When he was forced to switch seats, it took everything in Claire to suppress a wide grin. Her father was right, of course, she wasn’t normally like this, but it had been well worth it to push his buttons.

The conversation was pleasant enough, though dull. She would have much rather stated [i]her[/i] opinion the economy, the war, and the country’s strengths…and weaknesses. Everyone thought England was so important and unbeatable. Well, how did that saying go? The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and she was working to help that happen. Of course letting anyone know she even knew what was going on in the war would be unwise, much less telling them what she had learned to believe over the past year and a half.

[i]“I have informed my son, Lord Abbott, about our plan to have them wed as soon as possible.”[/i]

Claire’s gaze snapped up, her hand pausing halfway to her plate. It was her turn to be quiet. Nick agreed, just as he had yesterday, but all of it reminded her even more that this wasn’t his idea. The sooner the better, though, that sounded great. Claire opened her mouth to speak when Mr. Rochford informed them of the location.

[i]“And the venue shall be at Westminster.”[/i]

The young woman’s eyes went wide; she didn’t bother hiding her emotions like Nicholas did. The queen and probably everyone she would ever need to get close to for information would be present. Even with the best disguise there was no way she would ever be a good informant. And when she was of no use to them anymore…that was when her life would be in danger.

“Father, no.” Claire swallowed hard, immediately standing up after his insistence. I understand why you’re doing this, but it’s not me. You know that,” she argued, her words becoming a plea. It’s just a wedding, it doesn’t need-“

“Just a wedding? [i]Just[/i] a vow you will keep for the rest of your life? Don’t tell me that isn’t important to you,” the duke challenged, doing his best to keep his tone calmed. “Sit down, Claire. I don’t understand where this is coming from. The dress, the flowers…you get to pick all that out.” The statement angered her, as if as a woman that should make her gleeful and solve all her problems. “Just leave the guest list to us.” When she shook her head, about to speak again, his voice rose. “Claire Elizabeth, [i]please[/i] do not make me remind you why this is so important.” His face was turning red, and Claire knew she would get nowhere speaking to him.

Nicholas was the one who had the real power here. She turned to him, still on her feet. “Nick,” she begged, reaching out to put her hand but an inch from his own. “Nick, please. I just want something small. Intimate. We can spend the money on whatever else you want.“ In her eyes was a hope that he would help, and with it a silent promise she wouldn’t make things difficult, would go along with whatever he wanted if he gave her this. “You can invite a few people, just don’t make it a crowd. We could have it at the church, or even here! It would still be nice. Please…”