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  “Oh?” He was openly skeptical. “How?”

  “Well, he was straightforward about what you might expect from me, so I felt it only fair to be as blunt with him about my expectations for a husband.” She took a shuddery breath. “He was squeamish about my explicitness. And appalled by my list.”

  “What ‘list’?” His eyes and mouth both tightened.

  “Qualities I would accept in a husband. I insisted we come to London to find someone who would meet them.”

  “You truly intended to marry?”

  “I was resigned to it, Highness.”

  He stared at her as if having difficulty with the notion of anyone being “resigned” to amorous pursuits with him.

  “Damn and blast me,” he said, searching her face, her eyes.

  She wilted a bit under that scrutiny. He was a formidable presence, for all his princely ways. It was a relief when he looked away.

  “The thing is, Highness, I discovered he met every criterion on my list. Every one. And then some. He was patient, honorable, respectful…I came to enjoy and then crave his company. He can be quite droll when he wants. And he laughed in all the right places and sometimes teased me.”

  “Laughed?” Bertie looked away, seeming disturbed by that idea. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Jack let go that much.”

  “He has a wonderful, deep, booming laugh, Highness. And when I learned how he had given up his scholarly hopes to serve you, and—”

  “Scholarly hopes?”

  “His studies at Cambridge. He was asked to stay, you know, and continue his work. Perhaps join the faculty.”

  “Who told you such a thing?”

  “His old professor at Cambridge. Jack’s family insisted he leave the college to come and serve you after his elder brother was married.”

  “I’ve heard enough.” He waved a hand to enforce the command and then rose, looking none too pleased. He paced for a moment in silence as she watched with icy limbs, a dry mouth and a thudding heart.

  “You wish me to believe this was all unintended? Just the flow of circumstance?” Bertie said, coming to a halt nearby.

  “My wishing you to believe it does not make it any less true, Highness. Jack is the most loyal man you will ever meet. And it was never my intention to give offense, despite my reservations.”

  Bertie stalked away again, his hands clasped behind his back, looking as though he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Then he turned to her.

  “Very well, I release you from our agreement…with the understanding that I am released as well. The expenses incurred will now fall to you, madam, as debts to be paid.”

  She felt the color draining from her face. She looked down at her costly blue silk, which suddenly felt more like a prisoner’s shackles than elegant couture. The half smile on his face said he read her reaction well.

  “Now that you see the limitations this marriage places on your future, what if I were to give you a second chance to cast your fortunes with me?”

  “What?” She pushed to her feet and swayed slightly.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the diamond brooch.

  “Jack’s family is ambitious. This could be just the start of a very stylish and luxurious life for you, my dear. And the making of Jack’s career. Many men in government have been helped along by wives willing to do their part…in a prince’s bed.” He held out the brooch with a knowing expression. “We could forget all of this unpleasantness and start again.”

  Was he serious? Had he heard, believed nothing that she had said?

  Her heart sank at the thought of all that was stacked against them—Bertie’s disapproval as well as Jack’s family’s, and now a host of fresh debts that must be paid. Would Jack regret that their marriage had cost him the prince’s trust and the financial security and opportunities that came with it?

  “You are more than generous, Highness, to offer such an opportunity a second time.” She forced herself to stand tall. “But my heart and loyalties are now Jack’s. And though I wish to be loyal to my prince, there are things I cannot render to you without being even more disloyal to the one who holds my heart.” She felt her face might shatter from the effort her smile required. “I would not, could not betray him in another’s bed. Not for all the jewels and riches and palaces in the kingdom.”

  Abruptly, he strode for the side door, calling for Jack A. Dandy, who appeared in seconds, peering curiously at her.

  “Cranmer,” he declared, “show Mrs. St. Lawrence around the gaming tables and give her some chips to play.” His voice was cool and imperial. “Clearly, she’s of a mood to test her luck tonight.”

  She left the library feeling unsteady and disoriented, glad for the support of Dandy’s arm. What had just happened with the prince? Did he believe her? Did he understand that in loving Jack, she meant no disrespect toward him? Was he furious? Would he seek retribution? It unnerved her that she had no more answers now than when she went in to see him.

  “Jack,” she said quietly, gripping Dandy’s arm. “Where is he?”

  “He’s with the prince,” Dandy said, patting her hand as it lay on his arm. “Come now. I’ll show you how the betting’s done.”

  22

  JACK TRIED not to look as if he was pacing outside the library door. He couldn’t help feeling he should have shouldered his way in and faced Bertie with her. Several times, he stepped to the door. Twice his fingers actually gripped the knob. They had intended to speak to the prince together to reveal their marriage. Why hadn’t he just barged in with her?

  When the door finally opened, it was Bertie himself who stood just inside. The prince looked him up and down before ordering him to “close the door behind you.”

  Bertie settled on the edge of the large mahogany desk and crossed his arms, looking irritable indeed.

  “Sit,” he commanded, nodding to the chair in front of him.

  Jack didn’t need to be told that Bertie had heard the truth from Mariah, but the prince’s demeanor gave no hint of how he’d taken the news.

