The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Twenty-Five

Christian watched the group of women sashaying down the hall, standing as close to Tamsin as he could without actually touching her. They had apparently already been raising enough eyebrows. Something he didn’t think would be a problem anymore, at least if he could get his uncle to see reason. But perhaps Tamsin wasn’t so ready to give everything up for him. He couldn’t blame her. And he hadn’t actually asked her to, so it shouldn’t matter. Yet.

But it still angered him to see her so quickly abandoning everything she had planned, even agreeing to extending her mourning period, just to make those harpies happy.

“So,” he said, watching the women until they had disappeared around a corner. “It seems your acceptance into society is finally imminent.”

Tamsin lifted her gaze to his, so much turmoil in her eyes he doubted she even knew what she was feeling.

“They seem open to discussing my foundations, at least,” she finally said.

“If you capitulate to all their wishes.”

Tamsin’s gaze hardened, but Christian sighed. They definitely needed to talk. But there wasn’t time just then.

“I must go,” he said, with regret that he’d been on the verge of brewing an argument at such a moment. “My uncle’s steward has gained me an audience. And advised me that he is in a foul mood. It seems he has seen a few of the less flattering cartoons that are circulating about him.”

She sucked in a breath. “Oh, Christian. I…I am so sorry…”

“No,” he said, drawing as close as he could to her without actually taking her in his arms. “Do not apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. He will get over it. As long as he doesn’t know that you and the artist are one and the same,” he said with a wink. “Come.”

He turned and led her to a small antechamber, neither of them saying another word even when the steward closed the doors, leaving them to await the final summons.

They didn’t have to wait long. Hardly more than a minute lapsed before the chamber door opened and a footman bowed to Christian.

“You may enter, my lord,” he said.

Christian gave him a sharp nod and turned to Tamsin.

“I’ll be here waiting for you,” she said, obviously trying to put everything else out of her mind so she could give him a credibly confident smile.

But he knew her too well. He could see the worry behind her eyes.

He took her hand, brushing a thumb across it while he looked into her eyes one last time, and then turned on his heels and marched in, leaving her sitting in the small antechamber.

He knew she wanted to go in with him. And part of him wanted her there beside him. She certainly had every right to be there while her possible future was discussed. But dropping in on his uncle unsummoned was breach of protocol enough without adding to it with an uninvited guest. Christian alone might get away with it. He was family, after all. He could get away with a little poor behavior now and then.

In any case, the walls were thin. She’d likely be able to hear everything anyway. Which might not be a good thing if his uncle was about to say what Christian feared.

The footman waited for him to pass the doorway before calling out, “Christian August, Graf von Rauchberg.”

His uncle sat perched on an ornate chair, surrounded by a dozen or so gentlemen and ladies, several of whom Christian recognized. He ignored them all. His uncle glanced at him as he approached, watching as Christian bowed, clicking his heels sharply.

“Rauchberg. I had not expected to see you until tomorrow. To what do I owe this impromptu visit?”

“I must have a word with you, Your Highness.”

Prince Heinrich’s bored expression didn’t completely hide his quick flash of annoyance. “It could not wait until our appointment? I am entertaining guests.”

“No, Uncle. It cannot wait.”

Heinrich’s brows rose. Pointing out their familial attachment so soon into the conversation was a weakness he had not utilized in quite some time. It pained him to do so now. He typically tried to keep his ties with his sovereign prince out of the conversation. But this once, he did not want any delay. Too much hung in the balance.

Heinrich stood and made a slight shooing gesture. “If everyone will excuse us for a moment, it appears I must have a word with my nephew.”

Everyone filed out, chattering quietly amongst themselves, more than a few of the women eyeing him speculatively. Christian had no energy or patience for any of them. He simply stood with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for them all to leave so he could discover if his world was about to burn down around him or not.

He looked up at the last second and caught Tamsin’s eye, holding it until the door closed her away from his sight.

“So,” Heinrich said. “What did you need to talk about that couldn’t wait one more day?”

Christian’s eyes narrowed. It was bad enough he’d had to come search his uncle out. He did not appreciate the feigned ignorance with which he was being toyed.

“I believe you are already aware why I have come, Uncle,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone even, measured. Betraying not a hint of the turmoil eating him alive from the inside.

“Hmm,” Heinrich said, looking him over with a faint smile. “Yes. You’ve come about your proposed marriage, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Christian bit out with one sharp sound.

His uncle nodded and went to sit behind the desk that took up one side of the room. “You needn’t worry about that,” he said, waving to a chair in front of the desk for Christian to sit.

He did not do so, his blood running cold at his uncle’s words. “What do you mean?”

Heinrich frowned at his tone but answered readily enough. “I mean, you needn’t worry about finding a wife. I have found one for you. A princess of the Anhalt-Bernburg line. A pretty little thing. Well-read. Healthy. She’ll make you an excellent wife.”

It took Christian a second to suck the air back into his lungs. He couldn’t have been more shocked if his uncle had jumped up and slapped him with a wet sock full of soggy beans. He’d expected some argument, yes. But a betrothal to someone else?

And then the name struck him.

“Anhalt-Bernburg?”

His uncle pinned him with a fierce look. “Yes. They have agreed to a treaty. Agreed to end the decades of turmoil between our states. This marriage will be the seal of good faith between our territories.”

Christian’s head spun. His uncle had been trying to broker this treaty for as long as Christian could remember. That he had finally succeeded was nothing short of a miracle. But the price…

“Uncle…bitte. Please.” He swallowed hard. “I cannot.”

