Never Deny a Duke

by Hunter, Madeline

  His Majesty waited there in all his corpulent excess. He looked displeased, which transformed his mouth into an unpleasant pout. Seeing Eric hardly changed his demeanor. Ever since Eric had voted against his divorce, the king had let his dislike be known.

  Haversham stood beside the king. He smiled a greeting, along with a bow.

  “Brentworth,” the king said. “Good of you to come. We’ve a situation here and need to plan how to address it.”

  “His Majesty refers to Miss MacCallum’s claim,” Haversham said.

  “He knows what I refer to,” the king snapped. “Don’t you, Brentworth?”

  “I deduced that much. Two invitations in a week, no less. This matter can’t be serious enough for that.”

  “It’s damnable serious.”

  “I think he was making a joke, Your Majesty,” Haversham bent to speak in the king’s ear. “He was not making light of your concern.”

  “I can speak for myself, Haversham. Yes, it is serious. Whenever someone wants to steal land from my inherited honor, it is most serious.”

  It was not the answer the king wanted. He frowned furiously. “You only inherited it because my father gave it to a Brentworth before you. It is officially ours to give or take.”

  “It has been a very long time since a king has taken lands from a duke without that duke being attainted,” Eric said. “A very, very long time.” He looked the king right in the eye. “The peerage would not take such a thing well at all, as I’m sure your advisers have explained.”

  That quelled the king. He looked at Haversham desperately before regaining his severity. “See here, it may be serious for you, to your mind, but it is much more serious for us. We’ll not have this minor bit of land resulting in our name being bandied about. Or that of our father! She went to Stratton’s duchess and told her about this, and who knows where that will lead. That woman owns that damn journal and has no sense of decorum. She savaged her own family in a story, so expecting her to respect the Crown is hopeless. Furthermore—”

  “The duchess will not print rumors and innuendo. It is not in her nature, nor would it benefit her journal. If it gives you any reassurance, she has promised me as a favor to desist in any interest in this until the matter is settled.”

  “The gossips will get hold of it anyway. They always do.”

  “As you may know, I dislike being the object of it as much as Your Majesty, perhaps even more. Regrettably, I cannot silence every gossip.”

  “There are some who don’t like us,” the king muttered petulantly. “They will whisper we can’t keep our word. Disparage our honor. Defile our father’s name too. This must be . . . must be . . .”

  “Nipped in the bud?” Haversham offered.

  “Ripped out by its roots would be better,” the king snapped. He settled back and focused on Eric. “We’ve a plan.”

  Hell. “Do you indeed? I trust that it is not that I just give her the land. Every charlatan in the kingdom will be making up stories and claims against peers’ properties, then. Nor would you want me to accommodate a fraud, I am sure.”

  “And if she isn’t a fraud?” Haversham said.

  “Do you have reason to think she is not?”

  “She is a most unlikely fraud, that is all.”

  Eric could not believe the utter lack of reasoning at work. “Let us be frank. If this claim came from a man of ambiguous history, based on some story told by his father, no one would give it the slightest credence. But let a handsome woman be the liar, and suddenly she is plausible.”

  The king’s eyes brightened. “So you find her handsome? We did, but not in a typical way.”

  “Handsome or homely, she still has no proof and should not be encouraged.”

  “But you referred to her as handsome.”

  “Yes, fine, I find her handsome. Can we return to the matter at hand?”

  The king looked back at Haversham smugly. “He thinks she is handsome. We told you our plan would work.”

  Eric did not like the king’s sudden confidence. “What plan is this?”

  The king gave Haversham a direct look. Haversham cleared his throat. “His Majesty thinks there is a way to compromise her claim quickly, at no cost to you.”

  “What the hell does that mean, compromise her claim?”

  “Give her half a loaf, so to speak, so she is contented.”

  “If you mean give her half the land, I refuse. Does no one else see the dangerous precedent this could create?” Eric battled to keep his tone even, but as so often happened with the king, his temper was beginning to rise.

  “Not half the land, no,” Haversham said. “Not give her any, in a manner of speaking. The plan is that—”

  “Stop talking in circles.” The king leaned forward and balanced his weight on his hands, which he set firmly on his knees. “Everything will be fixed neatly if you marry her, Brentworth.”

  Eric just stared.

  “You are past the age. It is time. Why not this handsome woman?”

  Eric kept staring.

  “The thinking is that should her claim be proven, it will not matter if you are married,” Haversham said soothingly. “The lands would have been joined already. And if it turns out she is a baroness—”

  “Madness that they allow women to inherit titles up there, but we are stuck with it,” the king inserted. “But it won’t matter if you are married, will it? Better, actually. Good blood on both sides, then.”

  “And if she isn’t a baroness but a lying female scoundrel?” Eric said.

  Something in his tone had Haversham sweating and the king shrinking. The king nudged Haversham.

  “There is reason to believe she is not,” Haversham said. “That letter from the last king, for example. Her name. There is a fair chance she is correct in her claim.”

