Royal Regard

Chapter Thirteen, Part 2

Nick sipped his coffee, listening to the ticking of the long-case clock in the corner, making no claim to knowledge of the king's plans for Bella. He was quite certain there were none to romance her, as he had delicately broached that subject. At least he had thought he was delicate, until Prinny said slyly, "No, Wellbridge, she is witty, of course—always interesting things to say—but far too ugly for me. Since you only bed hideous-looking women, you can have her when Humdrum is finished—if you cannot accomplish the deed before then."

"The regard of royalty is fickle," Nick observed.

"Which brings us neatly to the subject at hand."

"Yes?"

Huntleigh's silence sat like wet toweling between them. Finally, he started, "In not so very long, thanks to His Majesty's beneficence and my own business acumen, I will leave a gentle wife too clever for her own good, with a title that sits uneasy on her, at the mercy of every fortune hunter in Europe. I would be happy to see her future settled before such time as she may need the protection of another man."

Nick nearly spit out his coffee, and managed to slosh a considerable portion onto the knee of his pantaloons. "You are trying to marry off your wife?" Huntleigh passed him a handkerchief, but Nick had already snatched a table napkin from the tea cart.

"In a manner of speaking," Huntleigh said, sitting back into the cushions and adjusting his seat again, tugging pointedly at his immaculate waistcoat, while Nick swabbed at the coffee, hardly able keep his manners.

Nick sopped up the thankfully cooled spill, annoyed to find an additional stain on his new coat. "She will not thank you for that."

"I am aware and intend it anyway. She was saddled with an old man while still a girl, and I find it engenders guilt in me now. The next time she marries, I will do my part to ensure it is for love and will protect her interests as her father should have done."

Nick sat back, sliding his chair away infinitesimally. Knee twitching, he forcefully quelled the urge to tap his heel against the carpet and stopped his fingers drumming against his thumb. Each and every perfect model ship his brother had ever built caught his attention one after the other, dozens to distract him, some in shadow boxes, some in niches; a spectacular three-mast clipper ship sailed under glass on the marble mantelpiece above the columned fireplace.

Huntleigh's eyes grew sharper, and after one quick glimpse, Nick avoided his stare by studying the curios.

"I am old enough to be Bella's father—and old enough to have played cards with yours—so you may consider this a fatherly request to clarify your intentions and define the precepts for your courtship, should you be considering such a pursuit."

Nick coughed and sat forward, shaking his head, not quite sure if his ears were failing him. "You are defining the precepts for my courtship of your wife?"

"I am doing my best. As lovely as my Bella is to me, I know her appearance is not quite the fashion. I find it unlikely many men will display your sort of enthusiasm, unless they are feigning for love of her fortune, which you are not."

Nick repeated, "I'm sure I haven't—"

"You needn't deny your attraction, Sir, nor hers. I am not the only person who has seen it. The king himself has noticed."

Nick felt himself blushing, possibly for the first time in his adult life, so he played for time, forcefully demanding, "If we are to continue in this vein, Huntleigh, I absolutely insist you call me Wellbridge."

Huntleigh nodded. "I also know, Wellbridge, you have no need of her inheritance from me, and can be counted on to manage it for her benefit. I expect it will not be difficult to arrange a proper settlement."