The Princess Dilemma: A Victorian Royal Romance

by Heather Hiestand

  “The report was not about your fitness for anything, but of the late prince’s plans for your future occupation. While the queen’s fate was set at her birth, yours was not.”

  “I have proof to the contrary, sir. I would like to present it to the Privy Council.”

  “What can you possibly have?”

  Here it was. His moment. “A letter from the late king, George III, approving my father’s marriage to my mother.”

  “Preposterous. It must be a forgery.”

  “Only the College of Arms can say for certain,” Edward pointed out. “I did not know it existed until recently.”

  “What else?”

  “Evidence of my mother’s conversion to Roman Catholicism. It was not until after I was born. My two brothers may not be in line for the throne, but I was not baptized a Roman Catholic.”

  “I am well aware that as your fortune falls, so will theirs.”

  “Not the throne,” Edward said. “May I be allowed to present my documents?”

  The prime minister nodded. “You may take them to the College of Arms in the morning. I will write you a note to take with them.”

  He wanted to pound the table in exaltation, but could do nothing but roll his glass between his fingers to hide the shaking. “Thank you. I would like this resolved quickly, for my sister’s sake, as well as the country’s.”

  “In any event,” Lord Melbourne said. “It seems the late prince did not intend for you to spend your life on foreign shores. However, Her Majesty does not seem to want you in England, much as her, or I should say, your, grandfather did not want the prince too close to home in his youth.”

  “I wish to protect her, and England itself, with my skills. You can understand that, as you hold the same ideals. She is at risk from any number of sources, with a poor choice of heir.” Edward put his fist on the table, but refrained from pounding. “As long as she holds the throne, I should be here to watch over her. I am her elder brother.”

  “Do not think to be her master,” Lord Melbourne said.

  No, that is your desire. “I do not, only her protector.”

  “I would like to believe that. You have been here long enough for reports to have reached us if there was anything less than exemplary in your past.”

  “I assure you there is nothing to find.” Except Princess Charlotte.

  The older man nodded. “We may offer you a post as ambassador.”

  With difficulty, Edward kept his seat. “A what? That is the opposite of what I want. I need to stay here while my case is resolved.”

  “The queen wishes to embrace the freedom her new position offers before finding a husband. I do not think having an older brother about the place suits her.”

  Edward picked up his glass and took a prolonged, deliberate sip of his brandy, relishing the burn.

  “Also, there is some concern about your relationship with Princess Charlotte,” the prime minister continued, lifting those bushy brows as if to invite confidences.

  Edward was not as naïve as Victoria, however. His mouth stayed closed, though he wondered if the prime minister had any idea of the truth.

  “Well,” the prime minister said, after polishing off his own glass of port. “What do you think of a posting to Scharnburg?”

  “Very ironic,” Edward said. “I am not resigning my commission and abandoning my brothers in Canada, for an ambassadorial position to some tiny German state. It’s unthinkable.”

  “Interesting,” said Lord Melbourne, pouring again. “Then we are at an impasse. You know the queen can send you away at any moment.”

  “Surely when you take my refusal to her she will have another suggestion. A better reasoned one. Besides, I know she had you offer Sir John a baronetcy. How can she give that blackguard such a thing and offer her own, upstanding brother nothing but exile?”

  “To get him to leave.”

  “She should not try and make me leave, not until my case is heard. After that, well, if I am proven illegitimate, I hope she will understand I have England’s best interests in mind and will serve her whole-heartedly. With a role at court, perhaps?”

  Lord Melbourne’s pleasant face went sharp and sinister. “You’d be lucky to be a butler. My God, one of King William’s get is a housekeeper.”

  Edward stiffened. “I have proven myself as a leader. Anything less than I’ve been asking is a waste of resources.”

  “You are nothing more than a trumped-up captain,” the prime minister said. “While I agree your service has been exemplary, and I would expect nothing else of a British officer, you have not distinguished yourself in any meaningful way.”

  “My regiment has not been in battle for years. We’ve been on garrison duty. But it must be said that my men are well-trained, well-disciplined.”

  “Watch out for the disciplining,” the man advised. “We all know how discipline ruined your father’s career.”

  “A misunderstanding,” Edward said, his back straightening. “My father was an excellent soldier.”

  The prime minister made a gesture and one of the footmen refilled his glass. “If you accept an ambassadorship, good things may come to you in the future.”

  “More like the queen will find a husband and I will be left to rot in some insignificant country. I know your game, sir.”

  “It is the queen’s game. We all serve at her pleasure.” Lord Melbourne tipped his glass into his mouth and drank the contents, then stood. “We must not keep the ladies waiting.”

  Edward wished he could grab for the man’s shoulders and push him back into his chair and finish the conversation, but he did not really know how much power the prime minister had in this matter. He may not have a brief to negotiate, only to offer the ambassadorship. The man was wily, but he was the queen’s brother and no doubt she wanted all decisions to come from her. Ruining Lady Amy had brought him this far, but was it far enough? Thank God he’d finally obtained his hearing with the prime minister.

  The queen continued to show him small marks of favor throughout the evening. On her first round through the guests, she stuck to the limited topics of weather and riding, but she strolled by him again.