  “What the hell have you done?” the prince demanded after a moment. “I told you to find her a husband—not marry her yourself! Are you mad?”

  “Probably.” Jack swallowed hard. Bertie clearly hadn’t taken the news well. “Mad as a march hare. But a very happy march hare, Highness.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that ‘Highness’ nonsense. There’s no quicker way to earn a ‘sod off’ from me, and you know it. How could you, Jack?” His voice and face became thunderous. “You had a bright and promising future ahead of you. The right marriage, a word from me here and there, and you would have been—”

  “Condemned to a prosperous, dull, stifling life doing things I never wanted to do,” Jack said, fully aware of the risk he took in interrupting.

  Bertie was shocked speechless for a moment.

  “You mean to say you’ve been bored and miserable in my company?” he thundered.

  “Not at all,” Jack protested, leaning forward. “I have greatly enjoyed being part of your hunting circle, and I feel privileged to have been of service to you. But, as an old professor of mine recently reminded me, a man has obligations besides those to his country and family. How can a man do his best for his country and family if there is nothing inside him but duty and obligation? If the whole of his inner self is an empty shell?”

  Bertie stared at him, seeming troubled, before stalking away to pick up the antique volume that had interested him earlier.

  Jack took a deep breath, watching Bertie, praying his next words would find some resonance in the prince’s well-guarded heart.

  “Love and passion…curiosity and wonder…joy and hope…there is a whole world of feelings and experiences beyond the satisfaction of loyalty and a duty well done. You, more than all other men, know that to be truly alive, a man must have more than duty in his soul.” He rose to face Bertie, who looked down, reacting strongly to the truth of Jack’s words.

  “For these l
ast three years,” Jack continued, “I have given you my loyalty and held your interests above all else. Is it disloyal of me now to want what fills my heart and makes me a better, more complete man?”

  Bertie turned enough to search him with rueful eyes.

  “Tell me the truth, Jack. Why did you marry her?”

  Jack squared his shoulders, praying his words would find their target.

  “The truth is, I went to negotiate for a mistress and discovered a woman who couldn’t be bought.” He gave a pained smile. “I went to find her a husband and found the missing parts of my heart instead. I expected a clever, calculating female and found a warm, intelligent woman who wasn’t afraid to speak for herself and others. I married her because I couldn’t bear to let her go. She is the half of me I hadn’t even known was missing.”

  “She’s a conniving wench,” Bertie charged, without much heat.

  “That she is.” Jack’s smile softened.

  “She’s beguiled you.”

  “And what a sweet bit of sorcery it’s been,” Jack agreed, his tension easing.

  “She’s likely to be the death of your career.”

  At that, Jack sobered. It took a minute for him to collect himself.

  “Any career that required me to renounce the foundation of my heart and the love that sustains me is not likely to hold me for long, anyway.”

  Bertie wagged his head and, after a moment, shifted his approach.

  “What if a prince believes that one of his beloved friends has made a grave and costly mistake? Is he not obligated to set things right?”

  “What is right, sir?” Jack sensed the change and joined Bertie in a mode of discussion they had often followed. “Is it the outcome that pleases you personally or is it the one that makes for a more harmonious kingdom? Is it the conformity of men’s lives to a prince’s desires, or is it a prince’s acceptance of his people’s right to determine their own happiness?

  “All princes demand loyalty, as is their right. But a good prince knows how to give loyalty as well as require it. And a wise prince knows and respects the hearts of his people.”

  Emboldened by the warmth and camaraderie of a hundred nights spent together and dozens of conversations, Jack engaged Bertie’s eyes.

  “I am your man, Your Highness. I will always be. But there are times I must be my own man as well.”

  After a moment, Bertie turned back to the book in his hands.

  “I appreciate your honesty, Jack. I always have.” His voice sounded thick with emotion. “I hope someday you will appreciate mine.”

  With that, he turned his back and Jack understood he was dismissed.

  He rose and strode out, reeling from the unexpected nature of the interview and utterly confounded by Bertie’s reaction. Had he been cast aside? Was he now persona non grata with the prince?

  He hurried from salon to salon, searching for Mariah, and found her in the baccarat room, seated at a table behind several sizeable stacks of playing chips. When he set his hands on her shoulders she jumped and turned with her hand to her throat.

  “What happened?” She would have stood, but he prevented her from rising and bent to whisper to her.

  “I have no idea. I can’t tell if he’s furious or disappointed or about to roar ‘off with his head.’” He glanced at Dandy, who vacated the chair beside her for him.

  “She’s uncommonly lucky, this new wife of yours.” Dandy grinned.

  “I am the one with the real luck, Cranmer.” He smiled at her until his gaze finally registered the size of the stacks of chips before her. He sat down with a thud on Dandy’s chair. “A-are those all yours?”

  “Yes,” she said, reaching for his hands, aware of the avid faces of the people crowded around the table. “I seem to have a knack for it. I mean, the game just requires doing a few sums and then holding your breath as the cards are dealt. See?”

  Even as he watched, she played another hand, then another, raking in an astonishing pile of chips each time. The small crowd that had gathered in the gaming room grew with each winning hand she played. For a moment their precarious position was eclipsed by the surprise of such a financial windfall. She smiled at him and he chuckled, shaking his head.

