Seducing a Queen

By: Itachi Black

Chapter 1

WHEN Jack Overland, the Crown Prince, returned to Bern after a five-year absence, he did not go immediately to Ashire House on Cranston Square, but instead took up a reluctant residence on Grushvine Street with his mother, Duchess Starling. Sir Graham, her second husband and his step-father, was evidently not delighted to see him as the he wore a creasing frown on his aging face, but he was rather fond of his wife so he did not turn his step-son away from the steps of his large house.

Ashire House was where Jack must go sooner rather than later, though. To his own shock, his funds had been cut off abruptly, without warning and without explanation, at just a time when he was preparing to return home at last- home being Willock Castle in Dunstram, the house and estate where he had grown up since birth and that had provided him with a comfortable income since his father's death twenty years ago.

And he was not planning to go there alone. The Barries, who had been fondly in his employ for the last five years in various capacities, were going with him- the position of Head Gardner had fallen vacant and it was Sir Barry to fill the empty post. Most important of all, four-years-old Charles was going there too. The boy was to be known at Willock as the Barries' orphaned grandson. Charles had been wildly thrilled after he was told that he would be living henceforward at the place about which Jack had told him countless exciting stories- Jack's memories of his boyhood there were almost exclusively happy ones.

But then, suddenly, all his plans had gone awry, and he had been forced to part with the child to the Barries in Ludington while he dashed off to Bern as quickly as he could, in the hope of averting the disaster.

His only warning had come in a formal note written in the bold hand of his grandfather's, His Majesty Richard III, secretary, though his grandfather's signature was messily scrawled at the foot of the page, unmistakable despite the fact that it had grown shaky and spidery with age. At the same time the steward at Willock Castle had grown abruptly and ominously silent.

They had all known where to write him, much of the need for secrecy having been lifted with Angelica's death. Jack had felt more than obliged to inform a number of people about that unhappy event.

It made little sense to him that his own grandfather would decide to cut him off just when a measure of respectability had been slowly restored back into his life. It made even less sense when Jack considered the fact as the only grandson and direct descendant of King Richard III, as the Crown Prince, he was the King's heir. By his lineage and birthright, that was clear.

But sense or nonsense, he was cut off, turned loose to the open and absolutely penniless, with no means of supporting those who were dependent upon him- or himself for the matter. Not that he worried unduly about the Barries. Good servants were always in demand by society. Or about himself. Jack was still young and able-bodied. But he did feverishly worry about Charles. How could he not?

Hence this desperate dash to Bern, which was perhaps the last place on earth he wanted to be- and in the middle of the Season, to boot. It had seemed the only course of action open to him. The letter he had immediately written in response to his grandfather's had been ignored, and already precious time had been lost. Thus he had been forced to come and demand for an explanation in person. Or to ask for it, anyway. One did not simply demand anything of the Royal Highness Richard the Third, who had never been known for the sweetness of his temper.

Unfortunately, his own mother did not have any reassurance to offer. She was not even aware that he had been cut off until he told her so.

"I only wonder," she said when he went to her boudoir the morning after his arrival- or an early afternoon to be more precise as he recalled it was an hour before tea time. And mornings did not figure largely in her favourite times of the day- "that he did not cut you off five years ago, my love, if he was going to do it at all. We all expected that he would then. I was even toying with the idea of going to plead with him not to, but it then struck me that by doing so I would quite possibly goad him into cutting you off even sooner than he planned. Perhaps he forgot until recently that you were still drawing on the rents of Willock. Not so harshly, Patricia- you will pull out every hair on my head and whatever will I do then?"

Her usual maid was vigorously brushing all the tangles out of her hair.

Jack thought about his mother's idea, but his grandfather was not renowned for a poor memory either, especially when money was concerned. Good Heavens, no, his grandfather would never do that.

"Graham says he will not support your excesses for longer than a week at the outside," his mother added, returning her attention to her son as she arranged the flowing folds of her peignoir in order to show her figure to the best advantage. "He told me so last evening after you arrived. But I would not worry about that, my love. I can wind Graham about my little finger whenever I choose."

