The Princess Dilemma: A Victorian Royal Romance Read online

  Why the widow would waste her time with a twenty-five-year-old ne’er-do-well soldier was beyond him. James did nothing but flirt with her at parties and pay the occasional afternoon call, but Edward had seen money changing hands. Hopefully his youngest brother wasn’t a blackmailer. He’d end up with as bad a reputation as his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, Prince George’s father.

  He stared at a holly hedge, the glossy sheen of the leaves reminding him of his new hat. He would have to encourage Quintin to brush his hat daily to keep its new appearance. As he slid his fingers across the smooth surface of a leaf, he wished he had Spencer’s gift with the cards or James’s with the ladies, so that he could build more funds. He had charm enough, befitting his royal blood, but he did better with men, was too gruff for the ladies. Gambling bored him, which made it difficult to keep the razor’s edge necessary to take advantage of good cards or other player’s bluffs.

  “I don’t often see gentlemen examining the hedges.”

  The soft Germanic voice floated into Edward’s left ear. He turned to see Charlotte. Her yellow poke bonnet hid her hair from view from his angle. He might not have recognized her, had he not remembered her voice. She turned to him and he could see how her hair had been parted and carefully styled around her face. The bonnet itself was trimmed with fresh flowers, giving her an enchanting air of springtime.

  Her dress was not so fine. He could see evidence of inexpert hand sewing at the hem and her yellow shawl had a grayish stain near the fringe on her right. This lady’s face had to be her fortune, not her garb.

  Her perusal of him was similarly intent. He wondered if she could catalogue as many faults with his appearance as he could with hers.

  “Enjoying the fresh air, my lady?” he asked with a nod.

  She tilted her head. “What an odd thing to say. No greeting?”

  He winced. “I do apologize, ma’am. I am a military man, not used to gentle ladies.”

  “I did find your behavior rather extraordinary the other day,” she admitted. “And now I find you here in the garden, and not in uniform. In Germany, men always wear their uniforms or orders. It is strange for me to see you, Colonel, in the clothing of a gentleman.”

  “Extraordinary?”

  “The queen is someone you must flatter to persuade,” she said. “You all but barked orders at her. She’s not likely to see you again.”

  “But she hasn’t even given me, her own half-brother, a single audience. That was a happenstance meeting, as you know.”

  She said nothing.

  “You all but engineered it yourself, given that you could have had my aunt receive me somewhere else. You chose to bring me into that sitting room.”

  “I had no instructions otherwise. But Princess Sophia considers you family, and no one complained.”

  “You must not have listened closely enough,” he told her. “Surely the duchess would have made some cutting remark.”

  She pressed her lips together for a moment before she said, “You and your brothers are all much older than the queen.”

  “Nine years older, in my case,” he agreed. “But that does not protect us from the duchess’s ire. Even so, we’ve been in Canada so long it hardly matters.”

  “Now you are back.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet you are not housed on royal property.”

  He wondered how much she knew, if she’d had him investigated. “I did not plan to stay here. Do you understand what has happened? I thought I was illegitimate, and I admit I do not understand the law in this matter, but I have all of these documents that say my parents’ marriage was valid. I need to have them reviewed. Will not my sister arrange to have this take place?”

  “She has a mind of her own.”

  He suspected Charlotte had an equally strong will. She seemed calm, yet he sensed emotion underneath that she kept checked. “Then help me allow her to change it. I will never be able to live in England without her support and I could be useful to her now. The truth will play out in the end.”

  The edges of the lady’s lips turned up. “What talents do you possess that might make you so useful?”

  “She would find that I am a brother with military experience, an outsider who can be trusted to help her with family intrigue. I am a good reader of character.” He perused her to make his point. “You, madam, are a cool operator. The queen is ruled by her emotions.”

  “Ah, flattery. You learn fast, Colonel.” But she did not smile, as many women might when they recognized it.

  “I did not realize it was flattering for a woman to be termed ‘cool.’”

  “I must be ruled by my head, rather than my heart. At twenty-five, I am the oldest of my siblings.”

  “Are you meant to make your fortune for all of them?” he inquired. “By marrying Prince George or some such?”

  “He’s blind,” she said, trailing her plump, ringless fingers along a holly leaf.

  “I am sure you have more than your beauty with which to sway a man. And Prince George is second in line to the British throne for now.”

  “I think not. When would I be in his company, as he will rule some day in Hanover?”

  If I do not win my case. “Ah, then you have fallen in love with England and hope to stay?”

  “I will do what I must.”

  “Why did you not come sooner? I do not mean it as an insult, but you are not so much younger than I am.”

  She stared at him. “Certain events kept me from this country for years. I had hopes that have been dashed.”

  She had spoken deliberately, as if he should know her story. Damn his lack of knowledge about Victoria’s courtiers. “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “I have done my research in these past few days. Why did your cousin inherit all of the estates that were entailed in your grandfather’s holdings?”

  He shook his head. “I do not know, Charlotte.”

  She flinched when he said her name. Belatedly, he realized he should have used her title. What was her title?

  “How can I persuade you to aid me?” he asked bluntly. “I can see you would be a most useful ally.”

