An Uncrowned King Chapter 10 Part 7

“I send a proposal? and through Drakovics? You must be dreaming. Who is the lady?”

“Princess Ottilie of Mœsia.”

“A girl I have never spoken to in my life!” Caerleon’s tone was one of hopeless bewilderment.

“Oh yes, you have. You danced with her at the State ball two years ago, when the Mœsias visited England, don’t you remember? The King looked on and smiled approvingly, and the chaperons began to put their heads together and discuss seriously the best way of preventing foreign royalties from carrying off the biggest things in the marriage market. I believe they came to the conclusion that no princess ought ever to be allowed to marry a subject. With princes it was different, of course. You can’t have forgotten?”

“I remember her—a black-eyed, rather bouncing girl. But you don’t mean,” and Caerleon grew hot and cold as the recollection came back to him of the chaff he had endured from his friends on account of the unmistakable favour shown him by the royal guests,—“you don’t mean that they are on the track of that foolery again? They must be made to understand at once that it’s absolutely impossible. You never believed it?”

“I was very glad to hear it.”

“What! when you know that it’s less than a month since I asked Nadia O’Malachy to marry me, and that I would willingly chuck up the kingdom to-day if she would only take me?”

“I hoped,” said Cyril, deliberately, “that you regarded that affair as over and done with, and were intending to sacrifice your private feelings and do the best thing for the country.”

“You thought I was intending to be a scoundrel?”

“I wish you would not be melodramatic,” said Cyril, pathetically. “Here we are, between the devil, which is Scythia, and the deep sea of the neutrality of the other Powers, and you have the chance of settling everything on a firm foundation by marrying a very handsome girl belonging to one of the oldest houses in Europe. I am not given to preaching, but I do say that it would be a sin not to sacrifice your feelings in such a case, and marry her. The marriage would simply be the making of you and Thracia both.”

“I—will—not—do—it,” said Caerleon, forcing out the words slowly.

“As for Miss O’Malachy,” went on Cyril, “I give her credit for possessing much too good sense to wish to keep you a bachelor all your life for her sake. If you were to consult her, I am sure she would wish you to make a suitable marriage. In fact, I should think she has probably advised you already to do so.” The blow told, for Caerleon winced at the remembrance of the advice which it had been almost harder for him to hear from her lips than for Nadia to give. “She knew perfectly well what she was doing when she refused you. It meant that you were each to go your own way in the future, with no thought of the other. If you don’t marry, it will be thought you still have hopes of her.”

“And what is it to you if I have?” demanded Caerleon, so fiercely that Cyril jumped. He could not think of anything to say, and presently Caerleon resumed in a quieter tone, “But I have none. She put me on my honour to stick to the kingdom, and so long as I am king she will have nothing to do with me.”

“I knew she was a sensible woman!” said Cyril, triumphantly. “Now, Caerleon, let me advise you to take this thing quietly. See Princess Ottilie. You haven’t an idea what she is really like, and you may find her very like Miss O’Malachy——” (“I hope to goodness he won’t!” he added to himself), “or she may catch your heart at the rebound, or you may fall head over ears in love with her, and find that you really mistook your feelings last time——”

“I am so sure of my feelings,” interrupted Caerleon, “that I won’t pretend to run after another girl for anything you can offer me.”

“Then I should like to know what you mean to do,” said Cyril. “It’s not a private and personal matter; it is to save your kingdom.”

“Hang the kingdom!” cried Caerleon. “I won’t sell myself for the sake of Thracia. If I can’t be king and be a gentleman, let the kingdom go.”

“If you would only listen for a moment!” sighed Cyril. “This is what I was going to say. Take no further steps of any kind, and leave everything to Drakovics. Things can be formally arranged without your going near the girl, and the mere fact that the preliminaries are settled will do all we want. Once we are past this crisis, and Scythia and Pannonia have quarrelled again, you can pay a visit to Eusebia, and make yourself so disgustingly disagreeable that the Princess will be bound to throw you over.”

“Of all the shabby tricks!” cried Caerleon, pushing back his chair violently. “I declare, Cyril, if I didn’t know you were joking, I’d kick you out of the room. Entrap a girl into a bogus engagement for the sake of gaining a political advantage, indeed!”

“I only wish you had displayed a little of this aggressive virtue before,” said Cyril. “You quite gave Drakovics to understand, when he first offered you the crown, that you were prepared to fall in with his views on matrimony, and he has merely been acting upon that.”