  “Tell me, Colonel, some stories about your regiment. As a soldier’s daughter, I do love military tales.”

  Edward pasted a pleasant smile on his face, and shared a story about a boat race his regiment had participated in early in their stay in Quebec, in May 1832.

  “I am glad to hear your regiment had such a good relationship with the local people,” the queen said, “but what about battles?”

  He launched into a story about battles in Corfu after the Napoleonic Wars, assuming she would have heard more than she ever wanted to about Napoleon’s era in the schoolroom.

  “Fascinating,” the queen said, when he had finished. “But well before your time, Colonel.”

  He inclined his head. “I am a student of our regimental history, ma’am.”

  “Then I cannot imagine you want to leave it. You obviously love the stories, and your men. I can hear the affection in your voice.”

  “I only wish to serve you, ma’am. As you know, the late king had other plans for me, and I am ready to serve you in another capacity.”

  “Then accept what has been offered,” she said, her tone more imperious than Edward had ever heard it. “I trust my Household Guard to keep me safe. You aren’t needed here in London.”

  “Ma’am.” He stared into his sister’s dark eyes, wishing he had the power of mind control.

  She raised her eyebrows, this tiny woman, child-sized really, and not much older than that, with all the power to rule in her plump fists. For now.

  “Lord Melbourne has provided me with a letter to the College of Arms just now. My case is finally going to proceed. I accept that fate might be against me, and you are looking to the future. I only want what is best for England.”

  “What do you really want?” Her slightly protuberant eyes narrowed.

  “Would you offer me
something more substantial than an ambassadorship?” he asked in a low voice, keeping it calm and regular with difficulty. He saw Charlotte, at Victoria’s elbow, wince, but he could not help himself. “After all, Sir John—”

  “You of all people should not wish to be compared to that man,” the queen said. “Good evening, Colonel.” She turned with a sniff and went to her sofa.

  Charlotte stared at him, then blinked as if returning to herself. “Tomorrow,” she mouthed. “The terrace.”

  He nodded and went to the window where the junior officers stared out wistfully at the summer night. Court life stifled people and he could see it was far less amusing than the officers’ mess, if so very much more luxurious. The carpet here along would support him in style for a year or more.

  Why was it, that at a moment of great triumph, when he would finally have his hearing, he had given up hope? The truth was, the longer the situation dragged out, the less likely it was that he could remove Victoria from the throne. He wondered if they would offer to make him her heir if his documents were good. But she was more than a decade younger than he. He’d never see the throne unless she died in childbirth, attempting to have a child who would supersede him. No, he had to be ready with demands, if his case was proven false, as indeed everyone who investigated the situation would want it to be.

  He would likely have such luxury in an ambassador’s home, with an income to match. Starting from nothing like he would be, he would have trouble entertaining as the position demanded. The situation did not meet any of his goals to protect his family, or Charlotte. He would have to leave Canada, which meant no more keeping an eye on his brothers, and having a brother as an ambassador would do little for either of them. No, he needed more. He had to have something that worked for his brothers’ benefit. What could he do for them otherwise? Have them transferred to a regiment serving where the ambassador went? As if they had troops in Scharnburg. No, the idea was laughable, unproductive, and accepting it was nothing more than a short-term compromise. Besides, Charlotte had to stay here.

  ~

  Charlotte drew him into the palace as soon as he arrived on the terrace shortly after eleven a.m. the next day, drawing him upstairs to her sitting room.

  “I didn’t trust that little room anymore,” she confessed, throwing her arms around his waist and putting her head against his shoulder. “Tell me last night wasn’t a disaster, Edward, and I’ll believe it.”

  “I can tell you that there was no message from the queen this morning with an escort to the docks.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and nuzzled the top of her head. “That’s something.”

  She glanced up with the first hint of a smile. “You are right. Did you take your evidence to the College of Arms?”

  “Yes. They accepted it with all the air of being asked to pick up dead spiders. I hope they are too ethical to destroy my papers.”

  “I cannot believe they would, Edward. I’m so glad you are being heard at last.”

  “Will you offer me a reward for all my forbearance?” he teased.

  “Kiss me.” Her lips parted and her eyelashes fluttered down.

  Never had it been so clear to him that she was on his side, that they were in this battle together. He could think of only one more thing to say to her, to cement their bond further. After all, was she not his best support, his only reason to have succeeded this far?

  With all of this flashing through his brain, rather than the more tender thoughts the situation would have best deserved, he said, “Will you be my queen?”

  She had been ready for a kiss, not such words, and her eyes opened wide in shock. His dreamy miss ready to be kissed had vanished. Then, before his eyes, her shock turned into delight. “Are you so certain of your evidence?”

  “No, my love, how can I be? Why would my mother have suppressed it? Who sent it to me? But I have to have my case heard, so I finally know the truth.”

  “My love?” she whispered, as if she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard the words correctly.

  He gathered her close again, bending his knees slightly so their heads met on an even plane. ““I love you, Charlotte. I had to tell you, impertinent though it is under the circumstances. If the case goes against me, you’d be married forever to a penniless bastard.”

