Prince of Swords by Stuart Anne

Author:Stuart, Anne [Stuart, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, General, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780821753972
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corporation
Published: 1996-08-27T07:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

There was only a light mist falling that evening, but the wind whipped Jessamine’s hair free from her demure arrangement, flinging it against her face. If she had any sense at all, she would get out of the rain and the wind, back to the relative quiet of her room at Blaine Manor.

But it was an uncharacteristically quiet night at the raucous house party. Several of the more daring couples had gone off to the races and weren’t expected back till late. Still others had opted for a quiet night of whist, while the Earl of Glenshiel was closeted with a vile case of the grippe, according to Freddie Arbuthnot. And Fleur had taken to her bed as well, her eyes huge and red-rimmed in her pale face. Pale, that is, except for the faint rosy rash that blushed her cheeks and chin, a rash that looked like it was caused by a man’s whiskers.

Fleur couldn’t respond to her sister’s questions; she simply turned her face into the pillow and wept, a circumstance that distressed Jessamine tremendously. Fleur was not, by nature, a weeper. She cried over hurt animals and lost children, but the heartfelt depths of her sobs struck an unnamed terror in Jessamine’s heart.

She could only blame Glenshiel. She had no particular cause to do so, but she had rapidly come to the conclusion that the Earl of Glenshiel was the author of all her most recent misfortunes, and if he hadn’t somehow managed to sneak around Jessamine’s careful surveillance and upset her sister, then he doubtless had a hand in it.

Fleur wasn’t telling, and Alistair MacAlpin had retired to his room with a highly suspicious illness. And Jessamine, at loose ends, had every intention of finding out just how sick he actually was.

It had been a simple enough matter to breech the fastness of his room. She had retraced her steps from a few days before, making certain there were no helpful witnesses as she rapped on the door.

There was also no answer to her tentative knock. She rapped louder, then placed her ear against the heavy wood. Not a sound echoed from beyond, and she reached down to open the door, when a loud harrumph made her leap backward with a shriek.

“His lordship is indisposed, miss.”

It was his sepulchral-looking manservant, Malkin, staring down at her with such stark disapproval that Jessamine almost withered. Almost.

“So I gathered,” she said brightly. “I just came by to see how he was. If he needed anything.”

“I will convey your concern, miss,” he intoned. “Be assured I am more than adequate to the task of looking after my master. Rest and quiet are what he needs now. I doubt you’ll see him till midday tomorrow.”

“He’s quite ill, is he?” Jessamine said. “Exactly what are his symptoms? I have some talent with herbs, and I might be able to brew him a tisane that would put him in better heart.”

“He has the bloody flux.”

“How very unpleasant,” she said faintly.

“Quite.”

Neither of them moved, and Jessamine wondered which of them was the more stubborn.

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