After receiving word from Kensington Palace that the proposal would be considered favorably, William Gladstone was being treated inside the Whig Party like a triumphant general returning from victory.
"Ha! Isn't this incredible? Mr. Gladstone, are you some kind of genius?"
"Honestly, who in the world could have come up with such a scheme? Our party was truly fortunate to gain you."
"Just imagining the Conservatives' faces turning pale makes me laugh."
"It's been years since we landed such a satisfying blow. The steak I just ate feels like it digested in five seconds! Magnificent!"
For years the Whigs had been on the losing side of nearly every political battle.
They lost elections.
They lagged behind in popularity among the public.
Even the royal family often seemed to favor the Conservatives over them.
So the satisfaction spreading through the party was immense.
"After all, we've just forced the prime minister's right hand—Killian himself—out of the cabinet."
"But what if the Conservatives oppose the marriage?" one member asked cautiously. "Her Majesty has already expressed interest, but the matter still requires Parliament's formal recommendation. If the Conservatives refuse…"
"Then we should thank them," another replied immediately. "We'll accuse them of prioritizing party interest over national interest."
"But what if Killian himself refuses?" someone else added. "The Conservatives could claim we're trying to force a man into marriage against his will."
The concern came from John Russell.
It was a fair point.
But Gladstone had already considered that possibility.
In fact, he was almost grateful Russell had raised it.
It gave him the chance to demonstrate just how carefully he had planned everything.
"Of course the marriage cannot proceed if the minister refuses," Gladstone said calmly. "Naturally. If the man says no, how could anyone force him to marry?"
He paused, letting the room settle.
"But the royal household has already said they will consider the matter positively if Parliament recommends it. That means the Queen has no objection to the marriage. In fact, it strongly suggests she is willing."
"Quite understandable," one member said with a grin. "Her Majesty is still a woman, after all. Tall, handsome, capable, charming—Killian Gore is about the best strategic marriage candidate imaginable. I wouldn't be surprised if foreign royal houses were lining up to court him."
"Exactly," Gladstone replied.
"But here is the crucial point."
He leaned forward slightly.
"If the royal household has expressed such enthusiasm… and the minister himself refuses—how do you think the Queen would feel?"
The room went quiet.
"I know how I would feel," Gladstone continued lightly. "I'd be so embarrassed I'd want to crawl into a hole."
A realization spread across the table.
"Ah… I see. If that happened, it would look as though the Conservatives and the minister had publicly rejected the Queen's proposal."
The current bond between the Conservative Party and the Crown was extremely strong.
And the man who connected them—
was Killian.
After all, he and Queen Victoria had known each other since childhood.
But if the marriage collapsed because of his refusal…
Naturally, a fracture would appear between them.
The royal family would drift away from the Conservatives.
And that would benefit the Whigs enormously.
If Killian refused, the Conservatives lost the royal connection.
If he accepted, he would be forced out of the Conservative cabinet.
Either way—
they lost.
A perfect trap.
"The net is already cast," Gladstone said with a satisfied smile. "All we have to do now is wait patiently and see which fish we catch."
Laughter erupted around the table.
"After hearing that explanation, I don't feel even the slightest worry."
"Truly a treasure of the Whig Party!"
"With Mr. Gladstone here, we might finally surpass Charles Wellesley."
"I'd say he's already one step ahead!"
Even Gladstone, who tried not to appear too pleased, couldn't help smiling at the avalanche of praise.
He raised his glass alongside his fellow members.
Joining the Whigs had truly been the right decision.
He felt a slight pang of guilt toward Killian, who had once pushed him in that direction.
But becoming royal consort wouldn't be entirely bad for him either.
He would live as a respected national symbol of unity.
And so the Whigs spent the following days eagerly anticipating the next parliamentary session, imagining the grim faces of the Conservative benches.
At last, the long-awaited day arrived.
Filled with the sweet certainty of victory, Gladstone and the senior Whig leaders entered Parliament.
Let's see how the prime minister and Disraeli react.
He already had a good guess.
They would try to delay.
They would try to stall.
But whatever excuse they offered, the Whigs were ready to counter it.
Engagement?
Postponement?
It didn't matter.
Every argument would be crushed.
"Honorable members."
To Gladstone's mild surprise, Charles Wellesley began speaking with calm composure.
"I believe everyone here knows what matter must be discussed first today."
"The Whig Party has proposed Minister Killian Gore as a candidate for royal consort, and the royal household has responded that they will consider the matter favorably should Parliament formally recommend it."
He paused briefly.
"In that case, there is little need for further discussion."
"The Conservative Party and I officially agree to nominate Killian Gore as candidate for royal consort of the British Empire."
The chamber froze.
"Furthermore, we believe this marriage should proceed as quickly as possible. I would like to ask the honorable members of the Whig Party whether they share this opinion."
"…?"
What did he just say?
Agree?
No—
not merely agree.
They wanted to accelerate the wedding?
William Gladstone had anticipated dozens of possible responses.
But this one—
had never crossed his mind.
For the first time that day, a ripple of genuine unease flickered across his eyes.
When the Whigs failed to respond immediately, Wellesley spoke again.
"Why the silence?"
"The Conservative Party has already agreed that Parliament should issue its recommendation today. Has the Whig Party changed its position?"
"N-no!" Gladstone quickly replied. "Of course not. It's just…"
Excellent.
They're rattled.
Charles Wellesley could almost see their confusion.
Their emotions were written plainly on their faces.
And that alone was proof they had already begun to lose their composure.
"There is no greater honor," Wellesley continued, "than seeing a minister of my own cabinet become the symbol of unity for the British Empire. I therefore wish to witness this happy occasion as soon as possible."
