Work Text:
Miss Wellesley and Miss Jane Wellesley huddled their curly heads together and giggled in that nauseating way women do. Edmund, standing stiffly in attendance by the door, noticed with some disgust that Prince George seemed fascinated by the display. He'd been putting on the charm all evening, but as he was the Crown Prince, the ladies seemed willing to overlook it.
"Is it not high time we retire, Your Highness?" said Miss Jane. Edmund didn't blame her. Even he would sleep with George rather than listen to one more anecdote. At least it would be over quickly.
-
Edmund made the mistake of coming to work early enough to find Miss Wellesley still naked and in bed with Prince George. He closed the door to the bedroom with a quiet shudder at the copious display of genitalia.
Miss Jane, however, he found dressed, sitting in the drawing room chair rifling through George's correspondence. She started at the sight of him.
"Don't bother," Edmund told her. "I have all the juicy ones locked up in a safe place."
She recovered herself admirably. "You are very loyal."
"I am very practical," he said, and held his hand out for the letters. She sighed and relinquished them.
"You won't mention this?"
"That depends."
"We are in very dire straits, sir, my sister and I. A little security, such as royal protection..."
"Madam, I am entirely unsympathetic towards your troubles."
"Would it make a difference if I told you there were adorable orphans involved?"
"Not in the slightest."
"How about if I asked you to take a look at a curious mark on my inner thigh?"
"Is it in the shape of a big pile of cash?"
"Perhaps."
"Then, madam, we are heading in the right direction."
-
"It's deucedly odd how much royal protection one can offer," George remarked a few weeks later. "No matter how much I extend, there's always someone else who wants it, and I just never seem to run out."
"Renewability is an admirable quality in any commodity," Edmund said. "Its value, however, is in scarcity, which, I am happy to say, can be manufactured."
George wrinkled his nose. It really was fascinating watching a thought try to force its way through. "What?" he said.
"Here is your latest bill for stockings, Your Highness," Edmund said, handing him a piece of paper.