“I cannot dispute what you say, my Lord.” She paused. “My love.”
“It is decided, then. I will go to Kaitain and speak privately, or publicly, with the Emperor. It is time House Atreides receives the holdings and respect we are entitled to.” He pulled Jessica close, feeling her against him. She hooked a smooth leg over his, and they lay without moving for a long moment. They drank in each other’s presence like a rare and expensive wine.
“I go to Kaitain as the Duke of Caladan, and maybe I will become much more than that.”
Lines of worry furrowed her brow. “Beware of the corruption of the Imperium, though—especially now. The nobles are displaying their raw ambition, squabbling like dogs over bones. They are not your friends.”
He gave her a long, warm kiss. “I know whom to trust. And whom to love.”
* * *
AS HE THOUGHT of more ways to build a secure future for Paul, Leto returned to his private study and found the dossier Hawat had left for him. He began to peruse the candidates laid out, and he was sure someone else would be appropriate. No, more than appropriate … perfect for Paul. He studied the pages, remembering his long discussions with the Mentat and further conversations with Jessica, the negotiating, the consideration, the many Landsraad daughters who were available.
He picked up page after page, reviewing names, reports of marriage prospects, advantages and disadvantages of their families, read the marginal notes in Hawat’s shaky handwriting. This wasn’t all politics. Leto was determined to find a better marriage for his son. Fausto Verdun’s callous rebuff had, in fact, averted what would surely have been misery for Paul.
Leto pondered when everything had changed so dramatically. Had it truly only been a few months since he’d gone to Otorio? He remembered the glittering reception, the well-dressed nobles, all the historical artifacts displayed in the Imperial Monolith. Through the shock and turmoil, he hadn’t thought much about the chitchat, but now he did remember the hushed conversation, the mutterings about the Noble Commonwealth movement. He had been with Armand Ecaz and Lord Attik. He wondered if any of them had been coconspirators, although the grumbled words had likely been typical complaints about governments and bureaucracy.
As he studied Hawat’s list of potential marriage candidates, he recalled one of the nobles in that airy conversation, Count Dinovo, who had mentioned his own daughter of marriageable age when Leto broached the subject of Paul. Ah, yes, Dinovo had indeed escaped, one of the few nobles rushed away in time with Armand Ecaz.
Dinovo’s daughter had also come up during the earlier discussion down in his father’s fishing shack. What was the girl’s name? Something from ancient history, the Time of Titans. Hecate! Yes, that was it. Hecate Dinovo.
Count Dinovo had seemed pleasant enough, not arrogant like Fausto Verdun. Leto wanted to look at his daughter as a possibility, but as he flipped through the pages, he did not see an entry for Hecate Dinovo. He double-checked and wondered why Hawat would have removed her.
In the previous discussion, a couple of other names had been considered seriously, and they came to mind as well: Noria Bonner, Maya Ginia, or Greta Naribo. He searched for their listings, since they had been close runners-up in the previous round, and found Naribo but not the other two. His brow furrowed.
He had expected to make his own decision, but it seemed the Atreides Mentat was already eliminating good candidates without discussion. Wanting to hear more, Leto sent for Thufir Hawat, and within moments, the old veteran arrived.
“When I send my next letter of invitation, I want to make a better choice for Paul,” Leto said, tapping the report.
“Considering Duke Verdun’s rude response, that would not be difficult, my Lord.”
Leto held up the dossier. “I wanted to look further at Hecate Dinovo, but I see you have removed her name. What made her unacceptable after all?”
Hawat’s heavy brows drew together. “Hecate Dinovo? She was indeed a strong possibility, Sire. I did not remove her.”
“She is not listed here,” Leto said. “And what about Noria Bonner or Maya Ginia? They were also under serious consideration before.”
The old Mentat shook his head. “No, Sire. I assure you I included them with my recommendations.” He took the report and paged through it, then paused and turned back, scrutinizing the details. “My Lord, this has been altered. Some of these other marginal notes are not my handwriting. A clever forgery.”
Leto felt a sudden chill. Someone had tampered with the report? Right here in his office? It had to be a person from the household. Was there a spy in their midst, manipulating the choice of who would marry the Duke’s heir?
He turned as Jessica appeared at the doorway, smiling. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she wore an Atreides-green house gown with a softly glowing soostone brooch on her left shoulder. “Time to choose another candidate for Paul? Together we can find the best one. I have some suggestions.”
Hawat kept paging through the dossier, clearly astonished.
Leto looked up, feeling incredulous and angry. “Someone altered the report my Mentat delivered! It must have been done while I led our assault on the drug fields to the north.” His nostrils flared as he drew in a quick breath. “Here in my own house!”
Jessica paled, and Leto immediately sensed something odd as her expression became wary. She calmed herself and seemed to come to a conclusion. In a quiet voice, she said, “I … revised the list myself, my Lord. There were candidates I considered unacceptable, as we previously discussed. I wanted to save argument, especially after your recent trying times.”
Leto’s breathing quickened and his stomach lurched as this unexpected trapdoor opened beneath him. “Without consulting me?”
Jessica did not look away. “I had no reason to believe you would not take my advice. I was thinking of Paul’s best interests, as we discussed.” Leto could see she was intentionally being quiet, calm. Now she averted her green eyes. “My apologies, my Lord. I overstepped my bounds. You know I would do nothing to harm you or House Atreides.”
For a moment, Leto could not find words to respond. He wrestled with his storm of emotions, feeling as if some predator had dropped down out of a tree and attacked him.
The old Mentat quietly listened to every word and observed every detail. Leto would ask Hawat for his analysis later, but now he wrestled with his own feelings, his own surprise. He had never distrusted Jessica, never even imagined such a thing.
She remained silent, poised and beautiful with her chin lifted just slightly, exposing her graceful neck. A subliminal gesture of submission?
Leto barked, “Hawat, leave us!”
The Master of Assassins briskly departed without a word.
Leto rose and approached Jessica, who stood where she was, looking down. “Hawat says you forged his handwriting in the additional notes.” She didn’t respond. “Nothing? I suppose silence is better than a lie. Tell me what was so unacceptable about Hecate Dinovo? Or Noria Bonner? Maya Ginia? You could have talked with me about it.” Before she could answer him, he added, “I’ll have my Mentat verify whatever you say, and I will also have him re-create his original list, so I can verify every name that was removed.”
She was pale, but her voice remained calm and soft. “I have reasons that I considered sufficient. I am sorry that I am unable to justify them for you.”