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So, he really does have feelings for her, thought George. “However, if a happier alternative exists, I shall not be displeased.”
“You will allow it?” Gravina asked. “Given her entitlement, I was concerned you might not grant your blessing, as I am not English.”
George waved his words away. “I’ve already decreed that whomever she marries shall have no claim to the earldom. Her firstborn son shall inherit all. Which brings me to the subject of children,” he added, watching the other man carefully. “She is the sole heir to the earldom. Until her birth, Lord Wilmington was the last of his line. I understand you are a duke in your own country; however, in this, I must put England’s interests first. Lady Wilmington must remain in England and bear a son to inherit the Wilmington title. Upon his birth, I will make him a ward of the Crown, entrusted to his mother’s care, of course—but he will not be allowed to leave these shores. One can assume that Lady Wilmington will want to remain here with her child. I have no wish to rob you of a son, but you must understand that Wilmington was my friend. If at all possible, I must see that his lands are inherited by someone of his line.”
Clearly, the king knew nothing of Mélisande’s true heritage—and Alessandro was certain she would rather it remain so. He would not expose her for his own gain, either. To do so would earn him only her enmity. There must be another way. I simply need time to find it.
For now he had no choice but to accept the terms if he wanted to continue to court her. “I would prefer to take her back to Italy, naturally, but if needs must, then for her sake I will remain in England,” Alessandro finally replied.
George frowned. “You would abandon your responsibilities in your own country?”
He didn’t think I would be willing to make such a sacrifice. “I can manage things from afar. A yearly visit should suffice, as long as my mother is able to oversee the daily running of the estate. She has done
so most admirably for the last twenty years. My father’s duties to the Holy Roman Empire required his absence for extended periods of time. She is quite capable.”
“Understand, Lady Wilmington’s firstborn son will be the next Earl of Wilmington,” warned George. “There will be no reversal of my decision.”
“I shall declare my second son to be the ducal heir,” Alessandro answered. “He will be trained to bear the responsibility alongside my firstborn until he is old enough to assume my title.”
“You are certain?” asked George. “If she bears only one male child, he shall belong to England.”
“According to our laws, a daughter may inherit if there are no male heirs.” His father would have suffered an attack to hear him say such a thing.
The king’s gaze rested on him for a long moment, and then the monarch smiled. It was not a smile that inspired relief.
“Very well, then,” George said. “You have my blessing. Melly will make a fine wife, if you can tame her. My goddaughter is a bit strong willed, but a man couldn’t hope for better.”
The hair rose on Alessandro’s neck. Daughter of the French king, godchild of the English. What capricious star had shone upon Mélisande’s birth?
“She has no idea you’ve come to me with this, does she?” the king suddenly asked, his bright blue eyes gleeful.
“She does not, Your Majesty,” Alessandro answered. “Our engagement has been announced informally among friends, but I felt it best to speak with Your Majesty before any public announcement was made.”
“Very wise,” said the king, arching a brow. “I wish you luck in your wooing. Now, let us discuss the matter of James Stuart,” he continued, clearly ready to move on to other matters.
Alessandro breathed a sigh of relief. The matter of marrying Mélisande was of far more importance to him than his “mission of peace,” truth be told. His presence here was a token gesture only, a demonstration of Rome’s willingness to listen to the Hanoverian’s argument—a willingness that did not actually exist. Rome wholeheartedly supported the Catholic Stuart’s claim, and that wasn’t going to change.
His mother would be livid, but he refused to return to Italy without Mélisande, if indeed he could even convince her to have him.
Though he was anxious to leave the royal presence, Alessandro spent the remainder of the morning playing chess and discussing political matters. Upon at last being dismissed, he barely restrained himself from running to the stables to saddle his own horse. Instead, he waited, as was proper, for his mount to be brought around.
Alessandro practically flew down Rotten Row, riding as fast as possible without actually galloping. It was the fashionable hour, and he was having to circumvent an increasingly annoying amount of traffic clogging the thoroughfare.
He nodded politely at several acquaintances, though he trotted past, avoiding conversations. By the time he managed to reach Mélisande’s house, it was just teatime.
“Your business with His Majesty?” she asked, waiting until the servants had left and the door was closed.
“Completed, and most satisfactorily,” he told her. In his rush he’d become disheveled and windblown, his cravat loose and his hair on end. He ran a hand through it to try and tame the unruly curls, succeeding only in making it worse.
She reached out to smooth it down, and he stilled at her touch. Unbidden, an image formed in his mind’s eye: Mélisande touching the hair of a child, his child, while wearing the same tender smile she wore now. Even as that happy fantasy flicked through his thoughts, his blood ignited with the need to make love to her, to again claim her and reaffirm that she was his and his alone.
Mélisande was close enough to see the darker motes within his cinnamon eyes. His hand rose to cover hers, holding her palm to his cheek for a moment before turning to kiss it. Heat shimmered through her.
“I’ve thought of nothing but you the entire day,” he confessed, pulling her into his arms.
She melted into him as he held her close and nuzzled her neck to taste her skin at the sensitive place just below her ear. Pressing her mouth hungrily against his, she clung to him as his tongue swirled and teased. A moist heat began to build at the juncture of her thighs as he slid a hand beneath the edge of her neckline to ease a still-swollen breast out of her bodice.
Already knowing the pleasure his touch would bring, her flesh anticipated it, craved it.
