Chapter 33 #2
He might as well have commented on the weather, for all the difference it made to the prime minister’s expression. “Lady Frederica told us you might be willing to do so under the right terms.”
Roderick shook his head. “Against my better judgment, I agreed to Lady Frederica’s pleas to hear your arguments. My first duty is to my own people, though. It is unlikely you can tempt me.”
Lord Liverpool folded his hands and smiled condescendingly. “In return for your assistance, we are willing to grant the historic kingdom of Gwynedd the ability to rule itself, within the laws of Great Britain, and to remit half of its excise taxes for ten years.”
What? That was not what they had agreed to! Frederica glared at him.
“This is a waste of my time.” Roderick’s voice dripped scorn. “Good day, gentlemen.” He turned on his heel and headed away, and Frederica could not blame him. But good God, he had turned his back on the king!
“Wait!” cried the king. “Stop this nonsense. Give this gentleman our true offer, Liverpool.”
Roderick turned back but kept his distance, his arms crossed. “I have no interest in playing games. I am here solely as a favor to a fellow dragon companion.”
The Prime Minister sighed. “Very well. We are willing to surrender our claim to the historic kingdom of Gwynedd and allow it to become an independent principality, separate from the United Kingdom and no longer subject to our laws.”
Roderick’s hand twitched. Good; he was surprised. But he handled it well. “Is that all?” he asked with a scornful laugh. “I could have taken that any time by using my King’s Bond to expel all the Englishmen.”
The Prime Minister was every inch the suave politician. “I wonder why you have not done so.”
“Why, because of my family’s alliance with the dragons of Wales, which goes back a thousand years. I chose to honor their wish to stay hidden, and that meant I could not draw attention to our province. It will be different soon, once the Great Concealment comes to an end.”
The minister from the War Office was looking nervous now. Good.
The king leaned forward. “What is it you want, then?”
Roderick narrowed his eyes, as if considering the question. “All of Wales. Everything west of Offa’s Dyke.”
Lord Liverpool shook his head. “We cannot do that, not without risking a war with Scotland.”
“That, sir, is not my problem.” Good heavens, Roderick was good at this! “I will not abandon my countrymen.”
Lord Liverpool grimaced. “We will reduce the excise taxes in Wales by half for twenty years.”
Frederica raised her eyebrows. That was a generous offer.
“Stop them completely for thirty years, and then keep them at half for another fifty,” Roderick retorted. “All English troops to be removed from Wales.”
“Impossible!” cried the War Office minister. “We must maintain a defense on the Irish Sea!”
Roderick tapped his foot slowly, one time, twice, thrice.
“An agreement might be made for specific strategic garrisons on the coast, in exchange for recompense to the local people.” He sounded dubious.
“If I can convince my father, and that is a very big if. Especially when the French Emperor has offered to give us all of Wales if we stay out of your war.”
That was pure bluff. Or was it? Roderick did not tell her everything.
Sweat broke out on Lord Liverpool’s brow, but he said smoothly, “Napoleon is generous with things that do not belong to him. If you think it would mean true independence, I suggest you look towards what has happened in Europe. You would be a client-prince, no more.”
Roderick shrugged. “It is better than anything England has ever offered us.”
The king interrupted. “Before, perhaps. Now we are offering you true independence for Gwynedd.”
With a nod of acknowledgment, as if between equals, Roderick said, “It is an important difference, which is why I am even considering your offer.”
Lord Liverpool opened his mouth, but the king waved his hand to silence him and spoke in his place.
“Let us discuss details, then. There is also one further matter. If you agree, we wish to demonstrate to the world that this is an alliance between Great Britain and the new principality of Gwynedd. As proof, we would ask you to embody this in the traditional manner by marrying an Englishwoman, one of rank.”
Good heavens, was Roderick curling his lip at that prospect? Frederica truly had underestimated him.
He said, “It is my duty to marry a Welshwoman. What would I receive in exchange for this sacrifice?”
It stung, because she knew it was true. Even if he loved her, he believed he should marry a local woman. No matter how wealthy and well-bred she might be, she was lacking that essential credential. But she would not let it stop her – or allow her reaction to show.
The king said, “Lady Frederica’s name has been mentioned, and I would agree to pay you a royal dowry of fifty thousand pounds on top of her own portion.”
Roderick appeared to consider this. “I could do worse. My dragon would be willing to accept her.” A good reminder of the power behind him, as if anyone could forget the currant-red creature looming over them.
“If I must,” Frederica said. “At least you are better than that horrid Mortimer Percy.” Was this truly going to work, this massive play-acting they were doing?
Lord Liverpool said, “All of this would, of course, be contingent upon a demonstration that Mr. Jack Darcy can in fact employ the King’s Bond.”
“Naturally,” Roderick said. “I will need to see all the details in writing first, so that I may present it for approval to my father.” In a low voice, that only Frederica could hear, he added, “Prince Rhodri ap Llewelyn of Gwynedd.”
“There is no time to send messengers all the way to Wales. Mr. Jack Darcy must begin his training at once.”
Roderick’s smile showed teeth. “If you wish me to act without the consent of my father, be prepared to make an even better offer.”
