Penelope and Prince Charming (Nvengaria #1)(117)
Alexander studied him closely. “When you look at her, the monster goes away. You are obviously besotted with Miss Trask, but you also wear the look of a man who will never let anything hurt her, least of all you.”
The trouble with Alexander was that the man was too perceptive for his own good.
“I intend to continue watching Penelope for as long as I am able.” Damien felt his mouth stretch into a smile. “Try falling in love, Alexander. ’Twill make your life … interesting.”
“No, thank you. I find it interesting enough.”
“Words of a man who has never swum those waters. You will happily drown.”
Alexander gave him a cool stare. “I much doubt it.” He touched his abdomen, where the wounds had healed. Petri had made certain that the blue and gold sash of the Grand Duke had been mended as well. “However, I have learned never to argue with magic.”
“Whenever you do fall in love, I will be the first to congratulate you,” Damien said. “But we must return to the problem of what to do with you.”
Alexander’s hand returned to its relaxed position on the arm of the chair. “I confess, I had thought I would face a firing squad this morning.”
Damien’s smile faded. “I am not my father—I will not execute every person who annoys me. One loses ones friends as well as enemies when that happens.”
“But if you spare every person, then your enemies will take advantage of you,” Alexander said. “They will move against you, knowing you will not try very hard to stop them.”
“I never said I would not stop them,” Damien corrected him. “I simply said I do not believe in random execution. I intend to have trials and juries and so forth. No stealing people away in the middle of the night. No dungeons, no arbitrary firing squads.”
Alexander laughed mirthlessly. “You’ll not last a week.”
“We shall see.” Damien narrowed his eyes. “As for you—you do have many supporters. There are plenty of reformers in this country who admire you. If I put you to death, you might become a martyr to our volatile people, who would then take up arms against me. The best thing I can do, I’ve decided, is to have you work for me.”
Alexander stilled, the ruby in his ear glinting against his dark hair. “Work for you? You would never trust me by your side.”
“Very true.” Damien turned the silver ring again. “So, I have decided that you will work for me elsewhere, in the courts of Europe, especially that of England. You do not want the Hapsburgs or the Ottomans to swallow Nvengaria, and neither do I. You have done much already to keep them out, but you need to go out into the world and discover exactly what they are up to. Anastasia does much, but she is rather fanatical in her hatred for Austria, which makes her miss things.”
Damien had sent trusted men to find Anastasia and make certain she was all right, and was pleased to hear she had not been badly hurt. She was recovering in a spa town in Bavaria, probably spying like mad while she was there. He doubted Felsan’s torture would stop her from her covert activities—in fact, the incident would more likely spur her on.
“I need someone more neutral,” Damien continued, “who is for Nvengaria but not looking to take revenge against anyone else.”
“And you would trust me to do this?” Alexander asked. His fingers slowly folded into his palms.
“Yes,” Damien answered without hesitation. “I know you would never raise an army of Russians or Austrians to overthrow me. If you brought in their soldiers, they might decide to stay and invite their leaders to follow. Mercenaries need a great deal of money to be placated. I would trust you because you love Nvengaria as much as I do. More, probably.”
Alexander considered. “So you wish to exile me?” A swallow barely moved his throat. “A punishment that will hurt me more than death?”
Damien rested his elbows on his chair’s padded arms and opened his hands. “I cannot trust you here. I need you out in the world. It is not exile—unless you want it to be. You may come home any time.” He paused. “I really do need you, Alexander. Though I do not trust you with my life, I do trust you to want what is best for Nvengaria.”
Alexander sat back, his bearing as imperious as ever. “What of my son?”
Damien’s brows went up. “Alex? What of him?”
“Will he be free to accompany me? Or will he be held here as a hostage for my good behavior?”
Damien gave Alexander a long look, while Alexander waited, anger but also worry in his eyes.
“You expect so much cruelty from me,” Damien said. “I would never allow an innocent boy to be used as a hostage. Penelope would never allow it even if I were that pitiless. Take Alex with you or leave him, as you wish. If he remains here, Penelope will look after him and see to his schooling, and all those things ladies like to do.”
“His own mother had little to do with him,” Alexander said, his voice quieting. “Although that does not mean she did not care for him.”
Damien spoke gently but sincerely. “I am sorry for Sephronia’s death.”
Alexander shrugged as though he’d accepted it, but Damien saw true grief in his eyes. “It was quick, in the end.”
Damien gave him a nod, understanding. “Do this for me, Alexander. I need you in England. I want the Regent’s help against Russia, Austria, and the Ottomans if necessary, but I do not trust him or his cabinet. I need someone strong to keep the Regent and his advisors tame, someone they know can be ruthless if necessary. I need you to be my sword.”