  Her beautiful eyes narrowed. “I shall have to consider if you might be the same. You haven’t much to offer, you know.”

  “I will cultivate allies one way or another.”

  “And take on enemies as a result.”

  “Ma’am, I hope that such an enchanting lady as yourself will never become one of them.”

  She shifted her gaze to the holly. “That sounds like a threat.”

  “Tactics.” He brushed his fingers across the top of the hedge. “I hope you are on my side. I could see how Victoria treasures you, and I understand you are a particular friend of Baroness Lehzen. Tell me, has my sister settled on a husband yet?”

  She chuckled. “You overestimate me.”

  “I do not. This is a women’s household, and women will rule, despite Lord Melbourne’s practiced flattery. You will always know the truth, you and the baroness.”

  “Until she marries.” The lady’s voice had gone soft.

  “Even so, Victoria is not married now. I will help her if she would allow me.”

  The lady shook her head slowly. “I think you will find yourself more of a pawn than a knight in this game. You are coming into it too late, Colonel.”

  “Do not count me out. I am used to leading men. It is in my blood.”

  She exposed her dimple again, though she wasn’t smiling. “But not women.”

  He put his hand on her arm, holding her gently, but firmly, in place. She might have slapped him, or screamed, or twisted away, shouting about the sanctity of her person or some such, but instead, she stood very still. “Help me. With your tutelage I am certain to do better in a second audience.”

  “I will ponder that.” Her voice shook.

  “May I write you?” he asked. Had he frightened her somehow? “With questions? Requests for advice?”

  “I will write you, if I come t
o some favorable conclusion,” she said. “What is your direction?”

  He gave her the address, with assurances of a prompt reply.

  She nodded, memorizing the information, then sucked her plump lower lip between small, very white, teeth. He felt himself twitch in recognition of the sensuality displayed in her gesture, wanted to be the teeth biting that soft flesh.

  “I do have one piece of advice,” she said.

  “Anything, please.” He realized he was still holding her arm and released it.

  “Avoid Sir John Conroy. He may seem on the rise, with a pension and peerage coming, but I assure you these are settlements of old debts at best, and no indication of a further role in Her Majesty’s government.”

  He nodded. He had gathered as much, but it was good to have confirmation. “Thank you for that. I will not count him as an ally. I would not in any case, given that the duchess is my natural enemy.”

  Her tongue darted out to lick the spot of her lip that she had bitten.

  “You are a worrier, Charlotte. I like you all the better for it.”

  She played with the edges of her fringe. “Life has made me such. I am not a carefree girl, any more than the queen is. We are both meant for hard work.”

  He knew what his sister had to do with her life, but what had Charlotte been raised to do? Marry well, like any other woman? “I wish you luck in your endeavors.”

  Her stubborn chin lifted. “I don’t want luck. I want success.”

  He nodded. “Then I wish you success. Good day.” He wanted to walk away, knowing that choosing when to end a conversation marked a person as more powerful, but she was a woman and might not allow it.

  She let him end the conversation, though, and said nothing more as she turned. He watched her step away, saw her neat figure in the mended dress until it vanished down the path toward the palace.

  He must make her his ally, but what coin would she want payment in?

  ~

  Evenings at Kensington Palace were a dull affair, giving Charlotte a maddening amount of time to think about her Edward problem. The young queen, tired after a day of dealing with ministers, often fell silent, though she remained loquacious if Lord Melbourne, her particular favorite despite his advanced age of fifty-eight, dined with them.

  At least the rooms were warm. Charlotte had heard horror stories about the chill of English palaces in winter, with their inadequate fireplaces and damp walls. She felt comfortable in her dinner dress, though it was a remade hand-me-down from her mother’s wardrobe. Really, her clothing was completely unacceptable as court dress, but she could afford nothing better, and Baroness Lehzen had explained this to the queen.

  She had seen her wayward husband twice now. Both times, his clothing had looked new. She wondered if he had the funds to buy her new dresses, but that would mean she’d have to tell him who she was. Her mother had insisted she never reveal her secret, saying that her slapdash Highland wedding was highly irregular and no one would take vows between children seriously. Especially since they had not had the chance to consummate the marriage before they had been discovered. She’d been promptly returned to Scharnburg in disgrace and he’d been sent into the army. They never met again, or even communicated. Her correspondence had been monitored for years, and he’d been sent off to Canada, besides.

  She joined the dinner guests just before eight p.m. and found her place. At dinner, she attempted to ignore the military band playing away in the next room, though the music made it difficult to hear her dinner partners, an elderly, deaf duke on one side, and a visiting Hanoverian dignitary on the other.

  After dinner, the ladies went to the drawing room to leave the gentlemen to their port. Charlotte attempted to reach the queen’s ear, but she was distracted by the Mistress of Robes who wanted her opinion on matters of fashion.

  When the gentlemen returned, everyone had to stand while the queen visited with each guest, exchanging banal remarks. It was only afterward that Charlotte could sit beside the queen at a table with her other ladies while the men wandered about the opposite end of the room and some of the elderly ladies played whist.

