“How much will you wager, Richard?”

De Grenville let a slow smile spread over his face. Southwood
had a magnificent stud stallion that de Grenville coveted. “One year’s
time, Geoff. At the end of that time you’ll turn over your stud,
Dragon’s Fire, to me.”

“Six months, Dickon, at which time you’ll turn over to me your
magnificently outfitted river barge.”

De Grenville winced. His barge was the most elegant on the river,
and even the Queen coveted it. Still, he reasoned, the beautiful
Senora Goya del Fuentes was no lightskirt and she had obviously
detested Southwood on sight. It was unlikely that she would suc-
cumb, and besides he wanted that stallion very much.

“Done!” he said decisively. “Your stallion against my barge. The
time period to be six months from this day.” He held out his hand
and Southwood shook it firmly.

“Try not to damage my barge this autumn, Dickon,” Southwood
said mockingly. “Come spring, I shall want to take my new mistress
cruising on the river.”

“I won’t, Geoff. And you see that my stallion is well cared for
and not overbred?”

The two men parted then, each secure in the knowledge that he
would soon possess a coveted new toy.

Geoffrey Southwood did not know what intrigued him the most-
the lovely widow’s beauty, her air of breeding, or her dislike of
him. He would enjoy the challenge of seducing and taming her. And
he would be the envy of London for owning such a fine mistress.
By fair means or foul, Southwood vowed he would have her.

Chapter 14

Skye’s house was located on the Strand on the Green in the
village of Chiswick outside of the city of London. The last
building in the row, it was much less pretentious than its
neighbors. Farther down the line were the palaces of such
great lords as Salisbury and Worcester, and the bishop of Durham.
They had sailed from Plymouth up the coast into the mouth of
the Thames. There the Mermaid had anchored in the Pool awaiting
her chance to dock in London. Skye, Jean Morlaix, and Robert Small
had disembarked and ridden ahead. It would be several weeks before
the Mermaid was assigned a wharf space, and Robert Small trusted
his reliable first mate to oversee the ship in his absence.

Skirting.the main portion of the city, they soon arrived at Chis-
wick. It was a small and charming village with an excellent inn, the
Swan, on the far side of its green. Here they stopped to refresh
themselves with cups of freshly pressed cider, warm newly baked
bread covered with pink ham, and a sharp, pale, golden cheese.

Skye was ravenous and ate eagerly, much to the beaming approval
of the fat innkeeper. He poured her another foaming goblet of cider.

“Be you passing through?” he queried.

Skye sent him a blinding smile that quite stunned him. “No,” she
said, “I own a house here, Master Innkeeper, and I’ve come to live
in it.”

“Which ‘ouse is that, madam? I thought I knew all the great lords
and their families. I grew up here, you see. Ever since there’s been
an inn in Chiswick, there ‘ave been Monypennys in Chiswick. In
fact,” and here he chuckled, his fat belly heaving with mirth, “no
one ‘as ever been quite sure which came first, the Swan or the
Monypennys! Aha! Ha! Ha!”

Jean and Captain Small looked askance but Skye giggled, thus
increasing the innkeeper’s approval of her. “I am Senora Goya del
Fuentes, Master Monypenny. The house I own is ‘Greenwood,’ the
last one on the Strand. It belonged to my late husband.”

“You’re Spanish?” his voice was now edged in disapproval.

“My husband was. I am Irish.”

“Almost as bad,” came the reply.

“Mon Dieuf Quel cochon!” muttered Jean.

“Master Monypenny! I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in
your head. Senora Goya del Fuentes is a good and gentle lady, and
not to be abused while under my protection.” Robert Small’s hand
was on his sword.

The big innkeeper looked down at the little sea captain. “Lord
bless me!” he began to chuckle. “She must be a fine lady that the
ant would challenge the sparrow! My apologies, ma’am. It’s just
that the memory of Bloody Mary and her Spanish husband dies
hard.”

“Bloody Mary?”

“The late Queen. Her that was married to Philip of Spain. Young
Queen Bess’s half-sister.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Master Monypenny. Now I understand,”
said Skye. She had heard the story of the sad daughter of Catherine
of Aragon from Dame Cecily. “Well, I promise you I am nothing
like Bloody Mary. My daughter and I have no family left anywhere
that we know of, and so we have come to England to make a new
life. English hospitality is famous worldwide.”

The innkeeper ruffled with pride. “And so it should be, ma’am.
So it should be. You’ll be quite happy here upon the Strand. Now,
if I may involve myself in your business for a moment… You say
your house is the last one in the row. Tsk! The last tenants left it
in shameful condition, and if you’ll allow me, ma’am, I’ll have rooms for you and your party set aside. The plain fact is that your
house is not habitable.”

“Robbie! Was the agent not notified to prepare the house for me?”

“He was, Skye.”

