Not for Sale

"By the way, Duke."

The way he stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray had the air of a man settling into the sort of idle chatter one makes while waiting one's turn at the table.

"The gossipmongers have been making quite a racket of late. I imagine you've found yourself in a rather awkward position, haven't you?"

Of course, it was nothing of the sort.

Several gentlemen who had overheard the remark went ashen and turned to stare at Duke Priestley. He was a man long famous for an unusually fierce devotion to his family. Yet contrary to every expectation in the room, Benjamin's face remained so unbothered it bordered on boredom.

"I shouldn't think it's anything that need trouble Your Highness."

"Of course I don't believe those vulgar rumors."

Edward cut in without hesitation.

"But for people like us, merely becoming the subject of idle talk is damage enough, is it not? Listening to that preposterous story, I find myself quite concerned for the young lady's situation."

"Wilhelmina is fine. That child isn't so fragile as to be cowed by a baseless scandal..."

Just then — crack — Cassian struck his ball. His blue ball ricocheted in a rather unexpected direction and bounced off the cushion.

Benjamin watched it roll weakly back toward the center of the table as he finished his thought.

"And I have no intention of becoming the sort of brother who, rattled by a scandal, palmed his sister off at a bargain price."

It was a pointed reply, but Edward's expression didn't so much as flicker.

"Then I'm glad to hear it."

"Whose turn is next?"

"I'll take it."

Benjamin stepped forward, rubbing blue chalk onto the tip of his cue. Edward relit his cigar, and the moment Benjamin lined up his shot, he spoke.

"But saying you won't let her go cheap — does that mean you'd be willing, provided the price was right? Say, if the Duke's sister were to become a member of the royal family..."

At that very instant, Benjamin's cue shot forward in a clean, merciless line.

Crack!

With a crisp snap of friction, Benjamin's white ball struck Edward's red one dead-on. A dull clunk followed as Edward's red ball vanished into the corner pocket. Benjamin's own ball, infuriatingly, came to a dead stop right in front of it.

"...Your Highness has misunderstood me."

He had just stolen a point from the man he was speaking with, and he sounded as if it were nothing at all. With the most ordinary air in the world, he withdrew his cue and stepped back from the table.

Edward's lined mouth tightened, just slightly.

"I couldn't help overhearing..."

A voice laced with quiet amusement slipped between the two men, who had been drawing invisible blades on each other.

"What a fascinating conversation you're having."

It was Cassian. Leaning against the edge of the billiard table, he was smiling like the Cheshire Cat who had just been treated to a particularly entertaining spectacle.

Edward's brow furrowed faintly.

"I can't quite see, Cassian, where you'd find anything amusing in this..."

"It's the premise of your conversation, you see. You've both been assuming that in the marriage market, the merchandise is necessarily the woman. Rather an outdated prejudice, don't you think?"

"A prejudice?"

"Picking what you want by your own standards and then paying for it — even a child can do that, can't they?"

Edward sighed softly and shook his head.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're driving at, Cassian."

Edward's face twisted openly at what sounded like so much airy nonsense — but Cassian didn't miss it. The way Benjamin's eyes flickered, just for an instant, as he looked at him.

Unaware of any of this, Edward attempted to lecture his younger brother with all due dignity.

"A proper young lady waits for a gentleman's courtship and proposal. In my view, Cassian, what you've just said is hardly a service to Miss Priestley's reputation."

"And I did say that was a stuffy old prejudice, didn't I?"

Cassian shrugged, then tipped his head toward the table.

"It's your shot, brother."

"Ah."

Edward took up his cue belatedly. He studied the layout on the table for a moment, as if calculating trajectories, then carefully lowered himself into position.

Crack!

Edward's red ball shot in a straight line toward Cassian's blue one. Unfortunately, it grazed Benjamin's white ball along the way, and the red, robbed of its force, failed to push the blue all the way into the pocket — stopping just short, agonizingly close.

Cassian let out a low, openly delighted sound in his throat.

"Then it's my turn again, I suppose."

There was none of the careful calculation his brother had just displayed. He dropped into position with the fluid ease of a predator and, in almost the same motion, struck the ball like lightning.

The blue ball seemed, at first, to fly off in a completely wrong direction. But before anyone could even begin to smirk, it struck the cushion, kicked out at a vicious angle, and proceeded to cannon into the cluster of balls gathered at the center of the table — a display of something close to wizardry. Balls exploded outward in every direction, mercilessly driving whatever remained on the green baize into the pockets.

It was as if an invisible ghost hovering over the table had taken Cassian's side. Even Edward, who had clearly not come here to win at billiards, could not hide his dismay.

"What in the world..."

Under a barrage of incredulous stares, Cassian's blue ball — the last one left standing — rolled on, smooth as silk. Just as it seemed to have spent its momentum and was about to stop, it reached Edward's last remaining red ball, perched precariously at the corner, and touched it as tenderly as a light kiss.

Clunk.

At that butterfly-wing of a contact, Edward's ball offered not a shred of resistance and tumbled helplessly into the pocket.

A deathly hush fell over the billiard room. Even the other gentlemen, who had at first pretended not to be watching, now stared, transfixed, at Cassian's lone surviving ball.

The first to move was Edward. With an elegant motion, he drew from his coat a slim, leather-bound notebook. Taking the fountain pen a club attendant had the presence of mind to bring him, he addressed Cassian with a meaningful look.

"I wonder if you still remember your first ballistics report card. It was an absolute disaster at the time."

"That's why I studied so hard."

"Yes, so it would seem."

Having signed beside the word IOU, Edward tore the page free without hesitation and laid it on Cassian's side of the table.

"I believe I must be going, Duke Priestley."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I'll arrange a quieter place for us to talk before long. We'll continue there."

Instead of answering, Benjamin smiled with exquisite politeness. Then he said:

"Take care, Your Highness. I hope you'll forgive me for not seeing you out."

"Between us? No need for that sort of courtesy."

With a hearty laugh and a handshake, Edward strode out of the hall. At the same moment, the gazes of those who had forgotten their manners and been staring this way scattered again, accompanied by low, discreet coughs.

The space around the billiard table fell silent in an instant. Benjamin planted both hands on his hips and let out a long breath.

"Let's take care of business first."

Rummaging inside his waistcoat, Benjamin produced a leather-bound notebook similar to Edward's. He scrawled a signature at unprecedented speed, then tore the completed IOU free with a snap.

"Just one question, Your Highness."

With a strangely tense look in his eyes, Benjamin laid his own IOU on top of Edward's.

"What you said just now, in front of His Highness Edward. That was merely... how shall I put it. An attempt to preserve my sister's dignity."

Benjamin cleared his throat, choosing his words with care.

"A rhetorical courtesy, nothing more. That's what I assume. I'm correct, aren't I?"

Cassian tilted his head, smiling without a word.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean..."

The shameless pretense of ignorance was a masterclass.