One #2
“What we all want—a sound British pound, better drainage in the poorer quarters of London, and for the Duke of Cambridge not to marry the Marquis of Yorkingham’s daughter.
” Fortescue Alcock’s tight-lipped expression made it clear he considered all three of equally vital importance.
“As a Member of Parliament, I’m working diligently on the first two.
Why, I wonder, has there been no progress on the last item? ”
Nathaniel clenched his fists and wondered if Fortescue Alcock had any idea how close he was to being throttled to within an inch of his life. Nate had never bowed to the will of any man. It rankled his soul to give in to this one. “I’ll get to it in due time.”
“That’s just the trouble. Time is of the essence, milord.
The royal duke’s emissary is paying court to Lady Georgette nearly every day.
Once she accepts Cambridge’s suit, there’ll be no recourse.
Trust me, it’s one thing to seduce an unattached virgin.
Quite another to deflower one who’s formally betrothed to a royal duke.
” Alcock sent him a sly sidelong glance.
“Not that it would be impossible for you to achieve, given your past performance, but frankly, I doubt even you’d care to face the consequences of tweaking His Highness’s royal nose in that manner. ”
Alcock was right. Once the lady was betrothed to a member of the royal family, seducing her would rise almost to the level of treason.
Frustration boiled in his gut. “Why did you choose me for this blasted assignment?”
Alcock stared at Anne’s gravestone. “You know the family well. You have a natural point of entry into this situation. Lord Rhys Warrington is making spectacular progress with his prospective duchess, so I can’t rightly reassign him to Lady Georgette, but if you’d prefer this particular lady be plucked by your friend Sir Jonah Sharp, I could—”
“No, I agreed to do it.”
Not that Nathaniel had much choice in the matter. Either he accepted Alcock’s Faustian deal or the bastard would dredge up the whole sordid mess at Maubeuge again.
Nathaniel and his friends, Lord Rhys Warrington and Sir Jonah Sharp, were implicated in the same stunning defeat at Maubeuge that occurred just before the English victory at Waterloo.
There had never been enough evidence of treachery to do more than taint them all with the whiff of scandal.
Now Alcock claimed to have proof that would see Nate brought before the House of Lords in chains for spying for the French and leading his men into a trap.
The scandal would ruin the Colton name and crush any hope of his sister making the brilliant match that was her due.
Since their father, the marquis, had suffered several debilitating losses in the market in recent years, the family was counting on Caroline to raise their power and influence by snagging a wealthy, well-connected husband.
If Nathaniel suffered the disgrace Alcock threatened, Caro would be fortunate to land a position as governess with a family of the middling sort.
All Nate had to do to avoid this calamity was steal Lady Georgette’s chastity, making her ineligible for the Duke of Cambridge’s attention.
It was a tangled web, with more than a few innocent flies about to blunder into Alcock’s sticky labyrinth.
But when was anything political ever less than a spider’s lair of lies, broken promises, and arm-twisting deals?
“Haven’t you anything better to do than decide which virgin needs debauching?” Nate asked between clenched teeth. “You’re no better than a bawd in Covent Garden.”
“How dare you, sir.” Alcock puffed up like an enraged peacock. “I am trying to save the throne. There is no matter more important to the Crown. We absolutely cannot leave King George’s successor up to some mad race by his sons to find a bride.”
Nathaniel ignored Mr. Alcock and stared down at Anne’s headstone. He waited for the familiar hollow ache to begin, but even grief refused to surface. He was a dry husk.
Maybe it was better this way. If his heart shut down completely, it would be easier to do what he must.
“I said I’d do it and I will,” Nathaniel said testily. “Now leave me be.”
“Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.” Alcock turned to go.
“Oh, my sources tell me the lady is paying a visit at a house in Covent Garden this morning. Unsavory place, what? But it seems Lady Georgette is a bit of a crusading prig. Out to save the world. Perhaps you’d do well to track her down before she gets into trouble on her own. ”
Nathaniel grunted, leaving it to Mr. Alcock to decide if the sound constituted agreement. Actually it was simple surprise. The house he’d won from Gobberd that morning was in the same unsavory neighborhood.
Fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor.
He waited till the man’s retreating footsteps vanished completely. Then Nate knelt next to Anne’s grave. He wished he’d thought to bring flowers. She’d always loved them.
For a moment he imagined her as he’d seen her for the last time, arms full of irises to arrange in a crystal vase. Fresh-cheeked, eyes bright, brimming with health and such innocence, Anne was sweet as the armful of blooms she carried.
The memory of his first love caused his chest to constrict painfully.
There it was finally. A genuine feeling. Like the fellow who’d stumbled into White’s that morning, Nathaniel was still alive.
At times, there was reason for doubt.
Merely forcing air in and out of one’s lungs didn’t constitute living.
Even when Nate buried himself in hedonistic pleasures, he rarely felt that rush of guilty exhilaration sinning was supposed to deliver.
A part of him watched from outside his body and wondered if his soul had already died and was merely waiting for the rest of him to cease to function.
Nothing would be gained by further stalling. He stood upright. “I won’t be back for a while, dearest. Maybe never. I doubt you’d want me here in any case,” he told Anne. “You see, I have to seduce your sister.”