Page 24 of Triumph at Pemberley

“I wish I knew! Either I have forgotten, or we were never told.” Then she suddenly brightened. “It would be easy for you, though. You could give your portrait to your dragon, and he could restore you.”

Could that work? Jack would not always have Roderick to stop him from going too far, but perhaps Gentiane could learn to do it. It was worth a try, at least. He would ask Gentiane about it tonight and start working on his portrait.

It was an immense relief to be able to speak to someone who did not find his bond extraordinary. And it gave him hope.

Chapter 10

“AMr. Hayward is here to see you, sir.” The Darcy House butler offered Jack a silver salver with a card.

Jack reluctantly picked it up and frowned at it. He had no desire to speak to a stranger. Especially one from the Royal Household. What did the king want now? “Show him in, I suppose.”

Why could they not leave him alone, at least at home? He was spending every morning with Roderick working on his damned Bond, and he deserved the rest of the time off. There was something about being at Darcy House that relieved the crushing load on his shoulders. These last weeks, since Mrs. Hartung and her children had arrived, it had become his refuge. It was like coming home to a family, or at least to people who were glad to see him.

People who did not care at all about the King's Bond or his potential to save England. People who were not trying to find some way to use him.

He loved going upstairs to the old nursery, now reassigned as a temporary schoolroom for Alexandrine and Friedrich where he let them climb all over him and tell him with great enthusiasm about their day. Were all children so resilient? They had been taken into exile in France, their parents hostages to Napoleon. Their father had been killed in Napoleon's war, and later they had been taken from the only home they knew to Prussia, only to have to flee again to England.

Yet it did not seem to have depressed their spirits. They had set about improving their English in that astonishingly quick way of young children, and they had accepted Jack into their lives as if he had always been there.

He wished he could adapt to his changes as easily. Instead, he had to deal with the thrice-damned Royal Household.

The caller proved to be a distinguished gentleman dressed in a finely tailored suit. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Darcy. “

As if he had a choice. “Of course. What can I do for you?” He ought to have invited him to sit first and discussed the weather, but he did not want to encourage this sort of thing.

“I am here on business for the king and the Privy Council. They have been discussing the matter of your marriage.”

Oh, no. Best to cut that off now. “Could this not wait until after we have faced Napoleon? I have no time to think about anything but my training now.”

Hayward coughed softly. “I fear time is the one thing we do not have. The king does not wish to take the risk of losing your gift once again. You have no children yet, but you could conceive an heir before you go into battle – if you marry immediately.”

Heat flushed through Jack’s body. “You may tell the king that I am no one’s breeding stock,” he bit out.

“I understand your discomfort with the idea,” Hayward said diplomatically. “It is an unfortunate consequence of having royal blood. Most princes would have understood it to be their fate since childhood. Naturally it comes as a shock to you.”

“I am not a prince, merely a prince’s bastard,” Jack snapped. He did not care how rude he was being.

‘Sir, perhaps you would be willing to at least hear out the king’s proposal before you decide.”

He wanted to refuse. Oh, how he wanted to throw this upstart out of the house! But it would be unreasonable to refuse to even listen. “Fine. Though it will not change my mind.”

“I thank you. To strengthen your bond to the royal family, the king has proposed Miss Sophia Fitzclarence as your bride. She is a pretty girl, well-mannered and pleasant. He intends to recognize her as his granddaughter and will give her a generous dowry for the occasion.”

Fitzclarence. He knew nothing of the girl, but the Duke of Clarence, the king’s son, had a mistress whose children were all called Fitzclarence. “A bastard for the bastard,” he said savagely. “Lovely.”

“The king is also prepared to allow the duke to marry Mrs. Jordan, which would regularize Miss Fitzclarence’s status, at least according to Scots law.”

The king wanted this badly enough to let his son marry a comic actress, after refusing permission for decades? It was an enormous concession, but it made no difference to Jack. “I have heard your proposal, and the answer is still no.”

“I will pass that along. I wish I could say that would be the end of it, but you may have no choice. The king is insistent, and the Privy Council is already planning to summon you to speak further on the subject.”

His throat turned to ice. What would he do if King George commanded him to marry the girl?

Then Mrs. Hartung's light voice floated into the room. “Pray pardon this interruption, gentlemen, but this marriage you propose is impossible.”

A flood of relief filled Jack. Nothing she said could make any difference, but it helped just to have her there.

Hayward looked down his nose at her. “Madam, I must ask you to excuse us. This is private business.”