Page 11 of Grave Expectations
"I'm not so sure it would be much of a scandal now. The Prince of Wales is well known for his philandering. His relationship with my mother—if it could even be called that—occurred before his marriage, when he was only your age, but that is no excuse to speak of her or her people dishonorably. I was extremely disappointed that night. I'd hoped he'd loved her—or at least cared for her. After hearing him say that, and worse, I knew he hadn't."
"How did the committee members learn about you?"
"I suspect they had spies watching the prince. From the dates in the prophecy, they could be quite certain he would father the ministry's future leader. It was only then a matter of watching the women he consorted with. Being with a gypsy seer would have certainly raised their interest. It fits with the prophecy."
I digested his news as we ate, but by the time it came to return to our rooms, my mind still reeled. Royal blood flowed through Lincoln's veins—and he wanted to marryme.
"If he acknowledged you as his son," I said as we approached our suite, "you would be accepted into the highest, most exclusive circles."
"You know that doesn't interest me."
"But it's your birthright, Lincoln."
"The ministry is my birthright." He opened the sitting room door and followed me inside.
"You would be introduced to powerful people from all over the world. Opportunities would come your way that you could never gain otherwise."
"I want none of those things." He frowned and closed the door. The click sounded loud in the heavy silence. I turned away, but he caught my arm and gently pulled me against him. "Charlie, I know that look. Tell me what's wrong."
"You're a prince, Lincoln."
He grunted. "I am nothing of the sort. The man who fathered me is a prince."
"But it changes everything!"
He stroked my hair back. "It changes nothing. I've known for some time, and decided after the ball, that he's not a man I want to get to know better. Even if he did acknowledge me, it still changes nothing. I will always be the leader of the ministry and you will be my wife."
"But…I'm a gutter rat."
"You aremygutter rat."
I spluttered a watery laugh and lay my head against his chest. He enveloped me in a hug and kissed the top of my head. "You're overwhelmed," he said. "The journey was long and tiring, and we've been busy since our arrival."
"Not to mention I got engaged to the man I fell in love with some months ago."
"I'd like to remind you that we've been engaged since the evening we rescued Buchanan from Bedlam."
"Not to my mind."
I felt him smile into my hair. "We'll slow down, now that everything is settled."
"Does that mean no more training?"
"Your training will continue in the afternoons. The way your saddle was cut worries me, and I want you to be as prepared as possible for whatever may come when we return." His arms tightened. "Finding who cut it will be my priority."
"Ourpriority. You do not work alone."
"You won't be helping if your life is in danger."
I sighed. I'd been expecting that response ever since he'd found the strap on my sidesaddle had been cut in the days before we left London. While the sabotaged strap had been easy to spot, it didn't mean the attacker wouldn't try again. Although Lincoln hadn't mentioned it since, I suspected it had been playing on his mind. Returning to London would see a return of the steely ministry leader who'd all but disappeared since arriving in Paris.
He pulled away first and set me at arm's length. "Goodnight, Charlie."
"Not even a goodnight kiss?"
He considered this for a moment then leaned in and pecked my cheek. "That will have to do."
I sank into a curtsey and lowered my head. "As you wish, your highness."