"You need not to do it on my account, Mama," Jack assured her with a meek smile. "I will not be staying here for long, only until I have spoken with Grandpapa settled something with him. He cannot intend to leave me quite out in the cold, can he?"

But deep inside, he very much feared that it could indeed happen- that it already had, in fact. And it seemed that his mother agreed with him.

"I would not wager more than ten batzens or so against it," she said, reaching for the rouge pot. "Although he is the king, he is a stubborn, crotchety old man and I am more than delighted that he is no longer my father-in-law and I do not have to pretend to dote upon him. Do hand me that rouge brush, if you please, my love. No, not that one- the other. Patricia, have I not told you repeatedly set my things down so that they are within my reach while you are busy with my hair? You must be that my arms are long enough to reach my ankles. How peculiar that would be."

Jack quickly left the room after handing his mother the correct rouge brush. He could not decide between turning up unannounced at the royal palace on the one hand and writing a request an audience on the other- for that was what a familial visit to his grandfather amounted to. If he went in person, he would undoubtedly have to suffer the ignominy of being turned away by his grandfather's Friday-faced butler- if Fredrick still held the post, that was. He must be nearly ancient as his master. If he wrote, on the other hand, his letter might yellow with age before his grandfather's secretary deigned to give it any attention.

The prince mused. The pot of the kettle. The devil or the deep blue sea. Which was it to be?

And there was a degree of urgency to the situation that threatened to throw Jack into a panic. He had settled the Barries and Charles in a couple of cramped rooms in a small house located far back in Ludington which he paid for one month's rent. There was simply not enough money for another month. Yet one week of this one was gone already.

Even so, he procrastinated instead of making a decision and spent one whole day reacquainting himself with Bern- and Bern with him. Much as one set of instincts warned him to lie low, to avoid being seen if he possibly could, another part of him argued that since he could not avoid the company of his peers for all of the rest of his life without being a poor hermit, he might as well sally forth now with all the nonchalance he could muster.

He went to White's Club, where he still held a membership and where he did not find the doors barred against him. He met a number of former friends and acquaintances there, none of whom dared to give him the cut direct. On the contrary, a number of them hailed him with a jovial familiarity, as if he had been seen by everyone just last year or even last week and had never in his life dashed away from the public eye and from the nation itself under a huge cloud of scandal. And if a few gentlemen chose to ignore him, well, there was nothing unusual about that after what had occurred. One did not hail everyone one met, after all, at White's or anywhere else. Thankfully, nobody made a scene and demanded of his sudden appearance nor demanded that he be removed from the hallowed sanctum of the club.

Jack allowed himself to be borne off to Tattersall's with a group of equestrian enthusiasts to look over the horses, and then on to the competitive races. He even acquired some modest winnings at the latter by the end of the afternoon, though they were far too modest to make any significant alteration to his current financial circumstances. By evening, he went to a card party, where he lost the afternoon's windfall before winning more than half of it back again.

He packaged up the money before going to bed d dispatched it in the next morning to Ludington. By now Charles was bound to have put his heel through a stocking or his knee through his breeches or his little toe through his shiny black shoes or…. Well, the possibilities were endless. Bringing up a child was a decidedly expensive undertaking.

On the second day the ticklish decision of how best to approach his royal grandfather was yanked out his hands. There was a tiny note beside his plate at the breakfast table which had hot, freshly baked scone and a modest amount of eggs and sausages. In all normality, the note was written in the all-too-familiar hand of the secretary. It was a summons to present himself before High Highness Richard III at one o'clock precisely. The old king did not go out much these days, according to Jack's mother, but obviously he did not miss much what went on beyond his ancient doors. The king was keenly aware that his grandson was back in town. Heck, he had even known where to find him!

And it was most definitely a summons rather than a nice invitation- one o'clock precisely.

Jack dressed with care in a coat of blue superfine that was neat and elegant but not in the first stare of fashion. He had his valet tie his neckcloth in a smart yet simple knot. He also wore a simple fob at his waist and pulled on well-polished Hessian boots over his gray pantaloons, but plain black ones rather than anything more flamboyant. He had no desire to be an eyesore who caught everyone's attention, even if he was the prince. And he certainly did not want to give an impression that he lived extravagantly- which he did not.

