Mathilda, Dowager Baroness of Darkmoor, sat on the left of the Duke of Silden. While no longer young, she still possessed a court-bred ease and charm, learned while growing up among the powerful eastern nobles. The Duke, a widower, was an obvious target for a woman of her breeding. He appeared mildly interested.
Dash cast a glance back at his brother and saw that Jimmy was attempting to be interested in something said by the daughter of an eastern Earl; which one he couldn’t remember. She was a pretty enough girl in a vapid way, and Dash’s amusement at his brother’s frustration turned to sympathy. Francie was clearly the most interesting young woman in court, if not the most beautiful, and the time Jimmy had spent with her over the last couple of weeks had awakened something; at the very least, a proprietary impulse if not something deeper.
Dash knew that neither he nor his brother would be free to follow their heart’s call as long as they were in service to the crown. They were too highly born, being the sons and grandsons of Dukes. Jimmy would most likely advance to a similar high office, and Dash would probably end up an Earl if he continued in service.
Which meant neither son would have a great deal to say in the matter of whom they would wed. That detail would be up to their father to a lesser extent, and the King’s pleasure to a greater extent. Factionism in the Kingdom was a way of life, and keeping the two realms closely allied an ongoing problem. The East had the population, the wealth, and the political strength. The West had the natural resources, the potential for growth, and all the problems of a frontier: enemies, disorder, and constant difficulty governing. Marrying off the eligible daughters of one realm to the sons of the other was a time-honored method of keeping the two realms close, and no more eligible son existed than the future King.
Francie glanced over at Jimmy and smiled at him, then returned her attention to Patrick. Dash leaned over and said, “We should ask Father.”
“Ask him what?” Jimmy turned, looking confused.
“Who the King wants his son to marry. You don’t think for a moment that hasn’t already been decided, do you?”
Jimmy considered this, then smiled. “You’re probably right. If Father doesn’t know, then no one does.”
Jimmy waited until Duke Arutha looked his way, then motioned with his head. Arutha nodded, then rose and came around to stand behind Baroness Mathilda. He whispered something to the Prince, who waved him away with a smile, and moved around to where his sons stood. They bowed toward the Prince, who wasn’t looking at them, then walked from the table.
Once the three were outside of the hall, Dash observed, “We’re going to have to start turning away nobles if they continue to show up.”
Arutha said, “More are coming. The court here in Darkmoor is to be as visible and noisy as we can make it. We will find rooms for as many who arrive as possible, first here, then in the nearby city. The rest will be quartered outside the wall, in pavilions and campaign tents. There is to be a month of public celebration.”
Jimmy’s mouth opened in disbelief. “This can’t be true?”
“It is,” said Arutha.
Jimmy said, “But we have to finalize our deal with Duko—”
“That’s been accomplished. We sent him terms and he replied this morning.”
“What arrangement has been agreed to?” asked Dash.
Arutha motioned that they should walk. He headed out toward the central courtyard of the castle. The halls were thronged with pages, servants, and guards, attending the needs of a score of visiting nobles. “Within a month’s time, our former enemy will become Duke of the Southern Marches.”
“Lord Sutherland!” exclaimed Jimmy. “That’s incredible.”
“Patrick would rather not give him anything, and the King would prefer to name him Baron of Land’s End or something equally . . . local. I persuaded them both otherwise.”
“Why, Father?” asked Dash.
“Because Duko has, to all effects, a personal army of close to twenty-five thousand men. He may dream of something more noble than his previous calling as a sword-for-hire, but most of his soldiers have no allegiance to the Kingdom. I convinced the King that he might be the only hope for us to keep those men under control and make them Kesh’s problem rather than our own.”
Dash got a calculating expression. “If he’s a Duke. . . This means he answers to the Prince, and not to you.”
“I have my hands full. And if Patrick has direct control over Duko, he may come to trust him.”
Jimmy smiled. “Yet you will be advising the Prince on all matters pertaining to the Southern Marches.”