were married when you were my age, Grandmama,” Cynara said pertly. She tossed her dark head, and her curls bounced.
“It was a different time and a different place,” Jasmine answered. “My father was not well, and he wanted me settled before he died. My foster mother was not particularly happy about my youthful marriage at all.”
“Did your husband make love to you right away?” Cynara queried her grandmother, wickedly.
“Whether he did, or he didn’t, is not a topic for discussion!” Jasmine turned to her daughter-in-law, whose face was flaming at this point. “Really, Barbara! Have you no control over this girl? What Fancy must think of her I can only imagine.”
Fancy, however, was already fascinated with her cousin Cynara. Cynara was so very beautiful, and she seemed so sophisticated, even though she was a year younger than Frances Devers. Wisely, though, Fancy said, “Would you think me rude, Grandmama, if I asked to be shown to my room? My travels have been quite fatiguing.”
“Of course not, dear child,” Jasmine said quickly. She arose. “I shall take you. I have chosen your room myself. It is near to mine, and Diana is on the other side of you.” She linked her arm in Fancy’s and led her from the hall.
“What do you think?” the duke of Lundy asked his wife.
“She is lovely,” Barbara Stuart replied. “Is it not interesting how alike she, Cynara, and Diana look? She is tired now, but in a few days we shall get to know her better, but Charlie, I think your mama’s judgment will hold as it usually does in these matters.”
The duke of Lundy nodded in agreement. “I suspect that you are correct, my dear,” he responded.
“Does Grandmama think she killed her husband?” Cynara asked her parents boldly.
The duchess of Lundy closed her eyes in exasperation. Cynara was so damned reckless in her speech. And her acts, Barbara Stuart thought. What was going to become of her?
“There is no evidence that your cousin killed anyone, Cynara,” her father said quietly. “I will appreciate you not repeating gossip, especially unproven gossip.” He stared hard at his youngest daughter.
“Well then, why is it said of her that she did?” Cynara demanded.
“There was some terrible tragedy,” the duke explained. “Even I do not know the truth of the matter. But you will keep in mind that if a crime had been committed, then your cousin would have been charged, and she was not. A bridegroom dying after his wedding is very unusual. It is precisely because there is little knowledge of what happened that people have decided to make up these stories, Cynara. I hope that you will never find yourself the subject of such gossip.”
“Does Grandmama know?” Diana ventured softly.
“I believe she does,” the duke replied.
“Poor Fancy,” Diana said. “How difficult it must have been for her to lose her bridegroom in some dreadful manner. And then be sent away from all she knows and loves for her reputation’s sake.”
“You left Glenkirk when you were eleven,” Cynara said, “and it hasn’t affected you at all, Siren.”
“But I was delighted to leave the Highlands, Cyn,” Diana answered. “I far prefer the elegance and sophistication of England. And I shall one day make a good marriage here. It would have been difficult for me to do that at Glenkirk. Besides, my family comes south almost every summer to visit. And next year my sister, Mair, will join us. Fancy, however, has crossed an ocean to come to Grandmama. When will she ever see her brothers and sisters, or her parents again?”
The duke smiled warmly at his niece. Diana Leslie was always so thoughtful of others. He had never known such sweetness and often wondered where she had gotten it. And yet when called up to be strong, Diana was exactly that. She was unlike his youngest child, and yet the two, so different, were fast friends. They had been since that summer his mother had asked his brother to leave Diana with them. The duke of Lundy had always hoped Diana would be a good influence on his daughter, but it did not seem that way. Yet there was a bright side to the situation. Cynara had been unable to foist her naughty ways on her cousin. “You have a good heart, pet,” he told Diana.
Cynara rolled her blue eyes, but then she grinned. “Let’s go see what kind of clothing our cousin has brought with her from the Colonies. Her traveling gown wasn’t half-bad at all. I would not have thought a little colonial so fashionable. And what jewelry does she possess, I wonder? Grandmama will give her some, certainly. She has so much,” Cynara noted. “Don’t you just love the ruby ring she gave me for my last birthday?” She flashed the gem before them as she did at least several times daily.
“Please allow your cousin to settle herself before you burst in on her, Cynara,” her mother suggested. “There will be plenty of time to rifle through her possessions over the next few weeks before we go to court. Fancy will be tired, and want to rest.”
“Oh, very well,” Cynara said, then turned to Diana. “Let’s go riding,” she suggested. “We just need to change our gowns.”
“Go for a walk in the gardens,” her father said sternly, “and leave your grandmother alone with this new grandchild. She has missed my sister all these years and is thrilled to be able to have at least one of Fortune’s children with her at long last.”
“The gardens are lovely right now,” the duchess responded, helpfully.
“There are new puppies in the kennels,” Diana volunteered.
“Ohh!” Cynara exclaimed, excitedly. She loved dogs, and had been promised a new puppy from the next litter to be born. “Are they Bella’s?” she inquired.
“Yes,” Diana said with a smile.
“I get first pick!” Cynara responded.
“You know that I prefer cats to dogs,” Diana reminded her cousin as the two girls hurried from the hall.
The duke of Lundy chuckled. “I do believe that with Diana’s help we have saved Fancy from our daughter. At least for the time being,” he amended with a grin.
“Fancy looks so sad,” the duchess remarked. “Poor child! I hope she will come to love and trust us.”
“Why is it,” the duke wondered, “that Cynara did not get your kind heart?”
“She is like my father. Practical,” the duchess said. “And like my mother. Determined to have her own way in all things.”
“You rarely speak of your parents,” he noted.
“No, I do not,” the duchess replied. “My father is long dead, and my mother died just before my first husband, Squire Randall. She was always jealous of my father’s love for me and would have allowed that brute of a second husband of hers to put me into service, even though I had not been raised to be a servant. Thank God for Madame Skye! Who knows what would have happened to me if it hadn’t been for her.”
“She was a remarkable woman,” the duke of Lundy agreed. “I wonder what she would think of these three great-great-granddaughters of hers, all of whom resemble her most strongly. My mother grows more like her each day,” he remarked.
His
