up at him despite her own height.

His amber eyes, gazing into her green ones, twinkled mischievously as he fully realized his advantage and felt the confidence flow back into his veins.

“Why, fie, my lord, do you seek to flirt with me?” Velvet inquired with equal mischief. She fluttered her thick eyelashes at him.

“It is impossible not to flirt with you, mistress,” was his swift reply, and Velvet laughed.

“You will be a great success at court, my lord, for you are quick,” she said, and then feeling Alex’s grip relax she gracefully freed her hand.

Robin Southwood breathed a soft sigh of relief. Velvet had not recognized “Lord Gordon” as the Earl of BrocCairn, and she seemed to tolerate him. Moreover, it was immediately obvious that Alex was totally besotted with the minx, the Lord God help him.

When the rest of the evening went equally well, Robin could not believe his good fortune. They ate an excellent dinner, just the three of them, and the conversation around the table was amusing and witty.

Velvet flirted shamelessly with Alex. They played at cards, and she then went to bed early feeling quite satisfied that her female powers were potent and in excellent working order.

“Do you think we might tell her who I am?” Alex asked later as he and Robin sat before the library fire drinking some excellent peat whiskey that he had brought his host. “She is a sweet girl, not at all the formidable creature I envisioned.”

“No,” Robin replied. “If you tell her, she will feel trapped once more and flee you. You only met tonight. Give her time to know you.”

“But she seemed to like me, Robin, and she is a most charming flirt.”

“She is a young girl trying out her skill at seduction for the first time, Alex. I know you are enchanted with her, for I can see it in your eyes, but be patient, my old friend. She is so damned innocent and idealistic that she will feel terribly betrayed if you tell her now. Let her know you better first.”

Alexander Gordon sighed, but nodded his agreement. It would not be easy to practice patience now, having met Velvet. Why, several times tonight, he had come perilously near to sweeping her into his arms and kissing her enticing mouth. He wondered what she would have done had he given in to his desires. Would she have melted into his embrace, or would she have grown angry at his apparent boldness? After all, she was his by virtue of their betrothal.
She was his
, and no other man could have her! Hot and irritable with sudden jealousy, he slept restlessly that night.

The following morning it seemed as if Lynmouth House was erupting. The footmen hurried purposefully about seeing that
all the silver, gold, and crystal was polished and gleaming. Every candle from simple sticks to those that lit the great chandeliers were replaced with fresh beeswax tapers. Tables were carried out into the gardens where supper would be served to the court. There were maids running to and fro setting the tables, and others who were set to washing, sweeping, and polishing. The guests would start to arrive in the late afternoon, and all must be in readiness.

Robin wanted this great fête to be especially enjoyable for Elizabeth Tudor. She had been a great friend of his father’s, and for Robin’s whole life, despite the constant battles of will she waged with his mother, England’s queen had been his friend and his patroness also.

These last months had been filled with personal tragedy and trauma for the queen. She had finally had to admit to herself that her cousin Mary Stewart meant her serious harm. She had been forced to end that threat by ending Mary’s life. It had not been an easy decision, and it was one that still haunted her.

Now her brother-in-law, Philip of Spain, had amassed a monstrous naval armada and was preparing to send it against England. From all reports, Spain’s position was impregnable and they stood a good chance of conquering England. Still, the queen was determined that no foreign power would prevail over her kingdom. Recently she had avoided several assassination plots thanks to Sir Francis Walsingham’s excellent secret service, but the strain was beginning to show. Tonight at least, thought the young Earl of Lynmouth, the queen can feel she is safe among friends, and enjoy herself.

Robin smiled as he gazed over his exquisite riverside gardens hung with lanterns that by evening would be twinkling like golden fireflies. The trees were filled with silver cages containing songbirds of various species. The tables were covered in snow white damask cloths with bright green silk runners, the Tudor colors. There were silver bowls filled with pink damask roses up and down the board. A musicians’ gallery painted silver had been built in the center of the gardens so that everyone could easily hear the music, and Robin had hired a company of players to act in scenes depicting the great moments in the queen’s reign to date. Master Marlowe, London’s current favorite playwright, had written the sketches and would also perform in them. Robin had arranged with an Italian fireworks maker for a magnificent display of fireworks to delight the queen and her court at midnight. It would be a perfect evening.

“Oh, Robin, how beautiful you are!”

The earl turned and smiled warmly at his young sister. “Then you approve of my garb, poppet?” He was dressed in cream-colored velvets and silks embroidered with gold threads, small diamonds, pearls, and pale blue zircons. His golden blond hair was like his late father’s in its silken texture and its natural wave. He wore it neatly cropped, but one recalcitrant lock fell over his forehead.

“May I return the compliment, Mistress de Marisco? Your gown is exquisite!” Robin’s lime-green eyes sparkled with approval.

Velvet pirouetted proudly for him. “The gown was made at
Queen’s Malvern
after I left and then sent on to London. I chose this fabric from the storage room.”

Robin smiled. “You chose well, my dear,” he said, and Velvet preened beneath his approving gaze.

It was indeed the most grown-up dress she had ever worn, and she was no longer uncomfortable with the very low neckline that fashion seemed to dictate these days. The gown was entirely made of topaz gold silk, the underskirt embroidered with copper threads, small freshwater pearls, and tiny topazes in a pattern of flowers and butterflies. The full sleeves were trimmed with gold lace at the wrists, and small, gold cloth bows were scattered up and down their fullness. There were matching bows strewn over her bell-shaped skirt. Her beautiful auburn hair had been dressed in an elegant chignon, and there were tiny gold bows decorating it.

“You have no jewelry,” Robin noted.

“Only the pearl earbobs Mama and Papa sent me for my birthday,” Velvet answered.

Robin signaled to one of his footmen. “Find Master Browne,” he said, “and tell him I wish a single rope of black pearls for Mistress de Marisco.”

“Oh, Robin! How can I thank you for the loan of such pearls? They will make me perfect, and so I should be, standing by your side, my lord Earl of Lynmouth.”

“They are not a loan, Velvet. They are a gift. I did not send you a gift this year, or last year either for that matter, and never before have I forgotten your birthday.”