men of beauty and wit, and although your beauty is small, your wit is great!”
Skye curtseyed politely, and then she and Edmond de Beaumont made their way from the hall. When they had exited the overly hot and noisy room Skye asked, “Where are you taking me, m’sieur?”
“I am housed here at Whitehall. My apartments are not far.” He moved swiftly along, his short legs seeming to take greater strides than her own long ones. Finally he turned down a corridor and entered the second apartment on the left. Skye recognized the section of the palace as the one in which state visitors were housed.
A swarthy man hurried forward as they entered the antechamber. “Good evening, M’sieur de Beaumont,” he said.
“Guy, this is Lady Burke, who is to marry my uncle. I am going to do her miniature tonight and ship it off to the duc tomorrow. Fetch my paints!”
“My felicitations, madame,” Guy said. “Your paints, m’sieur. At once!”
“He has been with me since my childhood,” Edmond de Beaumont said. “Sit over there, on that tapestried chair, Skye. Damn me, my dear, you are beautiful, aren’t you? Your skin! I don’t think I have the skill to capture its luminescence. When we get back to Beaumont de Jaspre I want to do a full portrait of you.” He rattled on nonstop while Guy brought him his easel, a canvas, his paints and brushes. He was quickly and totally absorbed in what he was doing.
“Would Madame enjoy some chilled wine?” Guy was at her elbow inquiring politely.
“I should, thank you, Guy.”
The servant was quickly back with a delicate Venetian crystal goblet of a fruity pale-rose-colored wine. “It is m’sieur’s favorite,” he explained. “I think you will enjoy it,
Madame la duchesse.
”
Madame la duchesse!
God’s bones! Skye thought. I am to be Madame la Duchesse! Then she thought of how Cecil had lied to her about the duc’s health. Well, there was nothing she could do about that now, but if the duc turned out to be a kind man she was going to try to bring her younger children to Beaumont de Jaspre. Ewan and Murrough were old enough to survive without her. Her poor O’Flaherty sons; they had had so little of her. She sighed. There was no help for it now. The others, however, she
must
have with her. True, Robin and Willow were already away from home for part of the year; but she had always been able to see them. Being sent to live in another country was a totally different thing.
The Lynmouth holdings would be safe from plunder for their little earl was an Englishman. Richard de Grenville and Adam de Marisco would see to it for her. Uncle Seamus would have to oversee the Burke lands, and she would ask Elizabeth FitzGerald Clinton, the Countess of Lincoln, to help him. Beth was an Irish woman, and would understand her plight. It was a chance that would have to be taken, for Skye could not leave her babies. With the Queen’s support and her strong family ties, she felt she could protect her children’s wealth even from as far as Beaumont de Jaspre.
How heartless of Cecil! He knew that the duc was relativelyyoung, and healthy; and yet he had deliberately misled her into believing otherwise so she would agree to go and aid his mistress, the Queen, by her sacrifice. It mattered not a whit to Cecil that Padraic was but newly born, and wee Deirdre yet an infant. He cruelly and selfishly tore her from her children simply in order to advance the Queen’s political aims.
I will never trust the English again
, she thought. Yet there was her beloved Geoffrey, who had never hurt her, and Adam de Marisco and Robbie, and Dame Cecily.
“God’s nightshirt!” she swore.
“You’re frowning,” Edmond de Beaumont said. “Don’t frown, sweet Skye. Give me that little half-smile you have when you are deep in thought as you have been.”
She smiled at him. “Tell me about Beaumont de Jaspre,” she said.
“It’s a fairyland,” he answered. “It is no more than five miles in width,
Skye curtseyed politely, and then she and Edmond de Beaumont made their way from the hall. When they had exited the overly hot and noisy room Skye asked, “Where are you taking me, m’sieur?”
“I am housed here at Whitehall. My apartments are not far.” He moved swiftly along, his short legs seeming to take greater strides than her own long ones. Finally he turned down a corridor and entered the second apartment on the left. Skye recognized the section of the palace as the one in which state visitors were housed.
A swarthy man hurried forward as they entered the antechamber. “Good evening, M’sieur de Beaumont,” he said.
“Guy, this is Lady Burke, who is to marry my uncle. I am going to do her miniature tonight and ship it off to the duc tomorrow. Fetch my paints!”
“My felicitations, madame,” Guy said. “Your paints, m’sieur. At once!”
“He has been with me since my childhood,” Edmond de Beaumont said. “Sit over there, on that tapestried chair, Skye. Damn me, my dear, you are beautiful, aren’t you? Your skin! I don’t think I have the skill to capture its luminescence. When we get back to Beaumont de Jaspre I want to do a full portrait of you.” He rattled on nonstop while Guy brought him his easel, a canvas, his paints and brushes. He was quickly and totally absorbed in what he was doing.
“Would Madame enjoy some chilled wine?” Guy was at her elbow inquiring politely.
“I should, thank you, Guy.”
The servant was quickly back with a delicate Venetian crystal goblet of a fruity pale-rose-colored wine. “It is m’sieur’s favorite,” he explained. “I think you will enjoy it,
Madame la duchesse.
”
Madame la duchesse!
God’s bones! Skye thought. I am to be Madame la Duchesse! Then she thought of how Cecil had lied to her about the duc’s health. Well, there was nothing she could do about that now, but if the duc turned out to be a kind man she was going to try to bring her younger children to Beaumont de Jaspre. Ewan and Murrough were old enough to survive without her. Her poor O’Flaherty sons; they had had so little of her. She sighed. There was no help for it now. The others, however, she
must
have with her. True, Robin and Willow were already away from home for part of the year; but she had always been able to see them. Being sent to live in another country was a totally different thing.
The Lynmouth holdings would be safe from plunder for their little earl was an Englishman. Richard de Grenville and Adam de Marisco would see to it for her. Uncle Seamus would have to oversee the Burke lands, and she would ask Elizabeth FitzGerald Clinton, the Countess of Lincoln, to help him. Beth was an Irish woman, and would understand her plight. It was a chance that would have to be taken, for Skye could not leave her babies. With the Queen’s support and her strong family ties, she felt she could protect her children’s wealth even from as far as Beaumont de Jaspre.
How heartless of Cecil! He knew that the duc was relativelyyoung, and healthy; and yet he had deliberately misled her into believing otherwise so she would agree to go and aid his mistress, the Queen, by her sacrifice. It mattered not a whit to Cecil that Padraic was but newly born, and wee Deirdre yet an infant. He cruelly and selfishly tore her from her children simply in order to advance the Queen’s political aims.
I will never trust the English again
, she thought. Yet there was her beloved Geoffrey, who had never hurt her, and Adam de Marisco and Robbie, and Dame Cecily.
“God’s nightshirt!” she swore.
“You’re frowning,” Edmond de Beaumont said. “Don’t frown, sweet Skye. Give me that little half-smile you have when you are deep in thought as you have been.”
She smiled at him. “Tell me about Beaumont de Jaspre,” she said.
“It’s a fairyland,” he answered. “It is no more than five miles in width,
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