“Bah, the right girl. All this talk of bloodlines! What does it matter who he marries, so long as they make each other happy?”
The Grand Duke frowned. “Surely you don’t mean that.”
“It’s time to throw another ball,” declared the king. “A masquerade ball, so that way Charles will forget this mystery girl.”
“Sire, you just threw a ball!” Ferdinand said, his frown deepening. Already his mind was reeling over what costs another ball would entail, and all his careful work balancing the budget. He would have to change the king’s mind, and quickly—once George was set on something, the stubborn old man wouldn’t let it go. “If it’s the prince’s future you’re concerned about, why not consider my list of eligible princesses—”
“No more princesses. I don’t have time for fiddling over peace treaties and allocating dowries and such. If it’s money you’re worried about, think of how much we’ll save on the wedding if we just have it right here.”
“That’s not what I meant, sire.”
“Then what better time to throw another one? The wine’s been opened, the floors already polished.”
“But what... what will we say?”
“Say?” King George coughed, his thick white eyebrows knitting together. “I’m the king, aren’t I? We don’t have to say anything.”
Ferdinand grimaced and crossed his arms. The king was being far too insistent about this idea. Usually he at least considered Ferdinand’s suggestions. But ever since Charles had returned—and now Genevieve—everything was spiraling out of control.
“This isheridea, isn’t it?” Ferdinand said in realization, unable to mitigate the irritation in his voice.
The king ignored him. “Indeed! What better way to welcome my sister to the palace than with a ball? And Charles gets another chance to meet his true love.”
Ferdinand detected an elusive strain in George’s voice, but he looked better than he had the past month. When his son had returned, so had the bloom in his cheeks and some of the vigor in his personality. Certainly, his stubbornness.
Ferdinand would bide his time. Carefully.
In the meantime, he had more important issues to press. “Perhaps, sire, we’d be better off trying to arrange a marriage for the prince with the Princess of Lourdes.”
“An arranged marriage? You remember how that turned out for Genevieve. Also, the Lourdes royal family is unbearable.”
“Yes, but I’m sure the prince will see reason once we explain.”
“Bah, reason. Does a young man pining for a girl with a glass slipper sound like someone who is prone to reason?”
“No, sire, but—”
“And didn’t you doubt that my plan would work? If it worked once, it can work again.” King George clasped his hands together and rubbed them. “All we have to do is create the right mood, invite the right girls.”
Ferdinand’s brow furrowed. “But why a masquerade?”
“Genevieve has this idea that the boy will find true love better if he’s not blinded by the girl’s beauty.” King George coughed. “Always practical, my sister.”
“Sire, are you all right?”
“I’m fine!” barked the king. “Stop questioning me, and do what I ask.”
Calm, Ferdinand. If the king is going to be dead set on Charles marrying, you must see to it that he selectsyourbride. A bride the council will thank you for choosing.
“I don’t think that another ball is the answer. Give Charles some time, and he’ll forget the girl. Then we can arrange a marriage for him with a proper princess from one of the neighboring—”
“The ball’s been decided,” interrupted the king. “This is your last chance, Ferdinand. Don’t disappoint me again.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty.” The Grand Duke swept a bow, but as soon as he turned away from the king, he scowled. Things were not going as he had planned. Not at all.
When he returned to his chambers, Ferdinand sank into his chair and drummed his fingers on his desk. If the king wanted to be foolish and take Genevieve’s advice over his, then more drastic measures needed to be taken. The duke needed to prepare for the worst: it stood to reason that when Charles ascended the throne, he would kick Ferdinand out of the council and replace him with some radical fool he’d met at university.
Ferdinand needed to cement his power, and now. If he could finagle Charles into marrying the Princess of Lourdes, her father would reward him handsomely, maybe even insist on making him ambassador to Lourdes. The council would laud him for being the engineer of such a desirable royal union: his legacy would be established, and his power impossible to undermine—even for Charles.