He smiled faintly.
"So what is the Whig Party's position? Surely it would look best if both parties united in recommending the marriage. If there are no objections, shall we proceed directly to a vote?"
"W-wait a moment!" Gladstone raised his hand hurriedly.
"We do support the marriage. However… if a sitting minister becomes royal consort, certain follow-up measures must naturally be discussed."
"Follow-up measures?"
"Well…"
Gladstone glanced briefly toward me.
"The minister would have to resign from his post. And he could no longer remain a member of the Conservative Party. These matters would need to be discussed."
"Of course," Wellesley said smoothly. "And since this concerns the individual directly involved, it would be best to hear his opinion."
He turned toward me.
"Minister Killian Gore. The Whigs have raised a valid point. What are your intentions?"
"I fully intend to follow the great traditions of the British Empire," I replied calmly.
"I will gladly do so."
Gladstone, Henry Palmerston, and John Russell all stared at me in stunned silence.
They probably thought I had lost my mind.
But the truth was simple.
This had never been a problem I could solve by pretending otherwise.
Better to give up what must be given up—and gain advantages elsewhere.
"I will resign as Foreign Secretary immediately after the wedding," I said.
"And I will remove my name from the Conservative Party rolls. Not merely in appearance—I will listen equally to the voices of both parties and maintain strict political neutrality."
"You… you truly intend to resign?"
"Of course."
I shrugged slightly.
"However, I am currently responsible for several major projects. I would like to remain in my position until the wedding in order to finish them properly. I trust that will be acceptable."
"Certainly!" Gladstone nodded almost reflexively.
"We have no objection to that whatsoever."
When he fell silent again, Wellesley glanced around the chamber and continued.
"Very well. As Mr. Gladstone suggested, let us discuss the necessary follow-up matters."
He clasped his hands calmly.
"This next issue is both crucial and delicate. If Minister Gore steps down, does anyone here feel confident in taking over his Irish policy in Canada?"
Silence.
"Anyone?"
"Well… we could recommend a suitable candidate…"
"Ah, I nearly forgot something," Wellesley added casually.
"Ireland's migrants continue pouring into Canada. Recently freed Black populations from the south have begun arriving as well. Whoever governs Canada must become the spiritual leader of these communities."
His voice softened.
"If that leadership fails, Canada could become unstable very quickly. In the worst case… the consequences might be irreversible."
And if such chaos occurred—
who would be blamed?
Obviously the man who replaced me.
And the party that recommended him.
After all, among Irish settlers and newly freed Black migrants in Canada, I was practically a living symbol.
Remove that symbol and replace him with some random English aristocrat—
all it would take was one small spark.
And discontent would spread like wildfire.
"Why the silence?" Wellesley asked pleasantly. "You mentioned recommending a suitable candidate. Surely that means someone has already been considered."
Gladstone swallowed.
"P-perhaps the Canadian issue is too delicate to decide immediately. Since it involves Irish migrants and Black settlers, perhaps we should gather opinions more carefully after the wedding."
"A reasonable suggestion," Wellesley said with a cheerful nod.
"In that case, until consensus is reached, Minister Gore will continue serving as plenipotentiary for Canada. After all, colonial administration across the Atlantic has little to do with domestic political bias."
He laughed loudly.
"Ha ha ha!"
"Ha… ha ha…"
The Whig members forced awkward smiles as they joined in the laughter.
The chamber was suddenly filled with cheerful faces.
What a heartwarming sight.
Even I couldn't help smiling.
Come now—
let's all keep smiling together.
After all, they say smiling brings good fortune.
Meanwhile, far from London—
the news was already spreading across Europe.
As diplomacy increasingly became a means of gathering intelligence, nations eagerly collected information about their neighbors.
France was no exception.
Louis Philippe I styled himself the "Citizen King" and had introduced constitutional monarchy inspired heavily by Britain.
Naturally, developments in Britain attracted his constant attention.
Reports flowed daily from London to Paris.
Among the officials reviewing them was France's foreign minister, François Guizot.
"Minister, an urgent report from our ambassador in Britain."
"Urgent? Has some crisis occurred?"
"Not exactly. It seems a major event is approaching. Queen Victoria's husband has apparently been decided."
"Marriage?" Guizot frowned. "I thought she had effectively declared she would remain unmarried."
"The Parliament recommended a candidate. Apparently the Queen concluded the marriage would greatly benefit the national interest."
A political marriage alliance?
But if it involved another royal house, France would already know.
Guizot unfolded the report and skimmed quickly.
"…What is this?"
His eyebrows rose.
"She's marrying a domestic noble? Minister Killian Gore… an Irish earl and English baron. I've heard his name often recently, but he seems somewhat… modest for a royal consort."
Perhaps Irish integration justified it.
But the English were not fond of the Irish.
In fact—
they often considered them socially inferior.
How could marrying an Irish noble possibly benefit Britain?
Was Queen Victoria simply captivated by a handsome man?
Guizot was about to scoff.
Then he read the next paragraph.
And stopped.
"…Previously believed to be of Irish–Asian mixed heritage. Recently confirmed to possess royal blood from Asia. A member of the royal family of Corée and a distant relative of the Shogun of Japon."
Guizot blinked.
"Wait… what?"
He reread the line slowly.
"So let me understand this correctly."
He looked up at the clerk, bewildered.
"An Irish earl, an English baron, the adopted son of a British royal duke… and at the same time a relative of the Korean royal family and the Japanese shogunate?"
He stared at the document.
"…Is Queen Victoria planning to marry a chimera?"
The clerk, of course—
had no answer.