Part 10 (1/2)
She gave the youth a smile, accepted a gla.s.s of sherry from a footman, then turned her attention to Lady Montague, whom she hadn't met before. The woman was a st.u.r.dy, no-nonsense Scot, fully capable of running a household full of horse-mad men. ”I hear you've charmed Sheba away from my husband.” Her ladys.h.i.+p gave him an affectionate glance. ”He's always been daft for a pretty woman.”
”That's why I married you, my girl. You were the prettiest la.s.s in the north country,” her husband said with a twinkle. ”And the bargain Ballister and I concluded gives us Sheba's first foal.”
Duncan raised his gla.s.s. ”A good bargain is one where both sides feel well satisfied. May all our bargains be good ones.”
Everyone drank to that cheerfully. Then politics reared its ugly head. William raised his gla.s.s and said, ”A toast to the king over the water!”
It was a common Jacobite toast to the exiled Stuarts, and the young man's words created instant silence. Duncan said peaceably, ”I believe that George is in London now, not Hanover, but to the king's health wherever he may be.”
The older Montagues would have been happy to let it go at that, but William said, ”The Hanovers are not our true kings. They are coa.r.s.e, stupid Germans, unfit to sit on a British throne. The Stuarts are our legitimate rulers.”
”William . . . ,” his father said warningly.
Ignoring the caution, William said defiantly, ”Scotland has been treated abominably by the Hanovers. Surely no Scot can deny that.”
William's words were treason, and his parents' tense expressions showed they knew it. Wanting to change the subject, Gwynne asked her host, ”Have the Montagues always been horse breeders, or are you the first?”
Ignoring her feeble attempt at distraction, William said to Duncan, ”To see the prince is to recognize true royalty. The day will come when all of Britain will acknowledge him.”
Uneasily Gwynne saw that this conversation wasn't only about politics, but about her. William wanted to impress her and humiliate Duncan. The fool.
”The Stuarts had their chance,” Duncan said dryly. ”If James II had ruled like a sensible man and not converted to Catholicism, he could have kept his throne, but he was a fool, and his heirs have been equally foolish. James Francis probably could have had the throne when Queen Anne died if he had moved quickly and turned Protestant, but he let the opportunity fall through his hands and now the time has pa.s.sed. Though Charles Edward may be das.h.i.+ng, he hasn't enough support to overthrow the government.”
”Unfortunately, he has enough support to cause many deaths,” Lady Montague said with a frown. ” Let us speak no more of this. It's time to go into dinner.”
Standing firm, William spat at Duncan, ”Prince Charles has only to set foot in England and Jacobites will rise everywhere to support him, as they are doing in Scotland. How many men will rally to the Hanoverian king once his troops start losing battles?”
”When you are older, perhaps you'll come to realize that being das.h.i.+ng isn't a good trait in a king,” Duncan said with lethal coolness. ”Especially not when paired with a belief that royal blood gives him a divine right to do any d.a.m.n-fool thing he wants. A boring monarch who keeps to his mistresses and spends much of his time on the Continent may not be as exciting, but he's a safer ruler.”
Fury flashed in William's eyes, but before he could offer another retort, his father snapped, ”If you speak one more word on the subject of Jacobites, I'll send you to your room, young man! Now let us eat.” He offered his arm to Gwynne.
Gwynne winced inwardly as William's face turned scarlet. He had wanted to impress her, and instead he was being treated as a child. She gave him a swift, sympathetic smile. His expression eased and he inclined his head before spinning on his heel and stalking from the room, his back ramrod straight.
Thinking it would a more relaxed dinner without the young firebrand present, Gwynne accompanied her host into the dining room.
”He's but a boy, Lady Ballister,” Lord Montague said, his expression anxious. ”His words aren't to be taken seriously.”
His concern was understandable. William might be young, but he was old enough to be executed for treason, and perhaps bring his whole family to disaster. With a rebellion in Scotland, English authorities wouldn't be inclined to leniency. Gwynne said rea.s.suringly, ”It is usual for the young to be romantic about lost causes. There's no reason for us to mention it elsewhere.”
Montague's expression eased. ”I knew you for a sensible woman.”
”I make no claim to politics, but like most females, I have no use for war.”
His lords.h.i.+p sighed. ”When I was William's age, I thought war a grand and n.o.ble enterprise. Fight for the right! Show your courage! Now I know better.”
”Are you afraid he'll run off and join the Young Pretender?” she asked quietly.
His stricken expression was answer enough. She suggested, ”Say you want to buy new breeding stock and send him off to India or America or some other distant place where he can have adventures that don't involve civil war.”
