Darling Jasmine. Bertrice Small

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СКАЧАТЬ years with our bankers, the Kira family. I do not know if your grandmother would consider it, but a merger of my interests with the O’Malley-Small trading company could profit us as all. That is something she and I must discuss.”

      Jasmine nodded. “It seems a sensible solution to all our domiciles, but I hope we shall not have to stay too long at court.”

      “Only to the extent it benefit us,” he responded sagely. “We have the children to consider. Charlie is a duke, and Henry a marquis. Their sisters are heiresses, and will be prime on the marriage market one day.” He reached out and took her hand in his, lifting it to kiss the inside of her wrist and her palm. “And we have our bairns to consider as well, darling Jasmine. Perhaps another earl, and a brother and sister or two?” He nibbled on her fingers seductively.

      Jasmine colored becomingly. Of course there had to be children of this marriage, but until this moment she hadn’t really thought a great deal about it. How long had it been since she had made love to a man? Her youngest child was two and a half years of age, and it had been several months before his birth when she and Henry Stuart had ceased their intimacies. It was almost three years, she realized, amazed. She had grown used to life without a man. Without a man in her bed. Did she even remember how to play that game? The fire in the fireplace crackled and snapped, the flames dappling the walls with shadow, while outside the rain beat a light tattoo upon the windowpanes.

      James Leslie saw the confusion passing over her features and realized the opportunity presenting itself to him. To his surprise, however, Jasmine pulled her hand away from him, distress written all over her beautiful face. Shaking her head at him, she ran from the hall. So, he thought, she had felt it too. She wasn’t being coy, he realized, for Jasmine Lindley was a woman of experience; yet she felt a certain shyness with him that was astonishing given the passionate lover he recalled on that one wonderful night that they had shared those several years back.

      He wondered if he should follow her and thought better of the idea. He considered if she had taken a lover while here in France and discarded the notion. The only lover Jasmine Lindley had ever allowed in her bed other than himself, and her husbands, had been Prince Henry Stuart. Then in a burst of clarity he saw the problem. Of course! It had to be! There had been no man in her bed since the prince. He laughed softly to himself. Jasmine, who disliked being at any sort of disadvantage, felt awkward about making love again. He was tempted to go to her and reassure her, but he knew that would be a mistake. He would have to court Jasmine as he had never courted any woman. He had not really courted Isabelle, for they had been promised in childhood, and it was a given that they would marry. It had not been necessary to court his late wife, and there had been none since her death he chose to court and marry.

      It was an interesting concept, courting a woman, but court her he would have to in order to gain her trust and win his way into her bed, into her heart. What could he do that would please her? She lacked for nothing. James Leslie realized that he had absolutely no idea about how to court a woman who had everything. Had she been a simple lass, he would have wooed her with jewelry and other finery. She knew he liked her children, so there was no ingress there. What was he to do? And then he realized that he would have to seek advice from Madame Skye. He laughed aloud at the thought. Take advice from that beautiful and devious old woman? Aye! He would, for she knew Jasmine best, and was, if her reputation was to be believed, the most skilled and clever woman where the arts of love were concerned.

      James Leslie poured himself another large goblet of red wine and settled himself by the fireplace, sipping the liquid nectar slowly. Tomorrow they would go to Archambault, and he knew that Jasmine would devote her time there to her children. He, however, would seek counsel from Madame Skye on how to win her granddaughter, and win Jasmine he would.

      In the morning she behaved as if everything was exactly the same between them as it had been the day before. She came to the highboard dressed for riding, in green wool breeches, high leather boots, a cambric shirt, and her doeskin jerkin with the silver-and-horn buttons. She ate heartily, which both amused and delighted him. He liked a woman who enjoyed her food and did not toy daintily with her plate. His mother was such a woman. Jasmine never drank wine in the early morning. Her servants brought her a blue-and-white porcelain dish, pouring into it a fragrant hot liquid which she always drank with relish.

      Curious, he asked her, “What is it you drink, Jasmine?”

      “It is called tea,” she told him. “Would you like to taste it, Jemmie? Adali, bring another saucer for the earl.” She smiled at him. “We brew it with hot water, using the leaves of the tea plant. It is native to India. The leaves are cured or dried before use. It is a very pleasing drink. My mother and my aunts frequently put cloves or cardamom in the tea to add additional flavor to it.”

      Jasmine’s steward placed a deep saucer before him and poured some of the tea into it from a pitcher. “This is black tea, my lord,” he said. “The Chinese grow a green variety.”

      “It is more delicate,” Jasmine said. “Our Indian tea is a most hearty brew. Taste it, Jemmie!”

      He sipped at the hot liquid, finding the taste pleasant, but not particularly stimulating or exciting as wine, ale, or cider.

      “I am thinking of suggesting to grandmother that we import tea into England,” Jasmine told him. “The Dutch have been doing it for the past six years although they do not know how to market it and have not had a great success with it.”

      “The Dutch are excellent merchants,” he replied.

      “Indeed they are,” she agreed, “but they still do not know how to sell tea. Tea is not spices or cloth that can be easily hawked to any housewife in the market. Tea must first be sold to the rich and the powerful. Only when they have taken it to their bosoms and made it a drink of the exclusive will the masses seek to have it.”

      Her analysis of the situation surprised him. He had always known that Jasmine was an intelligent woman, but he had put that particular brand of intelligence down to female common sense, but she was beyond that obviously. “You may be right, Jasmine,” he said slowly. “Aye, I can see where having tea drunk by a select few would eventually make it modish, and very desirable to the general population.”

      She arose from the highboard. “We’ll talk to Grandmama about it,” she said. “Come, Jemmie, and let us be off. I have not seen my darlings in almost two weeks, and I am eager to be with them!”

      They took the direct road to Archambault, arriving quickly, and Jasmine was out of her saddle almost immediately, sweeping her children, who were awaiting her upon the steps of the great château, into her all-encompassing embrace. On the top step Madame Skye stood with a distinguished gentleman the earl rightly guessed to be the comte de Cher. Alexandre de Saville shook James Leslie’s hand and bade him welcome. The earl then kissed Madame Skye upon her pale cheeks.

      “So, James Leslie,” the old lady said, tucking her hand into his arm as they entered the château, “have you made any progress with my granddaughter?”

      “We will wed on the fifteenth day of June,” he replied.

      “Ah, good! I am glad you have managed to bring Jasmine around to a more sensible frame of mind in this matter,” Skye replied.

      They entered an elegant salon, and he saw at once that they were alone.

      “I need your advice, madame,” the earl said, “and as we have privacy for the moment, perhaps it is the time to seek it.”

      She raised an elegant eyebrow. “You seek my advice? How interesting,” Skye said, a small smile playing with the corners of her mouth. “Then, sirrah, you have decided СКАЧАТЬ