How to Wed a Baron. Кейси Майклс
a man of the world, Justin. You understand the fragility of political alliances.”
“More than I wish to, yes. Alliances and long memories, old feuds. Boundaries that shift position with seemingly every decade and each new war. Where your grandfather had worshipped, what language his great-grandfather had spoken. People seem to fight new wars over six-hundred-year-old arguments all the time, both in your country and here.”
“Then you do understand.”
Justin nodded. If he had learned nothing else during his eight years of exile, years spent making himself as valuable to England as possible, in any way possible, in hopes of being granted a pardon, he’d learned that those in power or in pursuit of power didn’t need a reason for anything they did. If they didn’t have a valid argument, they’d stitch one up out of whole cloth. If no enemy was available, they’d manufacture one. With Bonaparte caged only a year, was somebody already looking for another argument?
“But what does Novak and any of that have to do with Lady Alina, other than supposedly wanting her dead?”
“She is part Romany.”
Justin raised one well-sculpted eyebrow, gave a thought—not his first of the day—to the girl’s astonishing mass of ebony curls…and how they might look unbound, cascading across his pillow. “Really. And what part might that be?”
“The part that matters, at least to the Romany. Her paternal grandmother’s blood flows in her veins. Diluted as it is, what with her foreign mother and half-Austrian father, I’m told she is seen in some quarters to be the rightful owner of land suddenly returned to our country since the war. Even with the edicts of the Congress of Vienna, boundaries are still vague and shifting all over Europe, and arguments abound. There is for us even now some difficulty with France.”
Justin dismissed the subject of border disputes with France as unnecessary information. “I thought the Romany prefer the nomadic life. There are many here in England, at least for much of the year. They prefer to be citizens of the world and not of one country.”
“They prefer, Justin, not being scorned as outlaws and branded and murdered and betrayed. Always betrayed. In any event, there are murmurings of claims to this certain large tract of land, of some ancestral deed. With their own territory, no matter how small, how mountainous and mostly uninhabitable, they could begin to dream of becoming their own city-state within the kingdom. The Romany see such a thing as their refuge, their—”
“Yes, I believe I can take it from here.” Justin held up a hand to stop Luka as more pieces had begun to fall into place for him. “Let me finish for you, if you don’t mind. This expanse of land is now claimed by Inhaber Novak, while this supposed ancestral deed goes back any number of centuries, and then forward again to the sole surviving Romany Valentin, Lady Alina.”
“Exactly, and that land, or rather the ownership of it in the absence of any formal deed, has been disputed for at least those myriad centuries, long before the Congress of Vienna took a carving knife to half of Europe. The king himself took me into his confidence and told me as much. The Romany don’t have queens, per se, and power is traditionally limited to the men in any group, so that I was much surprised to hear what the king had to say. But as the saying goes, any port in a storm. Lady Alina is that port for the local Romany. Without her, the dream ends once and for all time, the possibility of one safe haven for the Romany people in the region. Not that it is more than a nebulous dream in any case.”
Luka sighed. “Lady Alina is inordinately proud of her few drops of Romany blood. She would see herself as their savior, at the very least, were she to know. Truly, it will be easier for everyone if she is never told, and if she is bound to England, never returning to her homeland. I was sworn to secrecy by the king himself, forbidden to tell you this, but it seems only fair you should understand the danger, and take the proper precautions until the king decides what to do with Inhaber Novak, as your lightheartedness earlier causes me some concern. Perhaps, once Lady Alina is married to you, Novak will no longer see her as a threat to him.”
There was a knock at the door and Wigglesworth entered, carrying a plate of bread and cheese. Justin waved a hand over the plate, inviting the major to eat, which gave Justin time to think.
He shook his head at his gullibility; how could he have been so blind? No wonder the Prince Regent had been so willing to allow his insults. The man had his fifty thousand pounds all safely tucked up in his purse, making Justin no longer necessary and, if he were to speak out of turn, potentially embarrassing. A nice, clean assassination of the pesky baron would not come amiss as far as the Prince Regent was concerned, and would rid him of that potential embarrassment. No wonder the man had been so eager to assist King Francis in his request.
It was time for another small chat with the Prince Regent. But first, he’d ask a few more questions of the wonderfully forthcoming major.
“Tell me, if the king knows Novak wants her dead, why didn’t he already do something about it, have Novak arrested? Why bother with this farce of a marriage?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The king is playing for time, and some sort of amicable solution. He doesn’t want to have his hand forced by making a decision on this land, the disputed deed, because either way he decided would gain him enemies. The Romany are an unavoidable nuisance, while Inhaber Novak has many who are loyal to him, and he is a great asset to the court.”
Justin was beginning to see more of the spider-web. He kept his tone conversational, even as he felt the slumbering beast inside him straining at its leash. “A king with many problems, your Francis. If Lady Alina is murdered, he must make a show of investigating her death, because she is his ward and because otherwise the Romany will make things difficult for him. To arrest or kill Novak would bring him trouble from factions loyal to the Inhaber. How much more convenient to have it all play out far away in England. Francis didn’t apply to his ally the Prince Regent for a bridegroom. He applied to him for an assassin, and dear Prinny knew just the man to approach, a man who couldn’t refuse. The moment I wed the fair lady what was hers is mine, and there will be a target painted on my back, so that it will be kill or be killed.”
Luka had the good grace to blush, which probably served to save him, or at least preserve his teeth and jaw so that he could chew his bread and cheese.
Justin pressed him further. “And Lady Alina, she of the ermine-tipped cloak and plans to take London by storm? Does it matter to any of them what happens to her?”
“But you’ll keep her safe.”
“That is not your concern, Major. You concern, and that of our two plotting sovereigns, is better directed at what I will do to you all if Lady Alina so much as stubs her toe before I can find some way out of this damned farce. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I will pay my betrothed a small visit before she turns in for the night.”
Luka leapt to his feet. “You’re not going to tell her anything, are you?”
Justin looked at the major without saying a word until the man had the good sense to subside back into his chair. “Don’t do that again, Major. Question me. And never stand against me unless you’re willing to suffer the consequences. Are we clear?”
The major nodded.
“Oh, how wonderful,” Justin drawled affably, smiling as if nothing had happened, as if there had been no threat of violence. “Now we can cry friends again, understanding each other so much better. Why, I might even be persuaded to convince Wigglesworth to give you a few pointers on how to tie your cravat so it less resembles a noose. Good night, Major.”
Justin walked out of the room in his usual, unhurried stroll, softly closing the door behind him. It was only when he got as far as the narrow hallway leading to the stairs that he pressed his palms against the sides of his neck and pushed hard, forcing his breathing and his heartbeat back into their usual rhythms.
He was angry that he had allowed any of this to happen to him. Unworried that he would not succeed in ridding Alina of any threat from the Inhaber Novak.
But damned if he could understand