“Then it must have been for love,” Kitty said.
“The royal family has no business being foolish over love,” Janet said. “They have their duty.”
Kitty remembered such discussions in the past. Some of the newspapers provided royal gossip, and broadsheets sold on the street spread even more, some of it scandalous, and people drank it up. In the past, such talk had seemed merely amusing, but now, with danger hovering, she was uncomfortable.
“The Duke of York married just as he ought,” Amy Lassiter said. “It seems most unjust that he has no children from that after more than twenty years.”
“Just as he ought, perhaps,” said Janet, “but they soon found they didn’t suit, and no one gets children when living apart. It’s as if they go out of their way to make things difficult!”
“I’ve heard,” said Sally in a low voice, “that the Hanoverian royals arecursed.For stealing the throne.”
“Only think of Princess Charlotte!” Rachel exclaimed. “And the king’s madness.”
Kitty quickly intervened. “They were invited, I believe, so the nation should be cursed, not them. And we were victorious over Napoleon.”
“And that’s another thing,” Sally said. “Now we could end up with a Bonaparte on the throne!”
“What?” Kitty wasn’t the only one exclaiming.
“It was in theChronicle—a list of the Protestant succession. One of Napoleon’s brothers married a German princess with a right to the throne, and they had a son.”
“I don’t believe it,” Kitty said.
“That’s what it said!”
“Yes, yes, but sometimes they invent nonsense to alarm. And even if it were true,” Kitty said, “the Bonaparte must be far down the family tree. One or more of the royal dukes will soon marry and we’ll have a proper British heir.”
Kitty took her leave soon after that. When they were on the street, she said, “Such nonsense. A Bonaparte on the British throne!”
“It could well be true,” Henry said. “Napoleon liked to marry his brothers and sisters into royal families around Europe.”
“All the more reason for the royal dukes who are free to marry to get on with it. At least one of them has to be able to sire a child.” Kitty pointed right to one of the simple two-story terraced houses. “That was our house. How small it looks. We had only the ground-floor rooms, of course. But there were good times.”
“People don’t need much to be happy,” Henry said.
“That’s not what many think.”
“And having plenty doesn’t make people happy.”
“Such as the dowager. In my experience, having plenty only makes life more complicated! Come along. We can get a hackney nearby.” But then Sillikin pulled against the leash and Kitty saw why. “There’s Captain Edison.” Immediately Kitty wished she could avoid a meeting, but he’d seen them and was crossing the road to greet the dog and then her.
Kitty greeted him with a smile. “I’m surprised to find you here, Captain Edison.”
“Why? It’s familiar enough territory. You’ve been visiting your old home?”
“No, my old dressmaker. Or, rather, my current one. We must make haste. I have another commitment.” Kitty walked on, annoyed with herself for feeling uncomfortable.
He kept pace with her. “I’ll escort you.”
Kitty saw Henry sending her a question. Either of them could get rid of him, but only with unpleasantness.
“No coach?” he asked.
“I’m not so fancy as that. I came by hackney. I’ll get one on the Edgware Road.”
“Your husband is neglectful.”
“Nonsense.”