"You do understand, Lawrence," he said to his man, "that I will be unable to pay for your service this week and perhaps will not be able to next week either- or the week after. You may wish to look about for another employment and Bern is by far the best place to do it."

Lawrence, who had remained with him through thick and thin for good, solid twelve years- though never before in utter poverty- sniffed in response.

"I understand a great deal, Your Highness," he said, "not having born an imbecile. I will leave when I am good and ready to leave."

Which would not be immediately, Jack gathered- a strong loyalty for which he was silently grateful. He frowned at his image before leaving the room. He did not want to appear obsequious before his grandfather any more than he wished to look expensive, though of course he was desperate. He sighed inwardly, took his hat and cane from Lawrence's waiting hands, and left the room and the house.

Fredrick was evidently still in post as he took Jack's things when he arrived inside the grand castle, scarcely sparing him a glance as he did so, and invited his lordship to follow him. Jack followed, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips at the butler's stiff back. It was probably a wise thing that he not come yesterday, uninvited. He doubted he would have even gone past the guards at the front metallic gate or even see the old butler doing his job, unless he had been prepared to wrestle himself through the heavily guarded palace.

His Majesty, Richard the Third, was in the drawing room, seated in a high-backed chair he had possessed forever, close to the roaring fire despite the fact that it was a warmish spring day. Heavy, rich velvet curtains were half drawn across the windows to block most of the warm sunlight. The air was thick and heavy with the smell of ointment he used for his rheumatism.

Prince Jack made his polite bow before the king. "Your Majesty," he said, "how do you do? I hope I find you well."

His almighty grandfather, who had never been one to indulge in unnecessary chitchat, did not deign to deliver a health report. Neither did he greet his grandson or express an ounce of happiness at seeing him again after so long. Nor did he demand to know why he had returned when he had fled from the scrutiny five years ago under the darkest cloud of scandal and disgrace. He knew why, of course, as his opening words revealed.

"Give me one good reason," he said, his bushy white eyebrows almost meeting over the bridge of his nose, a sharply defined frown line between his brows the only feature that revealed where on ended and the other began, "just one, Overland, why I should continue to fund your excesses and debaucheries."

The aged man held a silver-headed wooden cane in both gnarled hands and thumped it on the floor between his feet to give a fine emphasis to his displeasure.

There was one perfectly good reason, even apart from fact that really there had not been a great many of either excesses or debaucheries. But his grandfather knew nothing about little Charles and never would, if Jack had any say in the secretive matter. Nor would anyone else.

"Because I am your only grandson, sir?" Jack mildly suggested. And lest that not be a sufficient reason, as doubtless it was not, "And because I plan to live respectably for the rest of my life now that Angelica is dead?"

She had been deceased for four months, to be exact. She had taken a winter chill and just faded away- because, in Jack's opinion, she had lost all of her will to live.

To his own misfortune, his grandfather's deepened, if that were possible and he thumped the cane again loudly. "You dare mention that name in my hearing?" he asked rhetorically. "Mrs. Milford was dead to the world five years ago, Jack Overland, when she chose to commit the unspeakable atrocity of running off with you, leaving her lawful husband behind."

Jack remembered the very day as his fuming grandfather pointed his long cane at him. It had happened on Jack's twenty-fifth birthday- and more to the point, on his wedding day. He had abandoned his young bride, virtually at the altar, and run away with her sister-in-law, her brother's wife. Angelica. The whole thing had been one of the most spectacular scandal in the nation. No. Much more like the entire continent as he, the Prince of Switzerland, dared to disgrace the Princess of Greenland- or the country itself- twice… on the same day. Which in turn caused the biggest scandal for the continent to enjoy upon, the biggest disgrace upon his royal family and lineage and his country, and a large looming discontent between his nation and Greenland. His scandal was considered as one of the most spectacular scandals in years, perhaps in history. At least, he assumed it had. He had not been here to experience it in person.

He said nothing since this was hardly the suitable time or the place for a long, heart-felt discussion on the meaning of the word: atrocity.