  Charlotte saw her chance. “Your Majesty?”

  Victoria turned away from a maid-of-honor, still giggling over a story about the rabbits the girl had left at home when she came into service. “Yes, Charlotte, dear?”

  “I took a walk in the garden today.”

  “The weather was lovely,” the queen said approvingly. “We should have liked to be outside, but Lord Melbourne had so much to discuss with us today it really wasn’t possible.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I did find some surprisingly congenial company.”

  “Oh?” The queen’s gums were exposed as she smiled.

  “Colonel FitzPrince, ma’am. He was examining a holly bush when I encountered him.”

  “We hope he is not afflicted with the farming obsession of the late King George, our grandfather.” The queen shook her head.

  “I do not think he is mad, ma’am, merely thinking.”

  “We cannot have these illegitimates at court, Charlotte. We have asked that the late king’s bastards be banished, even those who lately held positions in the royal palaces. We will not have a dissolute court.”

  “I do not think the colonel thinks of himself in that manner. He seems to want to do what is right and indicated he would offer you any support he could.”

  The queen made a noncommittal noise.

  “Surely you could come to some accommodation. You have been forced to deal with Sir John Conroy. Is this not more of the same unpleasantness?”

  The queen made the same noise.

  “He shares your father’s royal blood,” Charlotte said, more tentatively. She leaned into the queen’s ear. “With your permission, ma’am, your mother would not like it one bit if you settled the situation.”

  The queen’s little lips curled up. “No, she would not. She prefers not to remember my father had a life before her.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The queen sighed. “Very well. Set some date with our secretaries, in the future. It will give us time to consult with Lord Melbourne about what might best be done for the colonel.”

  “And his brothers,” Charlotte added. “There are three of them.”

  The queen lost her smile. “Do not trouble us anymore on this matter, Charlotte dear. We understand the colonel is a most handsome man, so very like Father, and of course you are swayed by such masculine beauty. But do not forget he is not the sort of man your mother expects you to marry.”

  “No, ma’am.” She had heard that for years, ever since she was forced to return to Scharnburg Castle.

  “Now, we think we shall have a song.” The queen nodded to her favorite maid-of-honor and the two made their way to the piano to play a tune.

  Later that night, Charlotte went to the writing table in front of the window, shaking her head. The night sky held only a sliver of the waning moon but a candle burned on the table. She pulled out a piece of notepaper and bent close to see her words as she penned a note to her husband. She would invite him to meet with his sister on Thursday, July thirteenth. Almost two weeks from now, to appease the queen, and on a Thursday, which often meant players would perform. The king would be buried by then so the court might be more merry.

  “Sympathy, not flattery,” she wrote, muttering her words aloud. “She is young and appreciates beauty…”

  ~

  “A manly and flirtatious nature appeals to her best. Find a way to indicate having your case settled is important for the moral health of the realm.” Edward frowned as he read over the letter from Charlotte. While elated that she had fixed an audience, he was nonetheless irritated that it would be nearly two weeks before he could see the queen again. More letters, more excuses, and even more money spent.

  He perused the letter again, seeing no loophole, no invitation to write Charlotte in response. Even so, he penned a note of thanks with assurances that he would arrive as suggested,
mindful of her advice.

  Next to the letter from the lady was another one, from Sir John Conroy, no less. One letter from a fresh and pretty lady with a stubborn chin, the other from an accomplished schemer and ne’er-do-well. Both were skilled in the courtier’s art, but they had ended up on different sides. He could not ally with both. Sir John could no doubt put him in funds, unlike the lady, but would do him no good. Charlotte had the queen’s ear. He had seen it himself with Victoria’s endless endearments. Sir John did not even rate a glance, and now, with the ministers on the queen’s side, he could do nothing to win the queen back.

  Too bad two poor people didn’t make one rich one. What would Charlotte want from him in return for her assistance? She was trained in statecraft. He would owe her something, somewhere down the line. But he, with no money and few connections, had so little to offer. For now.

  “Quintin!” he bellowed.

  A good four minutes later, his servant shuffled in. He was still a little shaky, but mending.

  “What have you been doing?”

  “Cleaning the tea service, Colonel,” Quintin said, unperturbed.

  “One cracked pot and a sugar bowl is not a tea service,” Edward muttered.

  Ignoring the letters spread out on his master’s desk, Quintin dropped a magazine on top of them. The pages were water-stained and bent all around, but Edward brightened when he saw the periodical.

  “Number three of the Pickwick Papers? How did you come by this?”

  “Found it, sir. Been perusing it in the kitchen.”

  “You should not have lied to me about the tea service,” Edward said. “But I shall forgive you. Is this any good? Any more shootings?”

  “More romantical, sir. Mr. Tupman versus that actor fellow. Cricket match.”

  Edward nodded. “I shall look it over at my leisure. I assume you read until the end?”

  “Yes, Colonel.”

  “Didn’t steal it, I hope?”

  “No, found it in a rubbish bin.”

  Edward turned it over and found a suspicious green stain on the back. He brushed at it. “In vegetable peel?”

  Quintin made no response, and his face remained blank.