“Prince Christian wishes to do his duty as a loyal subject of the Swedish crown. All he needs now is his father’s blessing and guidance as to when he should leave,” said the King.
Christian bowed his head and prayed quietly for divine intervention. Since the day of the accident with Erika, he had put all his efforts into becoming a worthy member of the Lind family, to changing his father’s opinion of him. Everything he had done over the past two years now gathered at this one moment.
“To where?” replied Prince Stefan.
Shoulders set firmly back and with a steady voice, Christian replied, “Father, His Majesty is sending me to England.”
A slow, pleased smile came to Prince Stefan’s lips. “That is a great honor. Christian, I am proud of you. I know you will do everything to make your time in England a success. You have my blessing.”
“Thank you, Pappa. I promise to do my very best.”
After paying King Charles and Prince Stefan his respectful leave-taking, Christian hurried back to where his mother and Gustav stood. As he reached his brother’s side, Gustav gave him a hard look. “What was that all about?” he asked.
Christian met Gustav’s steely gaze, making sure not to show any sign of the excitement which bubbled inside him. “It was a private discussion between His Majesty and myself, but since Pappa has given me his blessing, I suppose I can tell you. I am to be sent to England to help Baron von Rehausen and Count Jansson with some trade negotiations. Apparently, the Russians are looking to get in ahead of us and so I will have to leave soon.”
The anger which flashed across his brother’s face was deeply satisfying. While Gustav was off marshalling troops and deciding on battle strategies, his youngest brother would be heading to London. In a matter of weeks, Christian and Erika would once more be in the same city.
He held back on telling them that his stay in England may be a lengthy one. This was a night of triumph for Christian, not one for starting a row with his older sibling.
“That is wonderful news.” His mother gifted him a kiss on the cheek. The smile on her face was a stark contrast to the hard anger which shone in Gustav’s eyes.
“Yes, congratulations,” ground out Gustav.
“You will be able to see Countess Erika—how delightful. I do so miss her,” said Princess Olga.
Christian barely raised an eyebrow, doing his utmost to appear surprised at the mention of Erika. “Oh yes, I had almost forgotten about her also being in London. Though I am not sure how often I shall see Countess Erika, if at all. I expect I shall be in residence at the envoy’s home, and also very busy.”
The hard set of Gustav’s jaw had him wondering just how long it would be before his brother cornered him.
You may say all that you will, but just remember it is I who will soon be many hundreds of miles away in England, and there is not a damn thing you can do about it.
Christian would dearly love to rub his brother’s nose in it, but his diplomatic skills were stronger than his need to cause annoyance. Gustav had the temper of a Swedish wild boar, and he was not one to be poked at with a stick.
“Well, you must take Magnus and Erika a gift from our family when you leave,” said the princess.
Gustav’s face immediately changed. Christian could almost hear the cogs in his brain turning. “Yes, you should. And a gift from me as well. It would gladden my heart if you could grant me this favor.”
Gladden your heart? It would gladden my heart to tell you to go to the devil, but we both know that there is no chance of me being allowed to say that.
Princess Olga smiled from son to son. Christian nodded. There would be no getting out of granting Gustav his request. “It would be my pleasure to take any gifts from our family to Erika and Magnus. Now if you would please excuse me, I need to go and start making preparations for my departure,” he said.
As he crossed the highly polished parquetry floor, Christian softly whistled to himself. It was all he could do not to break into a happy little dance.
Soon he would be bound for London—and Erika.
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Chapter Six
London 1815
Mid-August
Erika picked up her father’s boots, tossed them under his bed and growled. “Will you ever learn to put your things away, Pappa?”
Count Magnus Jansson had never been one for tidiness. When they had lived in their own palatial home in Stockholm with plenty of servants, it had not been a problem. But in the small house in Duke Street, it most certainly was an issue.
London was a big city. An expensive one. Real estate was at a premium, especially in the streets close to where most foreign embassies and envoys were situated. It had taken some getting used to, living in such cramped quarters and only having a handful of servants, most of whom did not reside in the house.
