Simon arched his brow. “Agree?”
“Indeed. The regent wants to suggest a marriage between Queen Isabella of Leaudor and the Duke of Malbane.” His eyes twinkled merrily as he studied Simon.
Marry Isabella? He stared at the duke in stunned disbelief.
“I can see I caught you quite by surprise.”
Simon continued to stare, his ability to form a coherent thought all but gone. Father Ling. Now his visit made sense. The crafty old monk. How had he known? Simon shook his head. No sense even asking such an absurd question.
He focused his attention back on Ardmore. “I am honored by His Highness’s regard, but if I were to marry Isa—the Queen of Leaudor—I would be expected to swear allegiance to Leaudor. Serve her and not England.”
The duke smiled. “You have served England well these past years. Indeed, she has had no more faithful steward. His Highness has complete confidence that your marriage to Her Majesty would benefit England. And that you would continue to serve our interests with your presence there.”
He leaned forward, his expression becoming serious. “You’re miserable, Merrick. It’s time to address your own needs. It’s why I suggested to His Highness…that is, His Highness suggested this marriage,” he corrected in mid-sentence.
Understanding dawned. “You petitioned His Highness for the marriage.”
The duke shifted in his seat then fixed Simon with his stare. “I did.”
“Am I so transparent?” Simon asked with a forced laugh.
“When you returned from Leaudor, I knew something was wrong,” the duke said quietly. “You weren’t the same man as before. Much of it was to do with Kirkland’s betrayal, I know. You counted him as a brother. But there was something else. I didn’t want you to travel to the continent. In fact, had we not had such a pressing need for your services, I would have grounded you immediately and sent you packing to your estate.”
Simon sat in silence and looked down at the table. What could he say? He was receiving the blessing of his monarch to wed the queen of another country, all but commanded to do so. A woman he loved, who might just love him despite her statements to the contrary.
After so many months of desolation, the unfamiliar flicker of hope was tapping a steady rhythm in his chest. Dare he take a chance that Father Ling was right? He rubbed a hand through his hair, unsure of what to say, what to decide.
“I can see this has come as a shock,” the duke murmured. “I was led to believe that you held some affection for Her Majesty, and that she returned it to some degree. Was I wrong to pursue the angle of a political marriage?”
Simon stared intently at the duke, wondering just how he’d come by his information. “No,” he finally said. “You weren’t wrong. I do…love her,” he finished awkwardly.
“Then what are you waiting for?” the duke asked with an arched eyebrow. “His Highness won’t extend the offer for long. He was quite cross at the prospect of losing one his best agents, but the idea of gaining an ally overwhelmed any protest he had.”
Whatwashe waiting for? He had just been handed the chance to marry the woman he loved beyond measure without proving himself disloyal to the country he had served for the last eight years.
If Father Ling was right…and Isabella really loved him. But was he right? Simon shook his head and curled his fingers into a fist.
“What say you, Merrick? Or should I say Malbane? Are you prepared to do one last good for England?”
Chapter Thirty-One
Leaudor
October 1815
“Your Majesty, an English contingent has just arrived and awaits an audience with you.”
Isabella turned in surprise as her secretary made the announcement. She frowned. She expected no such visitor. “Who leads this contingent?” she asked.
“His Grace, the Duke of Malbane.”
Isabella turned back to her view from her private balcony, disappointment heavy in her heart. “Inform His Grace that I will receive him shortly. See that he has refreshment and place him in my private sitting room.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Isabella listened as her secretary quit the room then expelled a long sigh. Time had not lessened the pain of losing Merrick. She still felt it as keenly as if it were yesterday. But what nearly destroyed her was the look of anguish in his eyes as she said those damning words.
I don’t love you.
