Chapter Twenty-Three
T he dukedom was going to go extinct—or perhaps not extinct, but dead nonetheless. At first, Alexander could feel nothing but shock. What the king was proposing was not an easy accomplishment, even for a sovereign. But high-ranking nobles from both political factions had been painted into Clifville’s gruesome tableaux. They were shaken and angry. Given the Jacobite Rebellion of ’45, the king had no tolerance for individuals involved in conspiracies to seize the throne—even those who were guilty by association. Alexander doubted that either his father or Georgina’s brother had known about Clifville’s wild dream of usurpation, but it didn’t matter.
So, in the end, there had been no legacy to suffer for. Alexander’s clubfoot hadn’t destroyed the house of Falcondale, nor had his aunt’s elopement. His father had accomplished the destruction on his own.
And Alexander? Alexander was finally free.
“If Falcondale and Craie wish to escape the noose, they shall not fight my decision,” King George said. “But enough about them. Let us talk about you.”
Alexander warily studied His Majesty as his stomach sloshed nervously. He had, of course, attended the same functions as the monarch, but he had never before had a true conversation with the sovereign. Although Alexander had become good at deciphering people, the king’s intent remained a mystery.
“You need an award for stopping a political disaster and saving my life. Such heroics normally result in the granting of a peerage, and there will soon be several empty ones along with choice estates. I am prepared to ask Parliament to issue a letter of patent for you to receive the title of the Duke of Falcondale—and all its accompanying courtesy ones—and the lesser title of the Earl of Craie.” The king smirked as he finished speaking, and part of Alexander wondered if the man was vicariously getting revenge against his own sire, who had mistreated him to the point of separating him from not just his mother but his own child. But most of Alexander’s mind was too stunned to consider anything at all.
“You’re making me the duke? In my father’s stead?” Alexander could barely speak the words. He felt curiously numb—or perhaps the opposite. He was experiencing too many feelings to register any of them.
“Not in his stead. The chain of inheritance will be broken. It will be your own peerage, to make what you wish of it.” The king reached over and popped an expensive pastry into his mouth.
His own peerage. Unfettered by the past. Not something to live up to, but something to create, to mold. Alexander wouldn’t have to concern himself with a legacy that he’d never wanted. His focus could be on bettering the lives of those who relied on the estates and creating a place for his own children to thrive, no matter their abilities or their appearance. He could join the House of Lords and begin publicly advocating for social reforms.
“I did have concerns if you were being treated equitably.” The king turned toward Georgina. “After all, you helped expose Clifville, but you were losing your residence. But your upcoming nuptials will fix all that.”
The king waved his hand over the delicacies set out before him. “Now eat. You are both likely famished after the news I’ve imparted.”
Alexander gingerly picked up a marzipan shaped like a swan. His stomach was churning too much to consume sweets, but he wasn’t about to refuse the monarch’s orders. He bit off a wing, chewing slowly. He was to be the duke. The. Duke. Not in some unknown, indefinite future. But soon.
“What will happen to the local people who were involved with the smuggling?” Georgina inquired cautiously as she picked at a seed cake. “They are very impoverished with no other good income. They weren’t a party to Lord Clifville’s deluded fantasies.”
Alexander instantly felt a stab of remorse that he hadn’t thought to ask about the inhabitants of Georgina’s village. If he was to receive Algernon’s estate, he had responsibility to the community as the chief landowner. Although he might be able to plead for leniency for Tom and Jack, it would be harder to protect the others.
“Enough efforts have been expended to discover the noble ringleaders. There is no reason to expend resources to root out petty underlings,” the king said dismissively. Alexander sensed that the king wasn’t being generous. A prolonged investigation might mean that more of the real truth would be revealed.
“When will my parents and Lord and Lady Craie be informed?” Alexander asked.
“Oh, they have already been.” The king plucked a fruit tart from the table and jammed it into his mouth. When he swallowed, he turned back to Georgina. “When things are settled with your marriage, you must visit to view the antiquities that I’ve acquired. I wish to know exactly what my collection is missing.”
After the king bid them adieu, Alexander remained quiet while the servant poled them and Fluffus Legatus across the canal. Even when he and Georgina had secured the rooster in its basket and climbed into the curricle, Alexander still found himself unable to speak.
As the horses plodded down the tree-lined lane, Georgina laid her hand gently on his arm. “Perhaps we should pull off into a less well-used path. We could rest a bit before fighting through London traffic.”
Alexander nodded, picking a dirt road that looked overgrown. They hadn’t gone far when it abruptly ended.
“Let’s just tie up the horses and sit here. That log over there would make a good bench.” Georgina pointed in the direction of a large fallen branch that was perfectly curved to accommodate two people.
As they made their way to the makeshift seat, Georgina took his elbow and rested her head against his upper arm. “That was a whirlwind of rapid changes.”
“Yes.” Alexander nodded as they sat. Georgina stayed tucked next to him, and he relished the close contact. It was anchoring.
“How do you feel about it?” Georgina asked hesitantly.
Alexander sucked in his breath and then let it out in a huffing sort of laugh. “Pleased. Guilty. Excited. Nervous.”
“Same with me,” Georgina admitted.
“I need to start thinking like a duke,” Alexander said as he stared at the dappled pattern made by the sun shining through the gently swaying leaves. “I should have thought to ask the king about the locals in Essex.”
“You would have in due course. You were a bit stunned.” Georgina leaned more heavily against him, clearly lending her support. “The more pressure I am under, the more logical I become. You are apt to sort through your feelings first. It is why we shall make a wonderful team as the Duke and Duchess of Falcondale.”
“You aren’t worried that managing multiple households will distract from your antiquarian work?” Alexander asked. “We can hire good butlers and housekeepers to take the burden off you.”
Georgina lifted her head and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek. “Your consideration is why I’m happy to be your duchess. But you needn’t worry. I am accustomed to juggling multiple endeavors.”
Alexander threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed tightly. The swell of happiness that he’d experienced when she’d agreed to his proposal returned. “I feel like I’m in a rough sea today—sometimes at the top of a wave feeling absolutely glorious and then battling through the swells that I never saw coming.”
Georgina laughed. “That is very apt. But I don’t think we need to fight through the choppiness. Perhaps it is best to simply bob along for the moment and accept that our emotions are a shifting mess. We can feel joy and freedom while also mourning the familial relationships that never became proper ones.”
“How did I get so lucky to have a fiancée as wise as you?” Alexander rested his forehead against Georgina’s, finding comfort in their closeness.
“By being exceedingly sage yourself,” Georgina responded.
“My finely honed intellect is telling me that we should kiss now,” Alexander whispered.
“That is indeed the most sensible course.”
Their lips met, and the rollicking emotions settled inside Alexander. Georgina was his lodestone, guiding him when the world set him adrift. Their lives would have chaotic moments and quiet interludes, but they would face them together with logic and humor—and definitely a lot of passion and love.