Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)

 

She spun back to me. “I can’t believe you turned down Prince Siegfried. He’s an oldest son, Georgiana. He’ll be a king someday.”

 

“If the family isn’t assassinated first,” I said with a grin.

 

“It is hardly a laughing matter.” Fig sank onto a sofa by the window, picking up a copy of Horse and Hound as if she already found me too boring to bother with. “You could have been a queen—far above the expectations of your lowly rank in royal circles.”

 

“Siegfried was awful, Fig.”

 

“I agree he was a little supercilious and arrogant,” she said. “Not the sort of person one warms to instantly. But don’t forget he has been raised and educated to rule. One expects that kind of behavior from European royals. After all, they still have peasants to rule over, don’t they?”

 

“He prefers other men, Fig,” I said.

 

“Lots of men prefer male company. They find women’s conversation to be tedious.”

 

“I’m not talking about conversation. I’m talking about the bedroom.”

 

She looked up, frowning. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“He’s a fairy. A pansy boy.”

 

Her eyes shot open at this. “Good heavens. Are you sure? I mean, one hears about such things, I suppose, but one never thinks . . .”

 

“He told me that if I married him and produced an heir, he’d never bother me again. He’d turn a blind eye to my lovers and I’d turn a blind eye to his. A charming future, don’t you think?”

 

Fig blinked rapidly. “Well, really. You were quite right to reject him in such circumstances. One does not expect that kind of deviant behavior in royal persons.”

 

“Oh, I think that historically one finds it quite often in royal persons,” I said. “Too much isolation and inbreeding.” I grinned at her shocked face. I was going to mention Prince George but swallowed back the words at the last second. I liked George. He was pleasant and fun. I shouldn’t spread gossip about him, even if I had seen hints of his deviant behavior myself.

 

Fig was now shaking her head fiercely. “No, no. I can’t believe that. Certainly not. Royal persons are raised to do their duty, Georgiana. Which you, even as a minor royal, should remember.”

 

“My cousin David doesn’t seem to be doing his,” I said. “He’s still dallying with a married American lady.”

 

Fig frowned. “He will shape up when the time comes. He’ll have to before his father dies. The country is counting on him.” She looked up and wagged a finger at me. “Which gives me an idea, Georgiana. I think you should stay on in London for the wedding. I’ll have Binky write to Their Majesties and make sure you receive an invitation to all the festivities. There will be a good sampling of foreign princelings and one of them must be good husband material. You must seize the moment, Georgiana. How old are you now—twenty-four? The bloom does start to fade, and I’m sure you don’t want to face life as a lonely spinster nobody really wants in their home.”

 

“Thank you for the confidence in me.” I gave an uneasy laugh. “But don’t worry. I promise not to dump myself upon you as a maiden aunt. And I do have a chap in mind, actually.”

 

“Not that awful O’Mara person. Surely you are no longer pining after him?”

 

“He’s not an O’Mara person. He is the son of an Irish peer and therefore one of us. He will be Lord Kilhenny one day.”

 

“But that family is bankrupt, Georgiana. The father had to sell the castle and the racing stables, so I heard, and your young man has nothing to offer you. And one hears things about his reputation with women too. He’ll be a bounder who breaks your heart, Georgie. You mark my words. Settle on someone steady and reliable, even if they are boring like Binky.”

 

“Darcy may have lived a wild existence before he met me,” I said, “but now he’s working awfully hard so that he can provide for me someday. And I don’t want to marry anyone else. I’m prepared to wait for Darcy, as long as it takes.”

 

“While he is no doubt dallying with other women around the world.” Fig smirked. “You are such an innocent, Georgiana. I’m only having this discussion for your own good.”

 

“I’m sure you are,” I said. “Now if you will excuse me, I’ll go up to my room to make sure that Queenie is putting my clothes away properly. I may still have my old room, I hope?”

 

“There is no one else occupying it at present,” she said.

 

“And then I must go up to the nursery and say hello to my nephew and niece.”

 

“Young Podge is fond of you, you know. He asks after you.”

 

“I’ve missed him. And Adelaide won’t even know me.”

 

“She’s turning into rather a willful child,” Fig said. “Absolutely refuses to come to her mother.”