"I ought to have turned you out then without a penny," his grandfather told him. He had not been invited to sit down, Jack noticed. "But I allowed you to continue drawing on the rents and income of Willock Castle so that you would have the wherewithal to stay far away out of my sight- and out of the sight of all decent, respectable people. But now that the woman is gone, unmourned, and you may go to the devil for all I care. However, you promised solemnly on my seventieth birthday that you would marry by your thirtieth and have a son in your nursery before you thirty-first. You have abandoned Miss Milford at the altar five years ago and you have turned thirty six weeks ago."

The prince gulped and paused for moment. Had he promised something so rash? Of course, he would have been a mere puppy at the time. Was this the possible explanation for the sudden cutting off of his funds? Of his livelihood? That his thirtieth birthday had come and gone and he was still a single man? He had been with Angelica until four months ago, for the love of God. But not married to her, of course. Sir Milford had steadfastly refused to divorce her. His grandfather had expected him to find a bride within the past four months, then, and marry her just to honour a foolish promise he recklessly made many years ago- by a boy who knew nothing of life?

"There is still time to produce an heir before my thirty-first birthday," he pointed out- rather asinine thing to say, as his grandfather's action demonstrated. The old man snorted. It was not a pleasant sound.

"Besides," Jack continued, "I believe you must have misremembered the promise I made, sir. I seem to recall promising to wed before your eightieth birthday."

He maintained a confident façade. His grandfather's eightieth birthday… which was when? Next year? Or the year after?

"Which happens to be sixteen days from now," his grandfather said with brows of white thunder again. "Where is your bride, Prince Overland?"

Sixteen days? Damn it all!

Jack strode across the room to the window in order to delay his answer, even by seconds, and stood looking down on the square, his hands clasped at his back. Could he simply pretend now that is was the eighty-fifth birthday he had named? He could not even remember the promise, for God's sake! And for all he knew, his grandfather might be making all this up just to discomfort himself a valid excuse for cutting off his only grandson from all funds. Willock Castle, though a property belonging to the King of Switzerland, was traditionally granted to the heir as his home and main source of income. Jack, as the future king, had always deemed it as his, by the right of the fact that he was the heir after his own father's death, even though he had not lived there for years. Although he had never taken Angelica there.

"No answer," King Richard III coldly said after a lengthy silence and there was a nasty, notable sneer in his voice. "I produced one son, who died at the age of forty-two when he had no more sense than to engage in a curricle race and try to overtake his opponent on a sharp bend in the road. The fool. And that one son produced one son of his own. You."

That did not much sound like a compliment.

"He did, Your Majesty," Jack agreed. What else was there to say?

"Where did I go wrong?" his grandfather asked irritably and rhetorically. "My younger brother produced five lusty sons before producing any of his daughters, and those five sons in turn produced eleven lusty sons of their own, at least two each. And some of them have produced sons."

Jack understood what his grandfather was implying as it was always a male's duty, especially a male with a royal bloodline to secure a future offspring to carry on his title. Otherwise, it would fall prey to the younger siblings of the eldest son. But instead of sympathizing with his grandfather, he said, "And so, Your Highness, there is no danger of the title falling into abeyance anytime soon, is there? There is no urgent hurry for me to bear a son."

It was the wrong thing to say- though he already presumed that there probably was no right thing.

The wooden cane thumped the floor again. "I daresay the title l pass to Nathan in the not-too-distant future," his grandfather spat, "after my time and yours, which will not last even long as your father's if you continue with the low life you have chosen. And I intend to treat him as my future heir. I will grant him Willock Castle on my eightieth birthday."

This news caused Jack's back to immediately stiffen as if someone had delivered him a physical blow. He closed his eyes briefly. This was the final straw. It was bad enough- nothing short of a disaster in fact- that Willock Castle and its rents were being withheld from him. But to even imagine of Cousin Nathan, of all people, benefiting from his loss… Well, it was a viciously low blow. A devastating blow. A fiendish blow.

"Nathan has a wife and two healthy sons," the king remarked, "As well as a beautiful daughter. Now, there, is a man who knows his duty."

Yes, indeed.