Frederica smirked as Roderick removed his topcoat and tossed it over the bedrail in their room in the modest London inn.
She had debated trying to get a tailor to make him a more fashionable one for the occasion, but it would have taken too long, and it was better that the Prime Minister underestimate Roderick.
If he had looked like a true threat, they would never have agreed to give him as much as they did.
And Roderick always looked particularly appealing in his shirtsleeves.
“Well, future Prince of Gwynedd? What do you think of the deal I negotiated for you?” she asked, feeling distinctly proud of herself.
He tugged her into his arms and nuzzled his face into her neck, making her insides melt. “I think I am out of my right mind,” he murmured. “I should never have agreed, were it not the only way you would be allowed to marry me.”
She pulled back. “What do you mean? Now your beloved Gwynedd will be free!”
“If they do not cheat us out of it - and I guarantee you they will try. And only if they manage to defeat Napoleon, for he will never honor this agreement, and in fact I likely could have made a better arrangement with him. But there was one thing he could not give me.” He grazed his lips over her forehead.
“You. Being able to marry you is what makes this worth it to me.”
Why did she keep forgetting that he did not care if England was conquered? He only wanted to stop Napoleon for the sake of the dragons; otherwise one foreign overlord was the same as any other to him. “The dragons would not like you dealing with Napoleon,” she pointed out.
“True.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “I wish you were not Jack's cousin, though. I would rather our children not be tied to the holder of the English King's Bond.”
She tilted her head to give him better access to the sensitive skin there, tendrils of desire racing from his touch. “Only you could complain about getting everything you wished for - your independence, reduced taxes for Wales for a generation, fifty thousand pounds, and me!”
He stilled and was silent for a moment. “I suppose you are right. I simply cannot believe anything so good can be true. They cannot have meant it.”
“They are desperate.”
“True. Still, I will have to find a solicitor to go over whatever agreement they offer, to make sure they do not leave a way to weasel out of it. Though how I will pay for that I do not know.”
“I will foot the bill,” Frederica said firmly. “You need the finest solicitors on this.”
“It is my responsibility. I will not accept money from you!”
She tossed her head. “I have a fancy to be a princess, and if a good solicitor is what that takes, then I will pay for it. If it makes you feel better, you can reimburse me out of that lovely royal dowry once we are wed. All my money will be yours then, anyway.”
A disbelieving smile crossed his face. “That is the part that I find hardest to truly believe. That you will be my wife. I have been so certain it was impossible, so careful to brace myself for losing you, to hear the news someday that you were marrying someone else.”
She bumped her fist lightly against his cheek in a mock punch. “Foolish man! I had no intention of giving you up. If I could not marry you, I would not marry.”
His eyes widened, as if he could not believe her. “I should not be so glad to hear it, but I am.” Then an unexpected weight entered his voice. “I hope you will not regret it.”
She stared at him. “Why? Do you think I do not know my own heart?”
He stopped tracing his lips along her skin and instead laced his fingers with hers.
“I think it is easy for you to love me at Pemberley, in a beautiful house, with the way of life you are accustomed to.
Will you still be glad when you are sharing a smaller, humbler dwelling with my parents, my brothers and sisters?
Where you will be expected to know all the servants' names and who their families are? Will you resent me when you have to dirty your hands during the spring cleaning, because everyone pitches in?” He shook his head.
“I should have warned you more about how different life is there before you agreed to this.”
Quickly she knelt beside him. “Good heavens, Roderick, did it ever occur to you to ask me how I would feel about living that way? I am not a spoilt child who pouts at the first hint of adversity.”
“You do not understand,” he insisted. “My family can speak English when they choose, but most of the local people do not. And they will not be predisposed to like you.”
“Then I suppose I shall have to learn Welsh. It sounds pretty, when you speak it to your horse.”
He huffed in frustration. “There are no fashionable stores or milliners, only village shops, and few of those. Nothing you would recognize as a town short of Caernarfon, and even that is provincial by English standards.”
“Did you see me complaining about the lack of fancy shops in Derbyshire? I assume that, like most ladies who live far from cities, I will make occasional journeys to buy what I need.”
“This is different. And much farther away. Welsh roads are not up to your usual standards.”
He was not listening to her.
Which was odd, because one of the things she loved about him was how well he attended to what everyone said. Was he so worried about how she would judge his home, then? Or was he afraid she would reject him?
Had anyone ever cared for her enough to fear losing her?
She gathered his hands in her own. “Roderick, my love, has it never occurred to you that I have not been particularly happy in my very luxurious life? That I hate pretense and like being useful? That I am accustomed to people disliking me for something that is not my own fault? There are no guarantees in life, but perhaps I will end up liking your valley very much.”
“And if not?” His eyes were wide.
“If not, we will find a way to make it work. I am certain something there will appeal to me,” she said firmly. “Now, teach me to say something in Welsh. I must start somewhere.”
A slow smile bloomed on his face, and he said something that sounded like “Ruin duh garry dee.”
She concentrated on the words and repeated it back to him. “Ruin duh garry dee. What does it mean?”
He leaned forward and caught her lips with his own, deepening the kiss until threads of desire caught her in their nest and left her breathless. Then he whispered, “It means 'I love you.'”