After the business at Kensington was finished, Robert Peel suddenly spoke while the carriage was on its way back to Westminster.
"Did it bother you?"
Killian blinked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're half Irish, aren't you? And an Irish noble besides. Some of what was said might have sounded… unpleasant."
Killian gave a small shrug.
"I was a little surprised. Though perhaps it simply reminded me how frightening politics can be."
Listening to English politicians chew over Ireland while an Irish noble sat right in front of them hardly stirred any deep emotion.
English aristocrats had treated Ireland like a ragged beggar for generations.
Besides, Peel and Melbourne probably regarded him as Irish only in name anyway.
"You said yourself that you're not truly allied with O'Connell," Peel continued. "His faction wants Irish independence. There was never any chance they would walk beside us forever."
"That's true."
Peel leaned back comfortably.
"I did hesitate for a moment, but this could actually work in our favor. Even if the Whigs succeed in destroying O'Connell, who do you think is better positioned to seize control of southern Ireland afterward—us or them?"
"Us, of course."
The answer clearly pleased him.
"I thought so. Just in case—if something like that happens, we'll need you to play a part. Think you can manage it?"
"Yes. I'll need a few preparations, but there is a way to make the chances essentially one hundred percent."
"Really? Is there anything I should help with?"
"No. I can handle it myself. Though I must admit there's one thing about this plan that bothers me."
Peel raised an eyebrow.
"Bothers you?"
"The Whigs aren't fools. They must know that if O'Connell disappears, I'll simply take his place. In simple terms, Ireland would go from forty Conservative seats and fifty for O'Connell to something like eighty-five Conservatives and five Whigs."
Peel rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Perhaps those five seats are enough to tempt them. If they had gained only nine more seats in the last election, the Whigs would have held a parliamentary majority. After the recent economic crisis they might hope to attack us politically and secure just enough seats in Ireland to cross that line. That's how I interpreted it."
"Perhaps."
Killian paused.
"But if it were me, I'd add one more step to the plan."
"To guarantee victory."
Peel looked intrigued.
"And what would you do?"
"I would circulate articles claiming that relations between O'Connell and the Conservatives had broken down."
He spoke calmly.
"Perhaps even include an anonymous source claiming that the Prime Minister had grown irritated with O'Connell's rising influence."
Peel's eyes widened slightly.
"Because once O'Connell disappears, the party that benefits most is the Conservatives," Killian continued.
"And when something suspicious happens, the first people the public suspects are the ones who gain the most."
Peel's mouth slowly fell open.
"You mean… the Whigs would orchestrate the whole thing and then blame us?"
"They would prepare carefully so that their involvement could never be proven. By the time we tried to deny it, Irish public opinion would already be in flames."
Killian's tone remained calm.
"And the anger would be directed toward the Conservatives—the treacherous party that betrayed its own ally to dominate Ireland."
Peel exhaled slowly.
"In that scenario the Whigs could win thirty seats or more."
For a moment he simply stared.
Then he laughed in astonishment.
"I knew you were exceptional when I first met you, but this proves it. You truly do have the instincts of a great politician."
Killian felt an odd sensation.
Being praised as someone destined to become a top-tier politician in the British Empire felt suspiciously like an insult.
…No, wait. That was definitely meant as praise.
"Either way," Killian said, "if such a scheme exists, we should prepare a response."
"That's simple," Peel replied. "We refuse the Whigs' proposal and return to the status quo."
"That only resets the board. I have a better idea."
Peel leaned forward.
"Let's hear it."
"Pretend to accept the Whigs' offer."
"And then?"
"I'll handle the rest."
Peel frowned slightly.
"Wouldn't that require party resources?"
"That would make secrecy harder," Killian said. "And increase the chance the Whigs notice."
In truth, he had another reason.
At the moment, his intelligence network—thanks to the two largest detective agencies in London—was probably more capable than the Conservative Party's.
"Just provide funding," he added.
"I plan to hire one of the detective agencies currently making waves in London. Information gathering like this may require a considerable sum."
Peel nodded immediately.
"Ah yes, I've heard of those companies running large detective operations."
"That's a good idea. Paying professionals is faster than mobilizing a party apparatus."
He waved a hand casually.
"The expenses will be covered. Choose the best investigators and begin the inquiry."
"Understood."
Killian nodded politely.
Perfect.
If he billed the party for an investigation he was already planning to conduct himself, he would save money and gather intelligence at the same time.
A tidy arrangement.
Investigate, earn money, and take advantage of the Whigs' scheme.
Truly efficient.
* * *
Only a few days had passed since Victoria's accession, yet much had already changed.
For one thing, the new queen announced that she would not immediately move to Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle.
Coronations traditionally took place months—sometimes a year—after a monarch's death.
So the move would likely wait until after William IV's funeral.
Still, the birth of a new reign was enough to revive London's weary spirits.
Newspapers, starved for headlines, enthusiastically reported how composed Victoria had been on the very first day of her reign.
Public expectations soared.
The monarch no longer ruled directly over politics, but many citizens hoped their young and beautiful queen might bring fresh energy to the nation.
As Killian made his way to the palace after receiving Victoria's summons, the people he passed certainly seemed more hopeful than before.
Even if little had actually changed, economic recovery was influenced as much by confidence as by policy.