An interested light showed in his eyes. As he pulled out her chair, he said, ”That's good advice, Lady Ballister. Perhaps I'll do just that. Thank you.” His smile was so warm it was almost alarming, but he moved away to the head of the table without saying more.
Despite the tenseness caused by William's political proclamations, the dinner went well. Besides Gwynne and Duncan and the senior Montagues, there were half a dozen other members of the household, including the oldest son and heir, George, and his wife.
Tired by the long day, Gwynne was glad when Lady Montague rose and led the ladies off so the gentlemen could talk over their port. Gwynne wondered if the men would venture into politics again, or stay with the safer topic of horses.
She chatted with the ladies only as long as was polite before retiring to her bedchamber. After changing into her nightgown and braiding her hair, she pulled open the draperies at the windows and went to bed, wondering how long it would be before Duncan joined her. Ah, well, if she fell asleep he could always wake her. . . .
The hand on her shoulder brought Gwynne to sleepy awareness. She smiled, the darkness making her acutely aware that desire hummed in the air, along with a distinct scent of alcohol. ”Come to bed, my dear.”
She reached for Duncan, and touched a face that was unfamiliar. Snapping to full wakefulness, she asked, ”Who's here?”
”Shhh . . .” The whisper was urgent. ”We've come to rescue you.”
”William?” Incredulous, she sat up in bed, clutching the covers to her. The faint light from the window showed the strapping form of her host's youngest son and an even larger young man dressed as a servant. ”Is the house on fire?”
”No, no, I'm going to rescue you from that bullying Whig. Come with Jemmie and me, my lady.” He opened the window of a lantern to release more light. After handing the lantern to his servant, he pulled the covers away and tugged Gwynne to her feet. ”We must be quick, before we're discovered.”
The floor was cold under her bare feet, but she hardly noticed because of the thunderstruck way the two young men stared at her. In her satin nightgown, she was a sight fit only for the eyes of a husband. Blus.h.i.+ng furiously, she grabbed Duncan's banyan from where it was draped over a chair and wrapped it around her.
Once she was safely covered, she said in her best countess voice, ”How dare you enter my bedroom! I have no idea what you think you're doing, but you're foxed. Leave my room this instant and I'll pretend this never happened.”
William shook his head. His eyes were bright with some combination of drink and recklessness. ”I can't let him have you. You're a brave la.s.s to pretend all is well, but I heard him being rude to you. I saw how you smiled at me, as if you were pleading to be saved.”
Dear heaven, he must have interpreted her smiles of sympathy as interest in his immature self! ”You misunderstood everything. I consider myself blessed to have Ballister as my husband, and I need no rescue.” She tugged the robe around her more tightly. ”Now go!”
William's face hardened. ”A craven Whig who is betraying his own people doesn't deserve you! When the prince has conquered Britain, there will be honors and riches for his supporters, and I will keep you like the queen that you are. Our lives will be a glorious adventure.”
As she tried to edge away, William suddenly caught her in his arms and tried to kiss her. She managed to turn her head quickly enough so that his mouth landed on her cheek, not her lips. Revolted, she broke free but tripped on the trailing hem of the robe. She fell hard, banging her temple on the heavy bedpost.
As she lay dazed on the floor, a thick north country accent exclaimed with horror, ”My G.o.d, mon, you've killed her!”
Frantic hands turned her over and explored the throbbing side of her head. She could see and hear, but couldn't quite move. ”Nay, she's only stunned,” William said with relief. ”She'll be all right.”
Swiftly he wrapped her in blankets and carried her out into the dark corridor. ”Don't worry, my lady, ” he crooned. ”I'll take care of you.”
Immobilized by the blankets and the blow to her head, she couldn't even struggle as the young idiots abducted her. With all the concentration she could muster, she sent a cry for help to her husband, and prayed that she was Guardian enough to reach him.
Duncan enjoyed his discussion with Lord Montague and the other men of the household. They were sensible fellows, as alarmed by the prospect of civil war as he was. Perhaps this rebellion would die down quickly, before too many lives were lost.
The port was making another circuit when he felt a sharp tug in his mind. Gwynne? Used to disguising power, he finished what he was saying before a.n.a.lyzing what he'd felt. Was she having a nightmare? Fatigue might have sent her to bed early. Or was she with the other ladies and an argument had broken out?
Thinking it could be nothing serious, he continued with the evening's discussion, but anxiety gnawed at him. Finally, d.a.m.ning himself for an anxious bridegroom, he rose. ”Having been married less than a fortnight, I think I shall seek out my bride.”
George Montague, the heir, stood and raised his gla.s.s. ”Here's to the fairest lady in the North Country!”
”The loveliest woman in Europe!”