He turned slowly, surveying the room. Hundreds of guests, wearing a mixture of suits, dresses, and fancy costumes, were crowding around the buffet tables, slowly dancing on the marble floor, or splashing around in the pool at the far end of the room. Men and women with power, flanked by their dates . . . the latter doing everything in their power to make themselves look important, because their patrons were important. They should have looked happy—Peter and his sister had gone to some trouble to make the affair sparkle—but there was an air of despondency that pervaded the entire gathering. The older guests, the ones with true power, looked bowed down by some immense weight, while the younger ones were desperately trying to cheer themselves up. He caught sight of a young man swimming naked in the pool, followed by a handful of young women, and winced at the sight. Everyone was trying to convince themselves that nothing was wrong . . .
The butler materialized beside him. “Sir, the select group has been guided to the meeting room,” he said. “They’re waiting for you now.”
“Good,” Peter said. He didn’t bother to hide his relief. The party was starting to look and feel like a wake. “Make sure that none of the other guests go wandering.”
He strode across the room, passing a handful of young men and women sitting by the pool. A couple of them were junior aristocrats, trying to shock their betters, but others were nothing more than groupies, trying to carve out a place for themselves in the aristocratic world. They looked fresh and pretty and carefree—they were trying to pretend that they belonged—but the effect was ruined by their constant glances at their social betters for approval. Peter felt a stab of sympathy, knowing that most of them would not enjoy their time in High Society. They’d certainly never enjoy the security of someone born to the aristocracy.
The sound of people trying to be happy cut off abruptly as he passed through a secure door, which closed firmly behind him. Peter allowed himself a moment of relief—he’d never had time to just relax and enjoy himself at parties—and then kept walking until he reached the conference room. The king would have observers at the party, he was sure, but they’d have great difficulty in telling just who had and who hadn’t been invited to the meeting. It wasn’t uncommon for an aristocrat to find a bright young thing and take them to bed. Or for someone to just sneak off early.
He stepped into the conference room and looked around. The space was crammed with political and economic power. Ten of the fourteen dukes, along with a dozen other aristocrats who represented financial and corporate interests; the Leader of the Opposition and his closest allies; a pair of media moguls; and even a handful of military men. Peter’s gaze swept the room, silently gauging their mood. United, Parliament could bring the king to heel; disunited, the king could play divide and conquer to his heart’s content.
The door closed. “This room is secure,” Peter said bluntly. The guests had insisted on checking the security arrangements for themselves. Given what was at stake, Peter didn’t blame them. “We can talk freely.”
“The king is no longer in his right mind,” Duke Rudbek said. He wore a suit that had been out of fashion for longer than Peter had been alive, but his eyes were sharp and his voice was clear. “This latest attempt to spy on us is a step too far.”
“To say nothing of his attempts to undermine the compromise,” Duchess Zangaria said. “He promised much, but gave little.”
“A trick made easier by your actions,” Duke Tolliver pointed out. He looked young, but his eyes were old. “You did everything in your power to ensure that the money would be given to your corporation.”
“So did you,” Duchess Zangaria countered.
“I know,” Duke Tolliver said evenly. “Let us be brutally honest. We all saw advantage in manipulating affairs to suit ourselves as individuals, rather than as a group. And we have paid a steep price.”
Peter nodded, stiffly. There had been no intention of simply giving the money to the liberated worlds. That would have been a bad idea. Instead, the money had been earmarked to pay for goods and services from the corporations. It would benefit the liberated worlds, eventually, but it would also benefit the corporations, making it harder for them to oppose the king. He wondered, grimly, if it had been deliberate. The king might have counted on the corporations allowing the money to divide them.
Or he might just have had a contingency plan for both possibilities, he thought. The king didn’t lack for either courage or cunning. We cannot afford to overestimate him any more than we can afford to underestimate him.
“We need to move, now,” Peter said. “Can we introduce a Bill of Impeachment?”
Israel Harrison cleared his throat. “We could,” he said. “But the problem would be getting it through the Houses of Parliament.”
“If all of us dukes worked together, it wouldn’t matter what the rest of the world thought,” Duke Rudbek growled. He glared at Peter. “Why weren’t the others invited?”
“Three of them have been playing their cards very close to their chests,” Peter said. “And Cavendish is . . . Cavendish is hoping the king can provide a miracle.”
“Which he can, if we give him free rein to spend money,” Duchess Zangaria said. “Without it, Cavendish is doomed.”
“That doesn’t give them much incentive to support us,” Duke Tolliver pointed out. He sounded more amused than anything else. “And if we happened to lose the vote, it could get very bad.”
Peter made a face. Israel Harrison would have to resign if he staked everything on an impeachment vote