As quietly as the words were spoken, they seemed to echo through the room.

Heinrich barely reacted, as if he’d known it was coming. And he probably had. If he’d gotten Christian’s letter…

“I know how difficult this is—” Heinrich began.

“You couldn’t possibly know—”

Heinrich launched up from his chair and slammed his fist on the table. “I know!”

Christian flinched despite himself.

“I know,” his uncle repeated more quietly. Then he shook his head with a bitter laugh. “Do you truly think you are the only man to ever love where he should not? The only man who has ever stood before his ruler and begged to be allowed one modicum of happiness before devoting his life to his country and subjects?”

The gaze he turned to Christian was distant, haunted. “Mine was named Maria. She was the daughter of an equerry.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I haven’t spoken her name in twenty years.”

Heinrich’s face grew hard, resolute, and the tiny spark of hope in Christian’s chest sputtered out. But he wouldn’t stop fighting. Not yet.

“If you know, then—”

“What I know is that my selfishness almost caused a crisis that could have toppled our house. As my brother’s did before me. Instead of following in his ill-guided footsteps, I came to my senses in time and did my duty. As you will do yours.”

“Uncle…surely there are others who would take my place. Make the alliance. I—”

“No. Even if you do not marry the princess, a marriage to this duchess is not possible, Christian. Not for you. Not now. Even if our tenuous peace did not hang in the balance, it is still impossible. The laws governing us are resolute. Not only by constitution, but also by the laws of our house. And both would decree this marriage unequal. Worse, a mismarriage. Her foreignness would be an issue in and of itself, but her status—”

“She is a duchess,” Christian said, already knowing it would make no difference.

“By marriage, not blood. Her father is a merchant, not even landed gentry. The inequality is too great. Even if you were to run off and marry, it would be for naught. The marriage would be considered null and void in our country.”

Not for the first time, Christian wondered if his uncle could read his mind. Because he had been considering just that. Grabbing Tamsin and running, as far and fast as they could.

“It would only be void if you do not consent,” he finally said. “It may be unequal, yes, but a mismarriage only without permission. As head of house, your consent supersedes the equality requirement. You could—”

“I could not.”

“You will not, you mean.”

His uncle gazed at him, his face hard, unmoving. “If you prefer. Even if I did, it would not matter. Unequal or mismarriage, the consequences are the same. You would lose everything, Christian. Everything! And it would set a precedent we cannot allow. We cannot make a misstep. The Confederation is too new. The new families of the upper nobility are too keen to consolidate their power and prestige, and we must do so as well if our house is to endure. Your parents’ marriage did enough damage. We won’t survive another such union. You’ve known this practically since birth, Christian. And you know the consequences for breaking these laws.”

Christian shook his head. “But there are exceptions. There are precedents. Your own grandparents—”

“My grandmother was my grandfather’s second wife. His first marriage was equal. He produced an heir with her. So yes, he was permitted to marry my grandmother upon his first wife’s death. And when his son by his first marriage died, the emperor saw fit to raise my grandmother’s rank and allow her issue to inherit. Had he been having a worse day, that might not have occurred,” he added.

“Perhaps,” Christian said, clinging to the hope still fluttering in his chest. “But as we are no longer subjects of the emperor, our legal authority now rests with you as our head of house. If you consent—”

“I am still bound by our laws, nephew. Even were I to bend them to your whim, it would not be without cost. Those exceptions and precedents of which you speak were not without their penalties. Costs that I would not have you pay. The sacrifice is too great.”

“Not to me. I would gladly accept whatever consequence I must, sacrifice whatever I must—”

“And what about her? Would you have her suffer the same fate as your mother? What about the children she might bear you? Must they suffer the consequences of your selfishness as your brother and you suffered for your parents?”

Christian’s jaw popped as he gritted his teeth. “I would ensure our children were taken care of. And as for Tamsin… It is different. She is different.”

But even as he said it, doubt clawed at him. Tamsin’s entire focus since the day he met her was to be accepted by society. For her son. For her charities. For herself. Her quest had begun long before he’d met her. She hadn’t really fit in with her father’s world, not being the son he desired. She hadn’t fit in at school, with the wealth of her peers but not the bloodlines. Her first husband had raised her status but did nothing to ensure her acceptance and mostly ignored her in their private lives. She’d spent her whole life searching for a place to belong.

Could he really ask her to spend the rest of her life in permanent exile? Belonging nowhere? Except to him. Would that be enough for her?

Even if she said yes, how could he be selfish enough to ask that of her?

“How is it different?” His uncle took a deep breath. “Even if that were true, and even if I could arrange for someone else to fulfill the alliance without committing a fatal offense and consented to this union,” he continued, his voice quieter, “you would, at best, lose your place in the line of succession. Your wife and whatever children came of your union would have no legal right to share your titles or estates and would be barred from inheriting. There is a very real possibility that if you were to predecease them, they would be left with nothing. Not even the legal right to membership in our house. Is that what you wish for the woman you love?”

No. It wasn’t.

Christian stopped, defeated. He’d known his cause was doomed. But he’d dared to hope. Dared to dream that an exception would be made. That his uncle would have a magical solution…or at least a legal loophole that would allow him to marry Tamsin with at least some of the protection that his position should afford her. But he couldn’t condemn her to such an uncertain future. He wouldn’t.

And now…he had nothing.