first question to William was, ‘And how is Mistress Scott?’
‘She is well, sir.’
Martin nodded. ‘Excellent, excellent,’ was the correct reply, having striven through the years to hide his disappointment in young William’s choice of the woman with whom he wished to share his life.
Not that Martin had anything personal against Tansy Scott. On the several occasions when they had met, he had been agreeably surprised by her charm, her kindness and outstanding good looks. His reason was more practical. Simply that her presence in William’s life had put an end to him ever marrying and raising a family of his own.
He could never quite understand why the lad, the bastard son of an infamous but undoubtedly attractive father, had chosen from all the women who would have made excellent wives, the estranged wife of a Fife laird. Estranged for the reason that she was barren, the shaming and unforgivable curse of womanhood, the death knell of queens.
The years had passed since Martin raised the subject of a suitable wife. If Walter Murray divorced Tansy, he knew that William would marry her at once. But still no bairns, a sterile marriage. The thought aggravated Martin, since forty was still an age of virility for men. Twenty years a widower, with eight living children, Martin had already been a grandfather at that age.
Sighing, he remembered his efforts to produce expensive supper parties through the years, inviting eligible Edinburgh young ladies for William’s benefit and seduction. Ladies, he suspected, who would have been more than eager for his amorous attentions, with parents who would have rejoiced and welcomed an eligible bachelor, bastard son of Queen Mary’s notorious third husband.
Martin’s secret but scandalous hope was still that the lad might be compromised and forced into marriage. Sadly for him, William obviously had not inherited James Hepburn’spromiscuous and irresponsible attitudes toward women either.
Nor did Martin’s plan deceive him. ‘You are a poor matchmaker , cousin Hailes,’ Will laughed, with a stubborn shake of his auburn curls. ‘You are wasting your time and money on lining up prospective brides for me. If I cannot have Tansy Scott, then I will remain unwed for the rest of my life. And that is my final word on the subject.’
Today however, William’s next words afforded his cousin a small gleam of hope. ‘Tansy has a distant cousin staying, from the Borders.’
‘And what is this lady like?’ Martin asked, daring to hope.
Will laughed. ‘You never give up, do you! This lady, cousin, is a bachelor, young and very handsome,’ he added with a teasing glance.
‘How old is he?’
‘Thirty-six.’ Again Martin’s hopes soared for a very different reason. A handsome cousin, thirty-six. Perhaps his prayers had been answered, and he had come to sweep Tansy Scott off her feet.
‘His name is Tam Eildor,’ William was saying. He frowned. ‘Do you know, something very strange happened when we first met.’
He hesitated for a moment and Martin asked, ‘Indeed. How so?’
William looked at him, bewildered. ‘You see, I thought I remembered him. From a visit at Morham long ago – ’
As he went on to describe that meeting in some detail, Eildor with two of the queen’s Maries, Seton and Fleming, himself sitting on his grandmother’s knee, aged four, Martin shook his head.
‘You must be mistaken. The man you met would now be as old as I am.’
Will shook his head. ‘However old he is, he looks exactly as he did thirty-six years ago.’
Martin studied him for a moment. ‘You must be mistaken,William. Border families often have a strong likeness. Inbreeding, you know, and the wrong side of the blanket.’
‘That is what Tansy is saying.’
‘I am sure she is correct in that.’ Pausing he glanced at Will. ‘But you are not convinced.’
Will frowned, shook his head, and Martin hoping to change the subject asked, ‘How goes it in the royal palace? Any new
‘She is well, sir.’
Martin nodded. ‘Excellent, excellent,’ was the correct reply, having striven through the years to hide his disappointment in young William’s choice of the woman with whom he wished to share his life.
Not that Martin had anything personal against Tansy Scott. On the several occasions when they had met, he had been agreeably surprised by her charm, her kindness and outstanding good looks. His reason was more practical. Simply that her presence in William’s life had put an end to him ever marrying and raising a family of his own.
He could never quite understand why the lad, the bastard son of an infamous but undoubtedly attractive father, had chosen from all the women who would have made excellent wives, the estranged wife of a Fife laird. Estranged for the reason that she was barren, the shaming and unforgivable curse of womanhood, the death knell of queens.
The years had passed since Martin raised the subject of a suitable wife. If Walter Murray divorced Tansy, he knew that William would marry her at once. But still no bairns, a sterile marriage. The thought aggravated Martin, since forty was still an age of virility for men. Twenty years a widower, with eight living children, Martin had already been a grandfather at that age.
Sighing, he remembered his efforts to produce expensive supper parties through the years, inviting eligible Edinburgh young ladies for William’s benefit and seduction. Ladies, he suspected, who would have been more than eager for his amorous attentions, with parents who would have rejoiced and welcomed an eligible bachelor, bastard son of Queen Mary’s notorious third husband.
Martin’s secret but scandalous hope was still that the lad might be compromised and forced into marriage. Sadly for him, William obviously had not inherited James Hepburn’spromiscuous and irresponsible attitudes toward women either.
Nor did Martin’s plan deceive him. ‘You are a poor matchmaker , cousin Hailes,’ Will laughed, with a stubborn shake of his auburn curls. ‘You are wasting your time and money on lining up prospective brides for me. If I cannot have Tansy Scott, then I will remain unwed for the rest of my life. And that is my final word on the subject.’
Today however, William’s next words afforded his cousin a small gleam of hope. ‘Tansy has a distant cousin staying, from the Borders.’
‘And what is this lady like?’ Martin asked, daring to hope.
Will laughed. ‘You never give up, do you! This lady, cousin, is a bachelor, young and very handsome,’ he added with a teasing glance.
‘How old is he?’
‘Thirty-six.’ Again Martin’s hopes soared for a very different reason. A handsome cousin, thirty-six. Perhaps his prayers had been answered, and he had come to sweep Tansy Scott off her feet.
‘His name is Tam Eildor,’ William was saying. He frowned. ‘Do you know, something very strange happened when we first met.’
He hesitated for a moment and Martin asked, ‘Indeed. How so?’
William looked at him, bewildered. ‘You see, I thought I remembered him. From a visit at Morham long ago – ’
As he went on to describe that meeting in some detail, Eildor with two of the queen’s Maries, Seton and Fleming, himself sitting on his grandmother’s knee, aged four, Martin shook his head.
‘You must be mistaken. The man you met would now be as old as I am.’
Will shook his head. ‘However old he is, he looks exactly as he did thirty-six years ago.’
Martin studied him for a moment. ‘You must be mistaken,William. Border families often have a strong likeness. Inbreeding, you know, and the wrong side of the blanket.’
‘That is what Tansy is saying.’
‘I am sure she is correct in that.’ Pausing he glanced at Will. ‘But you are not convinced.’
Will frowned, shook his head, and Martin hoping to change the subject asked, ‘How goes it in the royal palace? Any new
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