Both Nathan's father and grandfather were dead. His cousin was the next heir after Jack- after he was dead. That man also had a shrewd head on his shoulders. He had married Caroline Milford six weeks after Jack abandoned her on their wedding day, and he apparently got three children out of her, two of them sons. Nathan had taken all the right steps to ingratiate himself with his great-uncle.

Jack openly frowned down at the empty square beyond the clear windows. Though it was not quite empty. A maid was down on her hands and knees dutifully scrubbing the steps of a much smaller castle on the opposite side.

Did Nathan know that Willock Castle, his home, was to all intents and purposes to be his sixteen days' time?

"If I had written down that promise made on your seventieth birthday, my dear grandfather," Jack started, "and if you had kept it, I believe you would discover now that my promise really was to marry by your eightieth birthday rather than my thirtieth, though they both fall in the same year, of course."

His grandfather snorted again- a sound that conveyed utter contempt.

"And what do you plan to do when you leave here in a few minutes' time, Prince Overland?" he asked. "Grab the first female you meet on the street and drag her off in pursuit of a special license?"

Something like that. When one had been brought up to be a well-to-do gentleman, and a prince to a boot, to administer land, to expect to inherit an illustrious title and fabulous wealth one day, one as not educate or even trained to do any form of gainful employment. Not any of that would give him sufficient income to support dependents, including child, as well as keep his own body and soul together, anyway.

"Not at all." Jack turned to look steadily at his displeased grandfather. "I have a bride picked out, Your Majesty. We are already unofficially betrothed, in fact, even though there had been no public announcement as of yet."

"Indeed?" There was a world of spite and scorn in the one word. His grandfather raised his eyebrows and looked very incredulous- as well as he might. "And who is this lady, pray?"

"She has sworn me to secrecy," Jack replied, "until she is ready for the formal announcement to be made."

"Ha! Convenient indeed!" his grandfather loudly exclaimed, his brows snapping together again and pointing his pointy cane towards him. "It is a barefaced lie, Jack Overland, just like everything in your pathetic, miserable life. There is no such person, no such betrothal, no such impending marriage. Throw yourself out of my sight."

Jack straightened his back and stared back at his grandfather with steely eyes. "But if there is?" He asked him, firmly standing his ground though he had the feeling he might as well standing on quicksand. "What if there is such a lady, Your Majesty, and she has agreed to marry me on the assumption that I have the security to offer her, that we will live at Willock Castle and finance our marriage and our family on its rents and income?"

The king looked bemused as he glared at him with no diminution of either anger or scorn.

"If there is such a lady," he said, almost spitting out the words, "and if she is undisputedly an eligible bride for the Prince of Switzerland and future King of Switzerland, and if you present her to me here before the papers announce your betrothal, and if you marry her no later than one day before my eightieth birthday, then Willock Castle will be yours again on that day. And that is a formidable number of ifs, Jack Overland. If you fail in any of them, as I have no doubt you will, then Willock Castle will be given to your cousin my birthday."

The prince politely inclined his head before the great King of Switzerland.

"I believe," his grandfather said, "Nathan and his lady may safely continue packing up their belongings ready for the move."

Continue? Nathan did know, then?

Jack smirked and said, "They would be well advised not to, Your Majesty."

"I will not invite you to stay for refreshments," his grandfather stiffly said, his cold blue eyes raking over his grandson with great contempt. "You are going to need every hour of the next fifteen days in which to find a bride- a respectable bride- and persuade her to marry you."

Jack made him another bow before saying, "I shall explain the necessity for haste to my betrothed without further delay, then."

Then he heard his grandfather snort one more time as he let himself out of the room and proceed down the stairs to retrieve his hat and cane. This was one devil of a nasty coil.

The prince walked himself out of the stuffy palace and looked at the murky clouds. How the deuce was he to find a bride and marry her all within fifteen days? And a respectable lady of good ton, no less. She would need to have a clean family background and a strong blood lineage to win over his grandfather, who also happened to be the great king of the country. Otherwise, there was no chance that his grandfather would accept the lady into the royal family. Heck, he wanted his only grandson to be booted out for the disgrace he submerged his family with his scandal five years ago.