  “I should have known. If anyone would have beginner’s luck—”

  “I suggest you quit while you are ahead, little brother,” came a hostile voice over their shoulders.

  Jared had worked his way through the spectators and stood behind their chairs, staring down his long, patrician nose. He bent toward Jack and lowered his voice. “Surely you can tell when you’re no longer wanted. Save us all the humiliation of Bertie’s public cut. Take your tart and leave.”

  Jack shot to his feet and pushed Jared back from the table, through the ring of spectators. Jared seized his wrists, Jack grabbed Jared’s lapels, and suddenly they were shoving and grappling, snarling at each other as they pitched wildly through the crowd.

  “Jack—no—please!” Mariah rushed to follow them as excitement erupted through the crowd. Her heart was in her throat as Jack and his brother struggled, evenly matched, faces furious, teeth gritted.

  “Well, well. What have we here?” The prince’s irate voice cut through the tension, and the spectators parted around Jack and Jared to admit Bertie and his comrades. Sprat and Dandy rushed to haul the men apart, and were soon joined by Jack Ketch and two other distinguished-looking guests. They peeled Jack from his brother’s lapels, muttering cautions and demanding the hostility cease. The sight of the Prince of Wales’s icy disapproval was enough to cool their tempers and restore some reason.

  “A family spat?” Bertie said with all the force of a royal edict. “Come now. We’ll have no more of that. Not on such a momentous occasion.”

  Jack glowered at his brother even as Mariah rushed to his side and seized his arm, holding him back from any further conflict. It took a moment for Bertie’s statement to sink in and Jack to look from her to Bertie. She threaded her fingers through his and found him trembling slightly. Their fate was being announced in front of half of London’s worldly elite.

  “Occasion, Your Highness?” Jack said in choked tones.

  “It’s not every day one of my St. Lawrences is wedded, now is it? Come, come—a toast is in order. Where the devil is that champagne?”

  Mariah looked to Jack in astonishment, finding him equally surprised. The prince was proposing a wedding toast for them? Half an hour ago he seemed ready to declare them traitors and banish them from his sight.

  As glasses of the pale, bubbly wine were circulated among the guests, Bertie insinuated himself between Jack and Mariah, clamping an arm around each, giving them both dangerously cheery looks as he held them forcefully at his sides.

  “I take special pride in this union,” he announced with emphatic good humor that seemed to be aimed at Jared as much as the crowd around them, “since I was partly responsible for bringing it about. As matchmaker, I would be the first to raise a glass and wish the happy couple—” he released Jack long enough to take a glass of the bubbly from a tray “—long life and happiness and prosperity! To Jack St. Lawrence, the new Secretary General of the Office of Patents, and his lovely bride!”

  A wave of congratulations and good wishes swept the crowd, above an undercurrent of curiosity and speculation. This was hardly the usual venue for nuptial celebrations, much less announcements of government appointments. And the near brawl between the groom and his brother hinted that there was a juicy bit more to the story than the prince suggested.

  Jared scowled in confusion at the glass Jack Sprat shoved into his hand, but under Bertie’s pointed stare, joined the toast and drank.

  “The Patent Office, Highness?” Jack said, shocked down to his knees.

  “You’re always studying some new scientific process or investigating machinery of some kind…figuring out how things work. I’m not blind, you know. In three years, I have taken notice.” Bertie looked pointedly at Mariah. “And I have it on good auth
ority that you have always had a yen for science and are brilliant at recognizing the value of inventions. Why not put all that passion to work for crown and empire?”

  “Why not indeed?” Mariah said, squeezing Jack’s arm, grinning.

  “Bertie, I’m overwhelmed,” Jack stammered. “It’s—it’s—”

  “Perfect for you, I know,” Bertie declared with preening satisfaction. “Knowing what people are good for is something I’m brilliant at.”

  Jack barely had a chance to thank Bertie before the prince was pulling the glasses from their hands and dragging them along in his beefy grip.

  “I believe, as your prince and benefactor,” Bertie said with a wicked glint in his eye, “I should get to see your first dance as man and wife.”

  “Dance?” Jack dragged him to a halt, looking as if he’d been impaled.

  With a wicked laugh, Bertie led them into the broad downstairs hall, where the musicians ground to a halt at the sight of him. He ordered up a waltz and then motioned the newlyweds onto the clearing floor. Jack tried not to look as sick as he felt as he escorted Mariah out onto the dance floor.

  “Damn his hide, he knows how much I hate dancing,” Jack muttered as the music started. “This is pure revenge.”

  She laughed. “Compared to what he might have done, this is easy.”

  “For you, maybe,” he grumbled, trying to catch the beat of the music.

  “Yes, for me.” She looked up into his tense gaze, drawing him into her smile and into her love. “So, you’ll just have to depend on me for help.” Her smile broadened. “And isn’t that the way it should be?” She laughed and leaned closer to whisper, “It’s simple…just ‘one, two three’…‘one two three.’” She looked up, her eyes shining. “Let the music fill your heart as you fill mine. And we’ll be the only people in the room.”