Hope alone could help lift a nation from recession.
"We greet Your Majesty."
"It's only been a few days, but you look thinner already."
The Duke of Sussex bowed slightly while Killian knelt formally.
Victoria shot them both an irritated look.
"Please don't be so formal in private," she said.
"Killian I can understand, but Uncle, when you do it too it feels terribly awkward."
Prince Frederick chuckled.
"Very well. I'll adjust accordingly. Though I'm not entirely sure this counts as private."
He glanced toward the Earl of Cunningham standing beside Victoria.
Cunningham smiled apologetically.
"I'm here only to deliver His late Majesty's will. Once that is done, I will return to my duties."
At the word will, Prince Frederick's lips twitched.
He clearly knew what was coming but pretended curiosity.
"So my brother left something for me?"
"Yes," Cunningham said.
"This matter will first be conveyed to you and Her Majesty before it is made public."
Killian hesitated.
"Should I step outside?"
"No," Cunningham replied.
"The Earl of Arran is also concerned in this matter. You may remain."
He unfolded a document wrapped in aged leather.
"This is the final testament of His Majesty King William IV addressed to the Duke of Sussex and Her Majesty Queen Victoria."
He read aloud.
"Although the Duke of Sussex entered into a marriage that violated royal law, I believe his love to be sincere. I have long regretted treating my brother too harshly. Therefore, if my successor sees fit, I hope they may grant their blessing to his marriage—even if only after my death."
Victoria considered it briefly.
"Then I may officially recognize the marriage between the Duke of Sussex and Cecilia Underwood née Gore"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"In fact, doing so promptly will likely earn praise for honoring the late king's wishes."
"Then we will announce it tomorrow."
Cunningham nodded.
"And what title shall be granted to Cecilia Underwood?"
"Since the recognition is retroactive, she cannot be styled Duchess of Sussex. However, His Grace also holds the title Earl of Inverness. Granting her the title Duchess of Inverness would be appropriate."
"Then so be it."
Victoria turned decisively.
"Prepare the necessary procedures today."
"Understood."
Prince Augustus Frederick could barely hide his joy.
Watching his wife treated as an outsider in Kensington Palace had clearly been painful for him.
Just as Cunningham prepared to leave, Prince Frederick asked another question.
"So my wife will now be fully recognized as both my wife and a member of the royal family?"
"That is correct."
Prince Frederick nodded thoughtfully.
"Then what would happen if I adopted Killian, my wife's nephew?"
Cunningham froze.
"…I beg your pardon?"
"I do have children," Prince Frederick said calmly, "but legally they hold no rights. If I adopted Killian, how would the law treat it?"
Cunningham struggled to answer.
"Well… legally speaking, the adoption itself would not be impossible."
"But adoption alone would not grant inheritance rights."
"Nor would it make him a member of the royal bloodline."
"Inheritance rights would require royal approval—"
"Why wouldn't I approve it?" Victoria interrupted.
Cunningham blinked rapidly.
"You… would approve inheritance rights?"
"No. I'm simply saying I wouldn't reject the idea automatically."
Cunningham shook his head.
"That would be extremely difficult. If the Duke of Sussex were merely another nobleman, perhaps it would be possible."
"But this involves the royal family."
"Public opinion and Parliament would strongly oppose it."
Victoria sighed.
"So in other words, I have the authority but I shouldn't use it."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"If you attempted such a decision after twenty or thirty years of successful rule, perhaps it could be forced through."
"But doing so within weeks of your accession would provoke enormous backlash."
Victoria nodded.
"I understand."
Cunningham left in visible relief.
Victoria watched him go and clicked her tongue.
"So many powers, yet apparently none of them can actually be used."
Killian spoke gently.
"In this case, he's right."
An Irish mixed-blood noble becoming a member of the English royal house and heir to the Duke of Sussex?
And decided by a teenage queen barely a week into her reign?
Expecting that to pass quietly would be unrealistic.
"Still," Killian added, "recognizing Cecilia as Duchess of Inverness solves another matter."
"I can now recommend her to the Prime Minister without hesitation."
Prince Frederick blinked.
"Recommend her?"
Victoria suddenly understood.
"Of course. If Cecilia becomes Duchess of Inverness, the Conservatives could recommend her as Mistress of the Robes."
"Though it's unusual for a royal to hold the position," Prince Frederick added.
"True," Killian said.
"But Cecilia is newly entering the royal family. This could help her gain recognition quickly."
"And in any case, the current Mistress of the Robes will likely be temporary."
Since William IV had died, Victoria would soon dissolve Parliament and call new elections.
Which meant the office might change hands within months.
A prestigious position lasting only two months was hardly appealing to most aristocrats.
Victoria smiled thoughtfully.
"But that means Cecilia might step down in two months."
"That's fine," Killian replied.
"If the Conservatives win the election, they can simply recommend keeping her."
Prince Frederick looked deeply moved.
Victoria laughed softly.
"Thank you. Becoming the adopted son of the Duchess of Inverness will certainly elevate your influence in Ireland."
Killian sighed dramatically.
"So you saw through me."
"Of course."
He grinned.
"As someone who once had the honor of serving as Your Majesty's teacher, I couldn't be prouder of such insight."
Victoria stared at him for a moment—
Then burst out laughing.