“No.” Lady Hertford remained calm and composed.
“He has not attempted to leverage her position.” This was unusual in a man, particularly one of Darcy’s standing.
“Not once.”
“He has not appealed to me.” That irked him. Darcy ought to have requested an audience, prostrated himself before his prince, and begged to have Elizabeth.
“No, though he petitioned me to request an audience on his behalf.”
That made it slightly better. “But,” the prince said slowly, “he has secured her regard.”
Lady Hertford inclined her head. “Precisely.”
He frowned. “That was never the intention.” Though he had told Elizabeth she would have a say, he had never had any intention of allowing it.
“No,” she agreed. “But it is the outcome.”
He rose again, restless. “If I permit this match, I relinquish leverage.” He would lose control of Miss de Bourgh, and thus lose the greatest bargaining chip he had against his wife.
“You conclude matters,” Lady Hertford corrected. “Cleanly.”
He paused at that.
“Elizabeth’s elevation has already inspired speculation,” she continued. “The longer she remains unattached, the more attention she draws. Rivalries multiply. Ambitions sharpen. At present, she is being contested.”
He grimaced. “I do not care to see her become a prize.” Not unless there was some benefit to him.
“Then remove her from the board,” Lady Hertford suggested.
He turned toward her slowly. “You propose marriage.”
“I suggest it as a resolution.”
He laughed once, sharply. “You are very good at making inevitability sound like choice.”
Lady Hertford smiled faintly. “It is a talent born of necessity.”
The Prince Regent returned to his chair, fingers steepled, his gaze distant now. Darcy. Fitzwilliam Darcy. The man was infuriatingly solid. He had no debts, no scandal, no hunger foradvancement. His fortune was vast and unencumbered and his lineage impeccable. His influence quiet but undeniable.
And worse—he did not need the Crown.
Which meant he would not cling to it.
That independence, once a liability, now seemed…stabilizing. Except…He did need the Crown. He needed the Crown to have his Elizabeth.
“And there is another consideration,” Lady Hertford added softly, interrupting his thoughts.
He looked at her. “Yes?”
“Elizabeth’s marriage to Darcy would permanently sever her return toher.”
The prince’s expression darkened.
Her.
The word settled like a bruise.
Princess Caroline of Brunswick. Unwanted wife. Unmanageable embarrassment. A woman who had turned motherhood into defiance and separation into spectacle. Elizabeth’s continued presence in Charlotte’s life had already been an irritation. If she were married—properly married—to a man of Darcy’s standing, she would be removed not merely from Caroline’s household, but from her influence altogether.
