"I am afraid this is not a matter that can be decided hastily, Sir Ian," he said slowly, and was relieved to note that the door into the adjoining room closed gently again. "There are too many factors to be considered, so I can't give you an immediate reply."
"But you are interested?" The Scotsman tugged at his hat-brim.
"Oh yes." Jeremy tried to sound careless, almost indifferent.
"Perhaps Her Grace will receive you and will discuss the idea further with you herself." There was no denying Sir lan's persistence.
"I'd be honored to meet Her Grace."
"Could you accompany me now? I might persuade Her Grace to spare a few moments for the interview before the dinner party." The baronet rose, and his eyes never left Jeremy's.
The gunsmith smiled brightly. "There's nothing I'd like better," he declared warmly, thinking that nothing he had said to Sir Ian was truer. Standing, he turned toward the door to the bedchamber. "Hamilton!" he called sharply.
The man appeared with alacrity. "My hat and cloak, please," Jeremy said quickly, blandly ignoring the look of consternation on the servant's face. "Oh, and my sword. Hurry, man. Hurry!" he added as Hamilton stood indecisively, and he added emphasis to his words by scowling fiercely.
Sir Ian noticed nothing unusual about the valet's manner, however, and as the man raced off to do his "master's" bidding the baronet strolled idly about the room. Jeremy, watching him out of the corner of his eye, saw that he was taking in everything: the row of partly empty bottles and decanters in a grilled cupboard, the few books scattered on shelves, the bric-a-brac and ash receptacles, even the lone crude painting on the wall.
Hamilton, looking violently disturbed, hurried back into the room, and as he helped Jeremy into the cloak, he managed to whisper, "Please, Master Stone! Do not commit Master Bartlett to anything."
Jeremy pretended not to hear him. He jammed Terence Bartlett's hat on his head, feeling a faint trace of annoyance because it was too small. After buckling on the sword, he waved Sir Ian ahead of him, and as he himself was walking through the open door, he turned, grinned, and gave Hamilton an almost imperceptible wink.
Chapter Two
CAROLINE, Duchess of Glasgow, had stunned, then conquered the heart of every male in the New World who had seen her, and Jeremy Stone was no exception. Standing before her in the small sitting room of the governor's palace in which she had received him, he felt slightly lightheaded and his blood pounded. He felt awkward and gauche; he knew he was staring rudely at the Duchess and he was afraid that she would consider his clothes, Terence Bartlett's suit of which he had been so proud only a few minutes before, to be no more than shabby provincial finery. But in spite of his fears he could not tear his gaze from her.
Caroline was exceptionally tall for a woman, though small-boned, and her figure was slim and supple. She had reason to be proud of her body, and her gown did nothing to conceal it. Made of several layers of a white, gauzelike silk, the dress hugged every curve. Her arms, shoulders, and neck were bare, save for a priceless emerald necklace and matching bracelet. The gown was unique, almost shocking in one respect: unlike the floor-touching garments in vogue among women of every class in the colonies, it featured a skirt that ended at the calves of her shapely legs and showed off her slim ankles and dainty feet encased in gold, diamond-studded sandals.
Her hair was long and was elaborately arranged in a series of ascending soft waves topped by a mound of curls. Her mouth was red and full and ripe, and her eyes were large and a deep blue in color. Her only concession to the French craze for cosmetics was a star-shaped beauty mark attached to the smooth surface of her right cheekbone. In fact, the sole flaw in her loveliness was her Stuart chin, which was a trifle too long, too jutting, too strong. She was sleek but feminine, regal but not imperious, patrician but mild and sweet. While it was difficult to judge her age, she seemed no more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age.
She allowed Jeremy to gape at her and coolly, shrewdly, took stock of him. At last she spoke, and her voice was high, clear, and resonant, the voice of one accustomed to a constant round of public appearances. "You may sit, Master Bartlett. Sir Ian, you will perhaps oblige us by leaving us alone with our guest."
Sir Ian frowned and shook his head slightly. "If I may say so, Your Grace "
"You may not." Despite the rebuke, Caroline remained soft and pleasant. "We wish to speak with Master Bartlett alone."
Blood rose in the dark Scotsman's face, but he bowed low, then backed out of the chamber. He touched his hand to the latch, then rather pointedly removed his fingers and left the door ajar. The Duchess's finely drawn brows close a small fraction of an inch; otherwise she seemed in no wise perturbed by what could have been nothing less than a deliberate insult. Apparently dismissing her chamberlain from her mind, she smiled at Jeremy and a dimple appeared in her cheek just below the beauty mark. "You were good to disrupt the pleasures of your evening to come to me on such short notice, Master Bartlett."
"Not at all, Your Grace," Jeremy said. "I am honored, deeply honored, to be received by you." He was still on his feet, and when Caroline motioned him to a straight-backed, carved chair opposite her, he sat down abruptly.
"You have learned from Sir Ian of our departure for Port Royal in the West Indian islands within three days and of our hope that you will accompany us?" Despite the ease with which Caroline received him, her manner left no doubt that she was constantly aware of her position, of her heritage.
"Yes, Your Grace. Sir Ian has told me of your desires." He found himself wondering how a member of the house of Stuart would react to a kiss, and with an effort forced himself to concentrate on the conversation at hand.
"We need your assistance on this journey, Master Bartlett. There is the tall and small of the matter. There is much of a confidential nature that must be discussed with your uncle, Sir Arthur; we cannot tell you the nature of these topics at the present moment, but you have come highly recommended, and we are sure that you could act in our behalf when we cannot act ourself. It is sometimes less than convenient to claim the Queen of England as kin." She leaned forward, smiled again, and lowered her voice. "To be truthful with you, Master Bartlett, my station often hampers me in the performance of my duty. Will you help me?"
"I—I'm flattered, Your Grace." She was so close that Jeremy caught a breath of the pungent but elusive scent she used, and he became flustered.
But Caroline thought his hesitation stemmed from another cause. "Naturally you would be asked to do nothing that would prove a strain on you or your resources, Master Bartlett. Your passage and all of your expenses would be paid, of course. And in return for your time it would please us to make you a gift of fifty guineas."
Only with the greatest of will power was Jeremy able to conceal his amazement. Not only was he being offered an opportunity beyond his wildest dreams, but would be paid more than he could earn as a journeyman gunsmith in many months of dreary, hard labor. "I—I'm overwhelmed, Your Grace," he managed to stammer, and thought he had never spoken truer.
To his further surprise the Duchess nodded, as though she had never doubted her ability to convince him his place was with her party. "I must be honest with you always, Master Bartlett, for that is my code. And I would be less than fair if I did not warn you."
"Warn me, Your Grace?" It was almost impossible to keep pace with this bewildering royal lady.
"Warn you, Master Bartlett. It has come to our ears that you have—shall we say—a never-sated thirst for sack. Remember that we have not—as we might have done—commanded you to drop your affairs here in order to accompany us but have merely requested your presence in our company, much as lesser folk might ask. Let that suffice as proof of Stuart leniency and Stuart consideration for others. Do not give us cause to show you the other side of the coin."