You'll Need Me Soon
In high society, the reputation of Edward, Duke of Kingsley, was far from poor. Above all else, he was regarded as thoroughly aristocratic — a man who understood the inner workings of Winster as well as anyone.
Once, back when they had all been princes — the late king included — Edward had made an open bid for the throne. But that had been the end of it. After so many years, few still remembered the fact… save for the occasional oddity like Wilhelmina.
"There's one thing I must make perfectly clear: His Highness Edward has conducted himself exceedingly well all this time. As it stands, most of high society would rather see him as Regent than a man whose hands are soaked in blood — the so-called Slaughterer of the Blue Sea."
The nobles of Winster's high society were a haughty lot, every last one of them. They hadn't the slightest interest in where the tea they drank like water came from, nor the sugar they stirred into it. Indeed, they often seemed to forget that their Brighton was a nation isolated in the middle of a vast ocean.
The ships that carried silver out, and those that brought tea and silk, sugar and pepper back in — all of them sailed under the protection of the very man they called a slaughterer. That was no idle talk. The moment he vacated the seas, merchants had raised the prices of tea leaves and every other import in unison.
Cassian was a hero, without question. And yet high society still looked down on him, murmuring that he was a man who lived by blood every day. It was scarcely different from the hypocrisy of those who dined on meat every day while condemning the butcher as a brute.
When Wilhelmina's razor-sharp, merciless summation came to an end, Cassian fell into a long silence, his expression unreadable. The arrogant air with which he had, until moments ago, regarded the uninvited guest before him as some curious new species of creature had vanished without a trace.
After that lengthy silence, Cassian finally parted his lips.
"I'll grant you that."
His silver-gray eyes swept over Wilhelmina like cold moonlight.
"That insolently confident reasoning of yours isn't far off the mark. It's true that I currently need a marriage in name — something to prove I have a stable political foundation, and to silence my brother Edward's petty, tiresome objections."
"A wise assessment, Your Highness."
"However, Miss Priestley."
Cassian tilted his head slightly, that gracious and lethal smile returning to his lips.
"The fact that I need a 'wife' to prove my fitness as Regent does not mean that wife must be you. Winster's high society is overflowing with virtuous, obedient, and — above all — honorable unmarried ladies who have never starred in some vulgar rumor about tumbling about on a boat with a River Tess ferryman. Wouldn't you agree?"
It was mockery, openly barbed. A provocation, almost — as if to ask whether she could swallow even this.
Any ordinary daughter of a good house would have been undone by shame at this point, and retreated from a humiliation of her own making.
Unfortunately for him, Wilhelmina did not belong to that ordinary category.
"That, Your Highness, is precisely your most obvious limitation."
On the contrary — she even clicked her tongue at him, quite openly.
"If Your Highness truly understood the nature of high society, you would never have dared apply so naive a pair of adjectives as 'virtuous and obedient' to unmarried ladies."
"Miss Priestley..."
"Please, do think this through."
Wilhelmina urged him, almost earnestly.
"In the present circumstances, with political enemies circling your claim to the Regency on every side — suppose you entered a proper marriage with one of those virtuous, obedient young ladies of a distinguished house. Could you be certain that wife would be entirely on your side?"
"That is hardly a matter for you to worry about, Miss Priestley."
"Of course not. I haven't the slightest desire to join you at so precarious a moment of political tightrope-walking."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes. I say this with absolute certainty: had His Highness Edward not been the one who spread this scandal, I would never have ventured this far."
At those words, Cassian's moonlit eyes froze over.
"...What did you just say?"
Tap. Tap-tap. Rain began to streak down the windows, cutting through the dense fog. A rumble of thunder rolled through the clouds.
"I assumed Your Highness had more or less guessed as much. Was I wrong?"
Cassian said nothing.
"His Highness Edward will want to become Regent by any means — or, at the very least, to prevent you from becoming one. And in that situation, there is no greater prize than Duke Priestley, who has thus far remained neutral."
"In other words, my brother attacked you in order to get his hands on the Priestleys?"
"The period of national mourning has ended, but the people are still steeped in grief over the loss of His Majesty the King. The longer my scandal drags on in such a climate, the more the Priestley name will be tarnished. And that is precisely when His Highness Edward will extend a hand, playing the savior — claiming, of course, that he just happens to have a most 'suitable' match for a young lady who has lost her honor."
A silent flash of lightning lit the world beyond the pouring rain. In the midst of it, Wilhelmina smiled — a smile as ominous as they came.
"Could you, of all people, tolerate a dirty scheme like that?"
Cassian stared at her in silence for a long moment, then pressed a hand to his forehead and began to shake his shoulders, faintly.
"Ha."
It soon became a suppressed laugh, echoing through the silent study.
"Haha — ha — hahahaha!"
The laughter that burst from Cassian in the darkness was immensely hearty — and, at the same time, chilling enough to raise the hair on one's neck.
After laughing himself nearly breathless with wild delight, his gaze found Wilhelmina once more. She could see quite clearly the faint remnant of a smile still lingering softly across his entire face. He called her name, low.
"Miss Priestley."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Do you have evidence to support what you just claimed?"
"Not yet."
"In that case, you can hardly object if I decline your proposal."
As he delivered yet another unmistakable rejection, Cassian found himself curious. How would Wilhelmina react, faced with a refusal he had already lost count of? Before, she had pressed on because she still had more to say — but now, had she not already laid out every advantage she could possibly claim?
Will she finally be discouraged?
It would not have been an exaggeration to say he had refused her purely out of curiosity on that point.
But his expectation missed the mark. Wilhelmina was astonishingly composed. No — composed did not begin to cover it. A triumphant smile was spreading across her lips, as if she had already won.
"Very well. I never expected Your Highness to snatch up this extraordinary proposal after a single meeting, either."
Wilhelmina rose from her seat with elegant composure, lightly brushing out the unwrinkled folds of her dress. It was a perfectly ladylike gesture.
"But I assure you, my dear Highness."
She whispered, wearing that peculiar smile of hers — the one that twisted her full lips in a most particular way.
A voice like a curse.
And that face. What on earth was one supposed to call that face? An expression that displayed every color and every light at once, like a gemstone with a thousand facets.
Having said her piece, Wilhelmina turned without a shred of lingering attachment and swept out of the study.
The door slammed shut.
The silence that rushed in like a tide felt unfamiliar. Was that how overwhelming her presence had been, filling this room until a moment ago?
"Wheeeew!"
In that instant, someone Cassian had completely forgotten broke the silence.
"I thought I was going to suffocate! That really was one hell of a young lady."
"...Uncle."
Henry, Earl of Mortimer. This man with the easygoing, good-natured face was Cassian's maternal uncle — and the companion whose presence Cassian had specifically requested for this occasion.