Page 79 of A Foreign Crown
“But in Queen Charlotte’s letter, she said you were showing a preference, spending time with her—that perhaps you’d formed an attachment.”
“Wishful thinking, perhaps?” He laughed. “I don’t know why they have such hopes for an alliance.”
“Don’t you?” She held his hand in hers, and seeing her small, soft hands in his larger ones surprised him. She had such strength in those little fingers, such life and experience despite their softness. “Tell me about your lady,” she said.
“She’s lovely.”
“I would expect as much.”
“In every way. I of course noticed her beauty immediately. But Mother, she was clambering on top of her carriage in the rain without a complaint and then greeting the whole of the English court with grace and style. She charmed Prince George, became the Queen’s most trusted confidante, and willingly gave up what she wanted in the service of others.”
“But do you like her?”
His mouth dropped as he turned to her. “Have you not been listening?”
Her laugh made him grin, and she waved a hand in the air. “I was just teasing, my son. Of course I’m listening, and I’m seeing much more than you’ve admitted so far. So who is this woman? Crawling around on top of carriages gives me pause, I will admit.”
“You will not believe when I tell you she is the Duke of Sumter’s daughter, Lady Aribella.”
Her eyes widened. “Why, that is wonderful!”
“It is?” Layton was astounded.
“Oh yes. I can’t wait to tell your father that our families have reconnected. We love them, and the Wilhelms owe them a great debt that dates back to the early days of the duke’s time. He is the best of men, generous and kind. He was of particular aid to our country.”
“I told the English nobility as much. I remember the stories, but I didn’t know what your reaction might be—if you thought of them as a potential alliance, especially compared to England’s royal family.” He tapped his toes. “And so...” He cleared the catch in his throat. “Might she be an acceptable alliance? Could I seek her hand?” He held his breath as a new wonder of possibility filled him.
“We would be delighted. But son, what form of agreement do you have already with Princess Mary?”
A twinge of dread marred his new hope. “None, from me. Their letter to you, and yours and father’s supportive response, might be construed in all manner of ways, but I have given her no reason to believe we have an engagement. She has plenty of expectation that she will hear from me though—expectation she created herself.”
“But expectation, no matter how it was formed, could create a problem between our nations, could it not?”
He tipped his head to the side, considering Prince George and the Queen’s growing isolation. “I suppose it could; things might not be in too terrible a situation, but I do not wish to cause hurt feelings, either.”
“That is noble of you. But nor do you want to marry someone solely to avoid hurt feelings.”
“That’s the truth of it, Mother. I do not wish to do such a thing, and perhaps I was just about to.” He tapped his thumbs against his trousers. “Shall I write a letter?”
“To whom? Lady Aribella or Princess Mary?”
“I was thinking to Prince George.” Feeling sheepish, he shrugged.
“I suppose that is wise. I will admit I was hoping for something more romantic.”
“I shall also send a letter to the Duke of Sumter; how’s that? Romantic enough?”
She sighed, but Layton could tell she was pleased. “That will have to do for now, I suppose.”
He stood.
“Oh! You will send it immediately?”
“Of course. There is no time to spare.”
She stood beside him. “Well, then, let us be off.” As she hurried beside him, she laid a hand on his arm, so he paused at the entrance to the conservatory. “And why is there no time to spare?”
He groaned. “There is a man who will inherit her father’s title, and he is actively seeking her hand.”