  It was time to kill this plan. Now, before the king warmed to it even more. “I do not know anything about this woman. Nor do I think there is a fair chance she is correct. In any case, I have no intention of marrying her. Find another plan.”

  The king frowned darkly. “Don’t know her well? Hell, we didn’t know our wife at all when she was chosen. We don’t worry about such things. Duty, duty.” He made an ugly face. “Nor did you have any sympathy for how that affected us, so don’t expect us to be overly concerned with your marital bliss now. We say you will marry her.”

  “You don’t get to say that and you know it. I’ll not have my life become a convenient solution to a problem of your own making.”

  “We are your king, damn it.”

  “And I am Brentworth.”

  “As Brentworth, it is your duty to—”

  “My duty is to the Crown. Not to your whims.” He stood. “I will take my leave now, with your permission. I repeat, find another plan.”

  “We will no longer receive you if you do not do as we say,” the king yelled when he reached the door. “You will be banned from Court, from our presence, and all society will know of our disfavor.”

  “Do your worst, Your Majesty. Only remember that if society learns of your disfavor, it is apt to also learn the reason for it.”

  * * *

  Eric prided himself on clear thinking. Logic and reason marked his consideration of any matter. He therefore found it extremely uncomfortable to find his mind jumping from one indignant curse to another for the next few hours.

  The conversation with the king would have been comical if it had not been so outrageous. Where in hell had he decided he had the power to decree that a duke marry? They weren’t living in the Middle Ages. No doubt all the toadies around him acquiesced to his slightest desire, and he mistakenly had grown to believe anyone would.

  I am Brentworth. Hell yes, he was Brentworth. He would be ostracized from Court? What a welcomed respite that would be.

  Marry that fraud? Not likely. Not ever. Yes, he needed to marry, it was past time, etcetera. He had already planned to take care of that next season. He’d pick some dutiful girl and get on with it.
But not at the command of someone else. Not at the point of a sword.

  Was the king going mad like his father? Or was this just a desperate move by a king foreseeing how his honor might be mocked by the people he sat with at dinner parties?

  By evening, he was still pacing his house with his jaw as tight as a screw press. He called a footman and sent him out with a message. A half hour later, Stratton arrived, entering the library like a man in a hurry.

  “Are you unwell?”

  Eric saw the mask of concern on his friend’s face. “Not unless fury’s fever counts.”

  “The note—it was vague—Come at once if you can, it said.” Stratton took a deep breath. “You have never done that before. I thought perhaps you had been stricken in some way. Hell, I didn’t even wait for my horse to be saddled. I came on foot. I ran, damn it.”

  “My apologies. I have been stricken in a way, however. When you hear about it you will understand.”

  “Will I be taken by fury’s fever too?”

  “It is my hope that you will bring me to my good senses so maybe I will laugh.”

  He pointed to the decanters. Stratton poured himself some whiskey. “If you also sent for Langford, do not wait on him. He was going out tonight and will not receive your message until very late.”

  “I did not send for him. He would enjoy this too much. Then I would have to thrash him and the night would end poorly.”

  “If he would enjoy it, perhaps I will laugh even if you don’t. What has happened?”

  “I saw the king today. At his request. Regarding Miss MacCallum’s little problem.”

  Stratton pursed his lips. “Why do I think the conversation did not go well?”

  “Because it didn’t. The king devised a clever plan, you see. A way to make his obligations go away. His solution was to command me to marry the woman. He was not joking either. He meant it, as did that worthless Haversham.”

  Stratton’s mouth twitched, but he avoided laughing. “What did you say to that?”

  “What did I say? Damnation, I refused, of course.” He repeated the conversation, so Stratton would know all of it.

  Stratton got up and poured more whiskey. He sat again. “So you reminded the king that he did not have the power to make such commands, and you all but dared him to do his worst.” He paused. “You lost your temper with him.”

  “Not completely, but, yes, I was a bit sharp.” More than a bit, now that he thought about it.

  “That is unlike you. Completely so. It is not how I would have expected you to respond. The Brentworth I know would have listened, promised to consider, then gone home and devised his own clever plan that was far cleverer than anything the king and Haversham could ever concoct.” He examined Eric thoughtfully. “So why did you do it the wrong way instead?”

  It was enough of a scold to cause some chagrin. “I was caught unawares, I suppose.”

  “That is also unlike you. Do you want my advice? I dare not give it unless you say you do, because you are acting like a madman on this topic.”

  “I am not acting like a madman.”

  “You are not acting like the man I have known most of my life, that is certain. It is well you did not call for Langford because he would have theories regarding that point that you would not want to hear.” He leaned in. “But you already know that, which is why he was not invited.”

  “You are here instead because you give better advice, and, yes, I do want to hear it.”

  “First, you apologize to the king. A nice letter will do. Otherwise—you will have no more consultations by ministers. No more invisible hand in the deepest of state matters. No support from the government for any bills you particularly favor. He is still the king, and even weak and constrained, he can make his power felt if he chooses. He rarely does because he is lazy, but he can. But of course you know that too.”

  He knew it. Damnation. “I trust you do not expect me, in this letter of apology, to capitulate on the notion of marrying that woman.”

