Chapter 13 #3
“Tiverton, let me hazard a guess as to why you are here. You sought out a license from the Archbishop for your ward to marry someone and were denied your application.” The prince’s voice held a note of disapproval, and Darius could not understand why.
Darius reigned in his temper. The last thing he wanted was to infuriate the future King of England. “That is correct.”
Prince George nodded to himself. “Tea, gentlemen?” He waved for the footman to pour tea.
“No, thank you, Your Royal Highness.” Darius waved off the offer of tea. “I’ve come to seek your approval. The Archbishop said he was under strict orders to reject any application for Miss Montague without your express permission, and he did not explain why.”
“Nor would he, since I didn’t provide him with an explanation. Who is the gentleman she will be marrying?” The prince sipped his tea with an amused light in his eyes. “Rumor has it there is quite a line of interested men. Some say Mr. Evers is the current contender for the young lady’s heart.”
Darius was not at all surprised by this knowledge of Meredith’s marriage prospects. Ever since the prince had sent Meredith that letter following their meeting, Darius knew he’d taken an interest in her future.
“It is…” Darius straightened his shoulders, preparing for the prince’s judgment. “Me, Sir. The license is for me.”
“You?” George’s brows rose. “Come now, Tiverton, do not jest with me.”
“I am not, Sir.”
“But you’ve never shown an interest in marriage before.
Most of the eligible ladies have given up hope of catching you.
You can’t expect me to believe that a woman with Miss Montague’s scandalous history is suitable to be the future Duchess of Tiverton.
No, I simply do not believe it.” The prince’s tone was almost dismissive.
“Timmons, poor the tea, please. Mr. Burville, would you like some tea?”
“Yes, thank you, Your Royal Highness,” Warren replied as the Prince waved them over to sit down.
Darius refused to sit and began to pace around the room. Warren and the Prince George drank their tea and watched Darius prowl about.
“Well, are you going to tell me the truth of this matter?” George finally asked Darius. “And please stop that pacing. I find it distressing.”
Darius halted near the chairs and waited for his stomach to stop twisting itself in knots. There was no other way around it. He would have to be honest with the prince.
“The truth is, I have a duty to marry Miss Montague.”
“Oh dear, duty is it?” The prince attempted and failed to hide a little smile behind his teacup and Warren outright grinned.
“Oh yes,” Warren interrupted. “As you must be aware, Sir, Tiverton’s very soul is comprised of duty.”
“Indeed, I do,” George replied. “And that is why I’m not going to allow his marriage license to be approved.”
“What?” Darius sputtered.
Prince George frowned at him, causing Darius to mutter a mortified apology.
“Please, Sir. It is of the utmost importance that I marry Miss Montague at once.”
“What could be so important to drive you to the altar, Tiverton?” The prince’s voice dropped slightly as he arched a brow, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Are you madly in love with the young lady?”
He was in lust, certainly, and obviously he cared for her. He even suspected he was falling in love with her, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the prince.
“I find her company to be pleasing and I believe we shall do well together.”
There was a heavy silence and Darius realized he’d made some terrible error in his choice of words, only what it was he hadn’t the foggiest.
George set his cup down on its saucer with a sharp clatter. “Then I’m afraid the answer is still no, Tiverton.”
Warren choked on his tea.
“But Sir, I—” It would only make matters worse if he admitted what he had done last night, but there seemed to be no other way forward. “Sir, the lady has been compromised,” Darius said, his tone quiet, his cheeks on fire.
“By whom?” The prince asked.
He felt like a schoolboy called upon the carpets by his governess for spilling the pot on his father’s favorite white rug. That had been an awful day, and it felt just the same as now…only far more than his father’s disappointment was at stake.
“By me.”
“I see.” George leaned back in his chair. “And have you received Miss Montague’s acceptance? We both agree that her feelings on the matter must be acknowledged and respected.”
“She will agree.”
“You mean you haven’t asked her?” the prince snorted. “A lady must be asked, Tiverton.”
“I…er…informed her that we were to be wed… this morning.”
At Darius’s reluctant admission, the prince rolled his eyes, and Warren shook his head in disappointment.
“Informed? My dear Tiverton, what on earth is to be done with you? Someone cannot be commanded into marriage, even if they are compromised. Will she be ruined? Yes, most certainly, but a man cannot force a woman into marriage. A woman must be wooed into it.”
“Sir, if I may interject,” said Warren. “Tiverton has never had the necessity to woo a young lady. They tend to fall into his arms at the slightest provocation. Perhaps you could offer him a few suggestions as to how he should go about wooing?”
Darius shot his friend a quelling look.
The prince puffed up with pride at being asked for such advice.
“Isn’t it obvious? Flowers, sweets, hand-holding, walks in the garden.
Recite some poetry, for God’s sake, Tiverton.
Woo her, and when she has informed me herself that she has accepted you, I shall tell the Archbishop you have my permission to receive a marriage license. ”
“But Sir—”
“Do not argue with me,” he said flatly, his tone clearly ending the argument. “Now sit down, have a cup of tea and collect your wits, Tiverton. You will need them, it would seem.”
Darius slumped into a chair and woodenly accepted a cup from the footman.
Warren began an animated discussion with the prince on the latest fashions from the continent, and the prince was more than happy to provide his opinion on the newest ways to tie cravat, as well as patterns and cuts for trousers.
Darius listened to none of this. His frown deepened on his face as he tried to figure out how he was going to marry Meredith without going against the Crown.
He took another sip of tea, not tasting it at all, and continued to worry over his situation. Meredith would have to be tricked or cajoled into accepting his proposal, that was the simplest solution.
Woo her? Flowers? Sweets? Poetry? The very idea was ridiculous to him.
It was performative art, and to him that felt akin to falsehood.
The truth was that marriage was the logical thing to do, and one did not approach a truth with lies.
Even if he did give into his more romantic tendencies and try to woo her, would she even believe he truly wanted her and cared about her, especially after he had commanded her earlier?
When their audience with the prince concluded, they left Carlton House and returned to their coach, pressing past the gathered onlookers once more.
Darius glared at his friend as he opened the coach door. “Do not say a word.”
Warren grinned like a jackal as he settled into the seat opposite Darius. “Wasn’t going to, old boy.”
Warren was right. He didn’t know how to woo. But he did know how to seduce and perhaps that was a place to start. Seduction, at least, was honest about its intentions.
With a renewed sense of determination, Darius stared out the coach window, planning how best to seduce his ward. Because he was going to marry her, even if he had to defy the monarchy to do it.