  “Oh, Edward.” Her hand moved into his hair and she cradled his head against hers. “You poor, dear man.”

  He wasn’t sure he liked this characterization, but then he was a possible bastard claiming he loved his princess wife. What a pair they were, both importunate schemers in lust with the other’s body. Did he love her in truth? How could he be honest enough with himself to know in these circumstances?

  He repeated the words and she gathered him even closer, until he wasn’t sure how her lungs, or his, could still work. His cock went to full alert at the pressure of her hips against his and his brain suggested that love equaled lovemaking, intercourse, even, but he knew for Charlotte the sentiment would be far purer than the act. On the other hand, she’d allowed him to ride her to completion once, even if only a mockery of the real act had taken place.

  He remembered that phrase of his mother’s again. Our weaknesses are far less interesting than our strengths.

  “Touch me,” Charlotte whispered.

  “Is there time?” He lifted his head to glance around the small room. No sounds came from the corridor outside, but how she would suffer if they were caught here.

  “We will steal it.”

  He knew she was fully immersed in the fantasy of them together. Any conversation about the realities of the situation, any scheming, would have to wait.

  “Charlotte, sweetheart, you take such risks on my behalf.”

  “You have been true so far, and we have not been caught.” Her lips slid along his jaw, nibbled at his neck.

  He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensations. This life belonged to him. The rest tasted like ashes. Slowly, he began to undress her. She never took her mouth from his skin, impeding his progress but making it all the more sensual and inviting. When he had her nude, he pressed her against the wall and sank to his knees. He kissed her navel as he slid his hands up her thighs, parting her legs. Dipping into the notch between, he tasted her sweetness. Her hands gripped his hair, tugging painfully. He welcomed the punishment received for giving her pleasure.

  “I want so much.” Her broken whisper tugged at his heart, but he could do nothing besides grant her this pleasure.

  He focused on his task, suckling her pearl, milking her channel with his fingers, playing with the smooth skin of her buttocks, kneading her, massaging her, loving her, as much as he was able.

  “All for me,” she whispered. “You will be true, I know it.”

  “I will,” he said, lifting his mouth away from her, to see the sight of her beautiful face, damp with passion, above him.

  “Then love me,” she commanded.

  He returned to his task with alacrity.

  When she found her pleasure, her grip on his hair intensified until he had to lift himself slightly to protect his scalp. He kept rising, running his tongue up her abdomen, between her breasts, past her throat, until he found her mouth, leaving his fingers to pet her below. She clung to him, whispering endearments.

  He could not help to hope that she would reciprocate, but in her innocence, it never occurred to her. In the end, he picked up her unresisting body and took her into her bedchamber. They lay next to each other in the hot room. He watched her chest rise and fall, her creamy skin still reddened from his ministrations.

  Eventually, she curled against him.

  “Don’t fall asleep,” he warned.

  “You can leave when I am dreaming. That way I won’t know you’ve left me.” She half-smiled and turned her face into his side.

  “Foolish lass.” He didn’t want to destroy their idyll and remind her of responsibilities. His cock pressed against his clothes, the scent of her sated body keeping him on knife-edge. Had he ever known such wa
nting? He could not imagine it, for there had never been a woman he desired who had not been willing. All of his skill in the amorous arts had been learned because he chose to offer his partners pleasure, not because he’d needed the talent to attract someone. Until now.

  Her breath slowed into sleep. He tilted his head down to look at her. Unlike many, she did not appear childlike in sleep, but serene, a classic beauty with molded cheekbones, a perfect nose, ruby lips. She would be beautiful in old age, this princess. If she ruled a kingdom her coins would become collector’s items for their beauty in later ages, because of her profile alone.

  He wished he dared dress her, for he feared someone walking in and finding her nude. Instead, he slipped away, and pulled a light blanket over her, then went into the other room and sorted out her clothing, placing it on the end of the bed, as if she’d disrobed for a summer’s nap.

  He looked upon the tableau he’d created and was satisfied with his work. After visiting her ewer and basin to wash his face and take a drink of tepid water, he unlocked her door and moved into the corridor, wishing he had a means of locking her door.

  He only spotted a couple of people as he moved back out of the palace. By turning away he ensured no one saw more than the back of him, and he reached the terrace unscathed.

  As he walked through the palace grounds, he composed an imaginary letter to Victoria, pointing out how easy it was for anyone to access the palace, even its most intimate depths, especially if they had inside assistance. She needed to expand her Household Guard and he would happily take command for safety’s sake. If he lost his case.

  With that letter consigned to the fire of his mind, he dictated one to Lord Melbourne, saying much the same thing, only far more pointedly. Did he really want the blind son of an unpopular duke on his throne if Victoria were assassinated? Did he think a youth could be as easily managed as a girl? Not with his feline brand of charm.

  These letters written then discarded, he pondered how to make his point without damning either him or Charlotte. Could he entice the princess to claim she’d seen strangers in the hall? Increased security might make Victoria safer, but it would keep him from meeting Charlotte. That problem they had not solved and it had been a terrible risk to meet on the terrace again. Did the princess want to be caught?