  “If you were acting like the Brentworth I know, I would. You have to marry someone, and why not her if it solves the matter of those lands? You have never expected love in a match, or even wanted it, from what I have seen, so it matters little who you marry.”

  “I’ll be damned before I—”

  Stratton held up a hand, stopping him. “I accept that you refuse the idea, so I am not advising that. However, in your letter, you might assure the king that you will find another way to appease her. Then you only have to find a way that does.”

  Eric paced to a window, drew the drape, and gazed into the dark outside. Appease her? He could probably find ways to do that, much as it would infuriate him to appease a fraud.

  While he stood there, a renewed calm descended. It had been good to call for Stratton. He hadn’t been himself lately, especially where Miss MacCallum was concerned. He had allowed his annoyance to have its way. This really was a simple matter if one addressed it rationally. He had helped devise the most complicated diplomatic responses in times of crises for the realm. Surely a Miss MacCallum could be dispatched with ease.

  “I will say that it is very odd to be the one giving advice,” Stratton said from the divan behind him. “Normally, it is the other way around.”

  “Yet you have been more helpful than you can know.” He watched the streetlights, and noticed that one kept changing position. Not a streetlamp, but a lamp on a carriage. From the way it swung, he assumed it was moving fast.

  “Of course, Langford would say you are only behaving out of character because you found this woman appealing, and are disappointed to discover she is an adversary.”

  “Langford is an ass sometimes.” The lamp kept coming, growing bigger with each instant.

  To his surprise, it stopped in front of his house. A door opened and a man jumped out of the coach.

  Two minutes later, the library door opened and Langford barged in without announcement or ceremony. He stopped short on seeing Stratton, but then strode right up to Eric.

  “I came as soon as I could in order to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “It is out. Everywhere, I assume. It was being discussed at the dinner party. I had Amanda feign illness so we could leave. I came here after I brought her home.”

  “What is out?”

  “You. Miss MacCallum. Her claim on that land. It will be everywhere by morning is my guess.” Having done his duty, Langford looked around. “What are you doing here, Stratton?”

  “Visiting.”

  Langford took that in the stride he made toward the decanters. “Well, just as well you are here. There is plotting to be done.”

  “I do not need your help plotting,” Eric said.

  “Of course you do.” Langford came back, glass in hand. He threw himself into a chair. “You will have to find some way to buy her off if you don’t want to be the subject of gossip and prying for the next half year.”

  Gossip. Prying. He could live with the former. He definitely did not want the latter, especially about those lands.

  “Do you want my advice?” Langford asked.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” Stratton said.

  Langford stretched out his legs and sipped some whiskey. “The way I see it, you want the lady pliable and open to compromise. As an enemy, she never will be. She will be on her guard, and suspicious that you seek to press an advantage. Which will give her the advantage instead.”

  “Do you always talk so much when you plot?” Eric asked.

  Langford ignored him. “So how to make her a friend instead of an enemy? I ask you, Stratton, how did you do that with Clara?” His blue eyes twinkled as if stars had entered them. “Don’t be shy. Tell Brentworth here how it is done.”

  Stratton looked at Eric. “He has a point.”

  “When it comes to women, I usually do,” Langford said with supreme contentment. “That is what you need to do, Brentworth. Befriend her. Charm her. Kiss her. Hell, seduce her if n
ecessary. Otherwise, the most discreet duke in the world will have everyone nosing into his business until hell freezes.”

  Chapter Seven

  Two days later, his letter to the king composed and sent, Eric presented himself again at Hume’s house. No rows, he told himself as he faced the door. Even if the woman irritated him, even if she provoked him, no arguments.

  Once more, the housekeeper put him in the little library. Once more, Angus Hume joined him first.

  He had sworn no rows with Miss MacCallum. Hume was another matter.

  “We are honored again,” Hume said.

  “I waited until two o’clock so I would not pull her away from her duties this time.”

  “How gracious of you. Still, I expect there will be some time before she joins us. Women and their vanities and all that.”

  “She does not strike me as vain. However, your point is well taken.” He turned to the bookcase and pretended to browse the bindings. “Can I thank you for letting it about that she has business with me?”

  “Rather more significant than business, don’t you think?”

  “My question stands, no matter what word we use.”

  Silence behind him. Then a burst of energy came across the chamber like a wave. “The king was not doing as he promised. Now, with society aware, he will be forced to.”

  “You have complicated matters more than was wise. For one thing, the king was not the problem. I was. And I made no promises, so I have no obligations.”

  “He could make you relinquish—”

  “I am Brentworth, and he would never dare it.” He turned to face Hume. “What is your interest in this?”

  “She is in my house and is my responsibility.”

  How noble he made it sound. The scoundrel saw gain in helping her, of one kind or another. “Does she know what you have done? How you have made her the object of whispers and gossip? That many will call her a fraud and charlatan fit only for prison?”

  “That will pass. Then she will regain those lands and everyone will know how it came to be that her family lost them and why,” Hume said with a snarl. “Scotland will cheer when she bests you.”

  “It will be a very small victory.”