This would be definitely a challenge as no respectable lady would touch him with a twenty-foot oar- even if he was a prince- not once she knew his infamous story, anyway. And soon enough the t that he was back would spread all over Bern- even if it had not already done so.

Besides all of which he had no wish whatsoever to marry. He had only recently been freed from a lengthy connection that he found tediously tiresome, to say the least- though poor Angelica had not gone unmourned. He wanted to enjoy his newfound freedom alone, at least for a few years. Besides, and far more important, there was a purely practical reason why a wife would be a severe encumbrance. No respectable lady would tolerate the presence of an illegitimate child in her household- or even a strong attachment between her husband and his gardener's presumably legitimate grandson. And how on earth would he ever be able to mask that close attachment?

It was unthinkable.

Furthermore, Charles, however well he had been coached, would not remember all the time to call him sir or Your Highness instead of Papa.

Damn it all!

But marry he must. He needed Willock Castle. He needed his home and his roots. It was true, of course, that eventually he would inherit all his grandfather's properties, including the nation, and vast fortune, including Willock Castle, which was entailed and could not be given as an outright gift with a ribbon to his cousin Nathan or anyone else for the matter. Even his grandfather could do nothing to prevent any of that happening beyond outliving him. But the trouble was, Jack could not afford to wait for his grandfather's demise, which might be many years in the far future. Besides, he could not under any circumstances wish for the old man's death. Far from it.

But he needed Willock now.

Then he had a sudden image of his cousin as the crowned king and the proud owner of the estate with Caroline Milford as its lady. And their little children roaring throughout the house and romping in its grand park and gardens instead of Charles. It was a very painful image that stung his heart immensely. Willock was his home.

Marriage really was the only option open to him, then. But he truly lacked the time to select a bride with any care to make sure that he had picked someone who would not drive him to distraction within a fortnight- or, to be fair, someone he would not drive to distraction. There was only time to grab whomever he could find. If there was time even for that. He could hardly walk up to the first lady he saw at the first ball he attended and ask her to marry him within a few days' time. Could he? And even if he did and if for some strangely peculiar reason she said yes, he would still have her family to persuade.

Jack groaned. It simply could not be done. Except that failure was not a valid option.

She would have to someone very young and biddable. Someone whose parents would be only too grateful and content to bag the future king as their son-in- law despite of his wicked past. The scandalous reputation be damned to the fiery pits of hell. Some cit's daughter, actually no, she would not be acceptable to his grandfather. Perhaps some impoverished gentleman's daughter, then. Someone plain faced with a plain figure.

Jack felt himself break out in a cold sweat as he stepped out onto the square. Or someone…

Of course, it was spring, was it not? The time of the Season in the hectic city of Bern? The time of the great marriage mart, when ladies came to town with the express purpose find themselves a husband? And notoriety aside, he was a crown prince, even if he wasn't a king yet, it was one of the highest title. Yes, Jack Overland was the heir of the current king and the country itself would become his with other vast fortunes. He just had to find someone to satisfy his grandfather within sixteen days.

His case was not hopeless at all. It was a little desperate, it was true- in actuality, he had fifteen days. But that ought to be sufficient time. It was close to the end of the Season. There l must be a number of girls- and their parents- who were rapidly growing uneasy, even a little desperate, at the absence of a suitor.

As he strode out of the square, Jack found himself feeling grimly optimistic. He would hold his grandfather to his promise and regain Willock Castle. He had to. He would somehow have to fit marriage in with his other plans.

The thought brought out the cold sweat again. There must be entertainments galore to choose among. His mother would get him invitation s to any he wished to attend- if he required an invitation. As he remembered it, most ladies were only too eager to entice enough guests to their homes that they could boast the next day of having hosting a squeeze. They were not going to turn away a titled royalty, even if he had run off with a married lady five years ago- on his wedding day to someone else.

A ball would be his best option. He would most definitely attend the next one- this evening, if there happened to be one. He had fifteen days in which to meet, court, betroth himself to, and marry a fine lady of the ton. It was certainly not impossible. It was an interesting challenge, in fact.

He marched off in the direction of Grushvine Street. With any luck his mother would still be home. She would know what events there were to choose among the next few days.

Please, please review! :D Thank you! -Itachi Black