Catherine leaned toward her son. “Then get on with it.”
“With what?”
“Marriage. Just make sure she doesn’t have any Holland-sized secrets. Her father’s not in the House of Lords since he’s sadly deceased. So there’d be no tomfoolery there.”
“You want me to marry her?” John was on his feet, pacing.
“With MP Fickle on the loose, we need your position as our next king tied with a neat, pretty bow.”
“I have other plans. Beginning with you changing the writ. You promised me you would if I went to meet Scottie.”
“As I recall, I said I’d look into it. I did take a meeting with Elias and we believe, considering your current widower status and the trouble Fickle is stirring, the writ must remain intact.”
“No, the writ must change. Then I will take my oath and the crown will be secure.”
“But if you don’t marry—”
“Gus’s child will be my heir. Mum, what’s going on?”
She sighed, her expression sober. “I fear if I change the writ you will not marry. That a change now from the crown while people are being stirred to think it’s time for something new, something different, will make it appear as if we are weakening. Fickle will take a well-aimed shot at our bow.” She shoved to her feet with a remarkable strength. “The damage could be irreparable.”
“Has your illness gone to your head, Mum?” He dropped all the formality of a royal audience. “Irreparable? Because you changed a writ to allow the crown heir to swear his or her oath of allegiance without a spouse. You cannot believe people will balk at such a modern move. In fact, I believe they’ll see it as the House of Blue becoming more relevant. How many Lauchtens are really for the monarch to go away? A few rabble rousers at Fickle’s campus gatherings? And you know he’d not be the first MP or lord or political opponent to take a shot at our bow. We’re still here. Stronger than ever.”
“Beautiful speech, son. But the writ stands.” Catherine practiced that line for the past week.
He moved with frustration around the audience room. “What if I promise to marry within the next two years?”
“Six months.”
“Six months? You cannot be serious.” Then he swung around to her. “Whoever I want?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean? I should tell you I’ve reached out to Sydney’s parents. We might have a dinner. Here.”
“Go ahead but I won’t be there.” By his tone she understood he battled the call of duty over the call of his heart.
Welcome to the crown, my son. She knew the feeling all too well.
“My father gave me an ultimatum when I returned home from America. After leaving Scottie with Trent. I met your father within the month, and we’ve been happy and in love for thirty-six years.”
“I’m not you. I’ll marry who I want, when I want.”
“Within the next six months.”
“Why six months? What’s the rush? Are you going somewhere?”
“No, but this bout with Guillain-Barré has made me realized we cannot delay the investiture. I’ll sleep easy at night knowing you are my full and rightful heir.”
Hands in his pockets, John stared at the window for a long while. At last he said, “I met an interesting man in Dalholm. Emmanuel.”
“You saw Emmanuel?” The holy man now appeared to her firstborn.
“We chatted at the Belly of the Beast. I think he healed Briley. Know what he told me?”
“What?” Catherine wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“That my best friend needed me.”
“Your best friend? Really? That’s rather curious. Did he mean Larabee? Or perhaps Lute?”
