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The oppression lifted so quickly she well nigh fell over.
“How dare you, Georgie.” The duke raised her up and took her hands, rubbed them, and she thought he may have growled, surprisingly not an offensive sound.
“It is my place to dare.” The man who stood before them was not the fribble of the scandal sheets who spent the contents of the exchequer on ostentatious ensembles and myriad inamorata. The man who stood before them was not the sullen son of a king who would not pass on his crown in good time. The man who stood before them was not merely a man. “It is my place to secure the future of my subjects but, more importantly, of my family.” He bowed to Beatrice as if he had not nearly suffocated her with his uncanny might. He turned back to the duke. “It is my duty to ensure you secure yours. It is time our generation take the reins. Alfred has done so, and now we follow suit.”
“I will not challenge Hallbjorn.” This name was not known to her, and it sounded quite foreign. Were they everywhere, these animal-people?
“I say it will not be required. He did not mate, he had no Second, the way is clear, and you will take it.” A flash of that strange potency surged, and Beatrice could not help herself; she shuddered.
His Highness nodded, satisfied. “And the lady is not so safe as she would think. The fortune hunters you keep at bay, ma’am, merely take their lumps and in turn petition me, certain I will look upon one of them with favor and discharge you accordingly in a fit of boredom or caprice. I have only to say the word and make it so.”
“We agreed,” she began.
“We did, we did.” He canted his head and regarded her from beneath lowered lids. “You have betrayed yourself by a knowing glance and, yes, a change in your scent one too many times. Our kind know you know our secret, and many of the old guard would see this problem solved in the time-honored way. Do you wish to die, ma’am?”
“I do not.” Beatrice had survived Castleton, and she would survive this.
“There we have it.” His Highness smiled, as icy an example as she had in her own arsenal. “Do you wish the lady to die, Arthur? For there is no other way to guarantee her safety.”
The duke seethed but showed no sign of transforming into a wild animal. He glared at the prince for oceans of time, for a glacial age until he shook his head once, furious and curt.
Beatrice cleared her throat. “I insist that my fortune remain in my own keeping.” Let it never be said she was backward in going forward.
“I do not want your money,” the duke snapped.
Beatrice bestowed upon him her own class of frosty smile. “That is convenient, as you shall not have it.”
“He will require it.” His Highness fiddled with an elaborate cuff and sounded bored once more. “And he will return its value in kind.”
“Obfuscation does not suit you, Georgie,” the duke sneered.
“Oh, it does, Artie, it does.” The royal footmen filed back into the room from various doors. “You will marry tomorrow, directly following Lowell’s vows. What a lark! We shall make it a day of ducal nuptials in Carlton House.”
“What a lark,” the duke spat.
“We shall welcome you at the appointed time, ma’am, or shall I be presumptuous and say ‘Your Grace’?” George gave her an affable nod. “My man Todd will organize both your departures and accompany you to your new residence, where he will remain and make himself useful. The Humphries family home, as you will soon see, wants freshening.”
“It cannot be in any fit state to bring a wife,” the duke said. “I have no fortune at my disposal—”
“You do, and you know how to draw upon it,” the prince began.
“—and I would not force the foulest ruffian from the Seven Dials to bide there, much less a fine society lady.”
“I choose a leaky roof over certain death,” Beatrice said.
“This is no choice!” He flung his arms about rather dramatically for a person of his stature. “This is manipulation at its basest! How dare you, Georgie?”
“If not I, then who?” Beatrice felt a shadow of sympathy for the lengths the Regent had gone to enforce his will on this man. The duke’s stubbornness was unlike any she had ever encountered.
“Your Grace,” she began. Even to her ears, her voice was flat as freshly ironed chintz. “If nothing else, let us unite in our mutual misfortune and inability to cross one of such great rank. Let us negotiate terms for ourselves.”
The duke stared at her, aghast. He scowled at the prince once more for good measure and then paused to bow to her before stalking off, slamming the door behind him.
“There. Not so much of a brute as to take his leave without manners.” The prince crooked an elbow. “Shall we?”
“Oh, Your Highness, I am not equal to your magnificence.” She curtsied again and held it, held it, held it, until she heard the huff of an incredulous laugh and the footsteps of her regent stride away and out the door.
Four
