idly. He fully approved her insistence on keeping her wealth in her own hands. She was an excellent manager, far better than most men he knew. Then madam,' he said, 'our business is now concluded. I shall look forward to seeing you at court.'
She showed him to the apartments where he would spend the night, and then quickly hurried to her own rooms. She could not believe what had just happened. She had vowed never to marry again, and now here she was about to be betrothed to a foreign duke and sent from England and Ireland. This man wanted children, and she was certainly a proven breeder. She shuddered. How could she allow a man she did not know to touch her? To make love to her? The mere thought of it was repellent to her nature. Lord Burghley had said that the duc was not in good health. Perhaps by the time she got there the duc's health would have deteriorated to a point where he could not fulfill his marital duties. One could hope.
Dame Cecily hurried through the door demanding, 'Well? Will Cecil support you and arrange for you to go to court to see the Queen?'
'Aye,' Skye replied, 'but the price is steep. I am to leave here, and journey to a small independent dukedom between Provence and the Languedoc where I will wed with its ruler.'
'But he has, and I must comply with his request, as he knew I must when he suggested it. The duchy has offered England a base on the Mediterranean as well as a listening post into France and, I suspect, the kingdoms of Italy, although Lord Burghley did not say so. The duc is supposed to be in failing health, and Cecil says I shall probably be home in two years or less.'
'And afterward will they use the Burke children again in order to gain your aid?' Dame Cecily demanded, outraged. 'God's foot! Has Cecil then turned pimp for the Crown?'
'I don't know,' Skye said wearily. 'I can only hope that Lord Burghley will accept this sacrifice I make as payment in full.'
'I ought to give William Cecil a good piece of my mind!' Dame Cecily huffed furiously. 'I cannot imagine what he is thinking of to separate you from your children!'
Skye had to laugh. Dearest, dearest Dame Cecily. From the moment Skye had arrived in England several years ago, Robert Small's plump, widowed sister had taken her under her wing; had been a second mother to her; had loved her, and Willow, and all of Skye's children. She was a grandmother to Willow and Robin, but most of all she was a good and loyal friend. 'Do not trouble yourself with Lord Burghley,' Skye gently admonished the older woman. 'It will change nothing. I will not, however, leave England until I have seen Robbie.'
'And your Burke children, Skye?'
'If I go back to Ireland now to bid them a farewell I shall not be able to leave them, and I cannot take them with me. It is a long and dangerous trip I make. I do not know anything about this man whom I must marry. Besides, Deirdre and Padraic are both babies. They will not miss me as long as Uncle Seamus sees that they are loved and well cared for. And perhaps if this marriage works out I shall be able to send for them. I must ask you to care for Willow. The O’Flaherty boys are both safe where they are now.' A small sob escaped her as she thought of Niall's children, so young and so helpless. How long would it be before she saw them again? Padraic would not even know her. He was just over two months old now. Deirdre, however, was almost sixteen months old. Would she remember her mother? Skye doubted it, and the tears flowed.
Lord Burghley and his party departed Lynmouth the following morning, and for the next few days Skye went about the business of writing her uncle, her stepmother, and the others necessary to the smooth running of her world, of her plans to travel to Beaumont de Jaspre. These letters went off to their destinations by the fastest of the Lynmouth horses, for Skye wanted to hear from her family prior to her departure. She had decided to travel upon an O'Malley ship, and asked that her flagship,
Just prior to her departure for London Skye received a long letter from her sister, Eibhlin, who wrote of her visit to St. Mary's and of what she had learned regarding the tragic death of Niall Burke.
Skye crushed between her two hands the parchment upon which her sister's letter was written.
Skye had decided to take Willow to London with her in order to have more time with her eldest daughter, and so Willow might see her beloved half-brother, Robin. She had carefully explained her difficult situation to her daughter, and Willow had understood. She was very much her mother's daughter with regard to finances, and knew that without property and gold a person was helpless; even with them, as her mother was, one was helpless to supreme authority.
'Can I not come with you, Mama?' was her only question.
'Not until I know if this marriage is to work out, my love,' Skye said. 'I do not even know the duc by reputation, Willow. He may turn out to be a fine gentleman whom I may learn to care for, and who will be good to my children; but he also might turn out to be not quite as nice, in which case I would prefer that my children are safe in England and Ireland. Do you understand?'
'I think so,' Willow said quietly. 'If he is not a nice man, and I were with you, he might use threats against me to make you do things you would not do otherwise, like Lord Burghley.'
'God bless me!' Dame Cecily cried. 'She is but nine, and already understands the way of the world!'
'Better she does,' Skye said, 'and then she will not be disillusioned. You are correct, my love.'
'Then it is better I remain here with Dame Cecily,' Willow said calmly.
'Much better,' her mother agreed. 'At least for the present.'
Chapter 2
Exactly one week after William Cecil had departed Lynmouth Castle for London, the Countess of Lynmouth followed after him. The great traveling coach with the Southwood family crest emblazoned upon its sides lumbered along the muddy spring roads toward the capital. Inside, however, Skye, Dame Cecily, Willow, and Daisy were quite comfortable. The vehicle itself was well sprung; the red velvet upholstery hid suitably full horsehair and wool padding, which made for comfortable seats; and tucked at their feet were hot bricks wrapped in flannel, which, along with the coach's red fox lap robes, made for luxurious warmth. Skye absently rubbed the soft fur, remembering other and happier times when it had covered her and Geoffrey.
The coachman and his assistant sat upon the box, controlling the four strong horses that pulled the vehicle. Six armed outriders preceded the coach, and six rode behind them. The horses were changed regularly, allowing them to keep up a fairly even rate of speed, and a rider had gone on ahead of them to arrange for overnight and midday accommodations in the best inns.
They arrived in London some four days later and, passing through the bustling city, entered the tiny, quiet village of Chiswick where Skye's house was located upon the Strand on the Green, which bordered the River Thames. It was the last house in a prestigious row that included the great homes of Salisbury, Worcester, and the Bishop of Durham. Next to Skye's home, Greenwood, stood Lynmouth House, which now belonged to her little son, Robin.
Greenwood, a three-storied house of mellow pink brick, stood within its own private grounds. As Skye's coach
