Page 92 of One Night with a Prince
“What do I care about that? Nothing they say could be any worse than what’s been said of me before.”
“Yes, but you have a measure of success and respectability now. Will your mother, who takes such pride in how far you’ve come, enjoy watching you be vilified in the press?”
That gave him pause. “She’ll understand,” he said through gritted teeth. “She’ll cheer me.”
“Will she? All the nasty things they said about her will be amplified tenfold. The press will surely find her, too.”
“At least she’d finally get justice.”
A look of sheer desperation swept over her face. “And what about me? And my father?”
“What do you mean?” he said hoarsely.
“I told you before—if the letters are published, Papa could lose his commission. And if he’s arrested for treason—”
“He wouldn’t be arrested, damn it. Even the Whigs who despise Prinny wouldn’t attack a war hero for loyalty to the crown.”
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“Interfering with the line of succession is a treasonous offense, punishable by hanging.” She swallowed.
“You don’t think Prinny would pursue that? And succeed? He might lose his chance to be king, but he’d still be a prince with influence. Papa had been instructed to burn the letters, but he didn’t. So His Highness would have him punished one way or another.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And me, for telling Philip about them in the first place.”
Gavin ruthlessly ignored the instant punch to his gut that her words delivered. “He couldn’t touchyou, my darling. I wouldn’t let him.” He leaned forward to seize her hands. They were so cold they were like icy fingers of fear squeezing his heart. “As for your father, I wouldn’t let anything happen to him, I swear it. I’m not without influence myself. Between me and my brothers—”
“Brothers?”
Damn. He hadn’t meant to reveal that.
“I know about Lord Draker but—” She broke off, awareness dawning in her face. “Lord Iversley is one of the prince’s by-blows, too, isn’t he? I did wonder at the closeness between the three of you.”
“Yes, and Iversley is an earl, which counts for something. Between the three of us, we can protect your father, and I know I can protect you. I have plenty enough wealth to take care of youand your father. I can’t believe the general would lose his commission, after all his service to his country, but if he did, he could live on my estate. As could you.”
She dropped her gaze from his. “I’m sure Papa would be delighted to live with his daughter and her lover.”
“And if I were your husband? What then?”
He hadn’t meant to say the words, but now that he had, he let them stand. Christabel as his wife. The possibility that he’d sneered at only a couple of weeks ago, had come to seem like a dream. If they married, none of this could touch them—they’d have each other. And then who cared what anyone said? Her face was shadowed with disappointment, and her hands trembled in his. “You are so desperate for those letters that you would make this patently spurious offer?”
“No!” He refused to release her hands when she tried to draw them from his. “It’s not a spurious offer, and it’s certainly not intended to get me the letters. Why not marry me? We could make a good marriage, you and I.”
She lifted a haunted gaze to him. “You and I and your current mistress.”
“No.” He dragged in a weighted breath, hardly able to believe what he was about to say. “I’d be faithful to you.” When she looked skeptical, he added fiercely, “I’d be faithful, I swear it.”
“And to gain this position as your wife, I need only stand by and watch as you betray my country, sentence my father to a life of condemnation—”
“It has nothing to do with us!” he cried.
“It haseverything to do with us,” she hissed. “If you steal those letters to publish them, then you are not aGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlman I can marry.”
His eyes narrowed. “You would take the side of that selfish arse—”
“It’s not for him, blast it!” Frustration wracked her face. “Forget, for a moment, what this would mean for His Highness and the country. Forget what it would mean for me and Papa. Consider what it would mean for Cameron.”
He jerked his hands free of hers. “Who the bloody hell is Cameron?”
“Mrs. Fitzherbert’s son. The one those letters concern. He’s spent years believing that an army captain and his wife are his parents. They’ve treated him kindly, given him a loving home. And now you wish to destroy that—”