The innkeeper shook his head dolefully. “That would be Mr.
Taylor, wouldn’t it? He’s a bad ‘un, but how were you to know
that?”

“Bad? In what way, Master Monypenny?” asked Robert Small.

“He’s been renting the house out to youngbloods for their-oh,
dalliances, you might say. Charges ‘em twice what you asks for the
house, pockets the overage, and then collects his commission too.”

“And how do you know that?”

“He’s in the habit of taking a drink here now and then. But he
can’t hold his liquor. More than two pints and he begins to talk.
One night during the late Queen’s reign he bragged about how he
was cheating the Spaniard who owned the house.”

“We had best go and check the house, Robbie.” The sea captain
nodded. “I should be grateful, Master Monypenny, if you would set
aside rooms for us, as well as a private dining room. I shall require
a bath upon our return.”

“At once, ma’am!”

Remounting their horses, they rode across the green and down
Riversedge Street. Skye was impressed by the great houses that lined
the waterside. As they neared the end of the street the buildings
became less grand, however, the last three being an elegant mansion,
a small palace, and finally a charming house of mellowed pink brick.
It was set within a private green park. The gates showed rust, and
hung loosely open. Robert Small pursed his lips. Pushing open the
gates, he led the way into the grounds.

The park was overgrown and unkempt, the woodland filled with
brambles, the lawns waist-high in weeds. When they reached the
house they found several windows broken and the front door hanging
open on broken hinges.

“Master Taylor is going to have a lot to answer for,” growled
Robbie. “Where the hell is the gatekeeper? He should be guarding
the premises. Jean, didn’t you pay wages last year for a year’s
gatekeeping service?”

“Oui, Captain, I did, but the monies were forwarded to Master
Taylor, the agent.”

“It’s neither here nor there now,” said Skye. “The damage is
done. Let us see if the inside has fared as badly.”

The three entered the house and gasped with shock as they moved
from room to room on the main floor. Then Robert Small ran quickly upstairs inspecting the second and third floors. His face was a thun-
dercloud when he descended again.

“Stripped!” he roared. “There isn’t a stick of furniture in the
entire house! Nor draperies, rugs, linens, or plate! You’ve been
robbed! The dirty bastard has taken everything!”

“Master Monypenny knew whereof he spoke,” observed Skye
drily. “I won’t be played for a fool, Robbie. Master Taylor must be
caught and prosecuted. I imagine, however, that the furnishings are
long gone. You were in the house several times, Robbie. Do you
recall seeing anything of great value?”

“Just the usual household furnishings.”

‘Then they’re easily replaced. Thank heavens, Marie and the
children remained in Devon. Come, Jean, Robbie. Back to the Swan.
I am tired and want a bath, and nothing can be done here until
tomorrow.”

On the following morning Skye rode into the city of London. She
visited the cabinetmaker, the draper, the silversmith, the brass and
iron mongers. At each stop she said the same thing. “Deliver my
order within the week, and I’ll pay you a handsome bonus.” Then
she paid in full for the work contracted or items chosen.

At the Swan she interviewed applicants for her household staff
and with Master Monypenny’s aid, employed a Mistress Burnside
as her housekeeper, half a dozen housemaids and footmen, a Master
Walters for her majordomo, and his wife for her cook. There were
four kitchen girls hired, as well as a pot boy. Mistress Burnside had
a widowed sister who, with her two plain daughters, would be the
household laundresses. The out-of-house staff consisted of a head
gardener and head groom, each who had two assistants, and a gate-
keeper. Skye would soon need a nursery staff to look after Willow,
and this would consist of a laundress, a nursemaid, and one assistant.
Compared to the great houses on the Strand, hers would be a very
modest household.

Skye had inspected her house thoroughly by her second day in
London. Below the main level of the house was a large kitchen that
opened out into a small vegetable patch and herb garden. There were
two fireplaces in the kitchen, both with brick ovens. One would take
a whole side of beef. The other, smaller one, was well suited to pots
and bread-baking. Off to one side of the kitchen was a cool, stone
buttery, and off to the other was a scullery. There was a long servants’
hall with a fireplace and quarters for some of the servants.

The housekeeper had a private bedchamber, as did the majordomo
and his wife, the cook. The four kitchen maids shared a room, and
the laundress and her two daughters shared one. A small alcove set
into the chimney wall was padded with a plump pallet and assigned to the little pot boy who was considered too young to be housed
with the other male servants. The six housemaids would sleep in
attic rooms set aside for them. The six footmen, three grooms, and
two undergardeners were housed in the stable loft. The head garden-
er and his wife would live in a tiny cottage hidden in the little garden
and the gatekeeper and his wife in the little gatehouse. Jean and
Marie were given an apartment of their own in one wing of the
house. Marie would continue in her duties as Skye’s chief tiring
woman while the nursery staff watched over both Willow and Henri.
The nursery staff would, of course, sleep in the nursery.