“After King John died and Henry came to the throne, the Duke of Monsale shifted the family allegiances to him.”
Adan screwed up his face. “Yes, but not until after the Battle of Sandwich in August of twelve seventeen. Before that time, your forebear was still on the side of the French who were seeking to take the English crown. After the French lost the battle, the McNeal’s changed sides. But the duke was made to swear a public oath of fealty to King Henry.”
Monsale quickly having lost interest, gave a half shrug. What did an ancient skirmish some six hundred years ago have to do with him? Or his current issues with the Prince of Wales.
Adan took a deep breath. “From what I have discovered that oath must be sworn again every hundred years. If it is not, then all the Monsale titles and lands will be declared forfeit and handed over to the crown. Before the end of August, your grace, must kneel before the prince and reaffirm your family loyalty.”
“Bloody hell,” muttered Harry.
“You had better get your oath swearing up to scratch,” said George. Stephen’s stomach rumbled its agreement.
Monsale gave a small glance at his friends, then refocused on Adan. From the dour expression on the man’s face, there was obviously more to come.
“What else?”
“You and your wife must swear the oath.”
“I don’t have a wife.”
Adan nodded. “And therein lies the problem. You have until the twenty-fourth of August to find a bride. Unless you and your wife kneel before the Prince of Wales on that day, reaffirm the McNeal family loyalty to the crown, you will lose it all.”
Monsale let out a huff as he pushed off from the desk. Little wonder the prince was being so solicitous toward him. The two-faced regent was just biding his time before he came and gleefully demanded that Monsale hand over the keys to his life.
But how is it that I had never known about this? I’ve not heard a soul mention anything about an oath.
“So, what you are telling me is that Prinny has somehow managed to discover this long-forgotten snippet of history and plans to use it to further his own interests?” replied Monsale.
He could just imagine the prince wringing his hands with unrestrained glee at the prospect of getting hold of the wealth of the Dukes of Monsale. It would certainly solve a lot of his well-known financial problems.
“Yes, apparently he has a whole team of people searching back through historical records looking for ways and means for him to seize ancient noble wealth. You are not the only one he has in his gun sights.”
Harry rose slowly from his seat on the sofa and crossed the floor. The worried look on his friend’s face did nothing to ease Monsale’s concerns. It was a rare thing to see Lord Harry Steele in anything besides a jovial mood.
He stopped a foot or so away. When George did the exact same thing and came to stand alongside Harry, Monsale held his breath.
I’m the one for staring people down. For making uncomfortable offers. Not them.
“Go on say it.”
“Monsale. You have exactly two weeks before you and your wife have to kneel before the Prince of Wales and swear your allegiance to the crown,” said George.
Harry nodded. “Or to put it more succinctly. Woo. Wife. Wedding. Wales.”
He flinched at the remark. Marriage had suddenly gone from a long way down on his list of priorities all the way to the top.
The London season had recently ended. This year’s pick of the debutantes and diamonds of the first water had already been snapped up. Eligible, obedient young women coming from the right sort of blue bloodlines would be thin on the ground.
But you don’t want a biddable wife.
He hadn’t put a lot of thought into the sort of woman who make a good life partner, but he knew what he didn’t want. Sweet society girls had never stirred his loins. Which left one clear candidate.
How do I get her to marry me without handing her my manhood on a platter?
He would gladly give Prinny his last farthing before he would beg the only woman who had ever captured his interest to marry him. There had to be another way. For her to offer herself up gladly— nay, eagerly to be his wife.
“There is of course one lady who would be perfect for the role,” said George.
Monsale held up his hand. “Please don’t offer any suggestions. Thank you, gentlemen. I can as always rely on my friends for honest advice. But I think I need to engage the services of someone with a different set of skills in order to forge a safe path through the dark wood ahead.”
