After Victoria went into the room with the physician, I was instantly surrounded by the ladies-in-waiting who had accompanied her.
"Your Royal Highness! Congratulations!"
"I had a feeling we'd hear happy news soon!"
"Oh, the Lady of the Bedchamber will be absolutely delighted when she hears this!"
Even the ladies who normally maintained strict decorum now crowded around me like an excited wall of chatter.
Ordinarily the royal household observed rigid discipline.
But when such joyful news seemed imminent, excitement was inevitable.
"Ah—thank you," I said awkwardly. "But nothing has been confirmed yet, so perhaps we should wait a little longer…"
"Your Royal Highness, did Her Majesty mention feeling nauseous recently?"
"She did," I admitted. "But I assumed it was simply seasickness from the voyage."
Now that I thought about it, she had mentioned similar discomfort during the welcoming ceremony after we disembarked.
At the time I had dismissed it.
After all, we had only just stepped off the ship.
But could it really have been an early sign of pregnancy?
"Your Royal Highness," one lady said gently, "a woman's body is delicate. Especially with a first pregnancy."
"Her Majesty must be quite anxious. You'll need to take very good care of her."
"That's right," another chimed in. "If a woman feels neglected during her first pregnancy, she remembers it for the rest of her life."
"When I gained a little weight early on, my husband made a careless remark…"
"Good heavens! The count actually said something like that?"
"He did! Even now he goes completely quiet whenever I bring it up."
The ladies nodded solemnly.
"Please, Your Royal Highness—do not make the same mistake."
I had experienced countless extraordinary things in my life.
Marriage had been one of them.
But becoming a father?
That would be entirely new.
Truthfully, I knew absolutely nothing about it.
So I found myself listening intently to the ladies' advice.
A wife feels anxious during her first pregnancy.
Of course she would.
Still, I made a mental note to remember it.
Just as I was absorbing their advice, a footman who had accompanied Victoria returned.
He bowed and invited me inside.
My heart began to pound.
Surely this wouldn't turn out to be a simple case of indigestion after all this excitement.
But if it truly was pregnancy—
I had always known it would happen eventually.
Still, realizing I might soon become a father filled me with emotions I could scarcely describe.
Everyone would celebrate the news, of course.
Yet for me, there were still mountains to climb.
With those complicated thoughts swirling in my mind, I entered the room.
But the moment I saw Victoria's radiant smile—
Every worry vanished.
"Killian!" she exclaimed.
"I'm pregnant!"
"They say it's still early, but there are too many signs for it to be anything else."
The physician nodded.
"Yes, Your Royal Highness. I believe Her Majesty is indeed with child."
"In time the signs will become visible, but for now the most important thing is rest."
He turned to Victoria again.
"You must avoid any strain. Absolutely no overexertion."
Then he looked at me.
"Your Royal Highness should ensure that Her Majesty remains calm and comfortable."
"Her diet may need to change for the health of both mother and child."
"And naturally—tight dresses should be avoided."
"Long journeys must be limited, and Her Majesty must remain in a peaceful state of mind…"
The doctor continued listing precaution after precaution.
Some of his advice differed slightly from modern medical knowledge.
But one principle remained universally true.
Early pregnancy required extreme care.
Which meant—
Our first child would almost certainly be born in Canada, not England.
Had a British monarch's heir ever been born outside the British Isles before?
If so, it was exceedingly rare.
Canada had just received yet another extraordinary event.
After offering a few final instructions, the physician withdrew.
Victoria turned to me with shining eyes.
Even the faint moisture in them revealed how long she had waited for this moment.
"I'm pregnant," she said softly.
"We're finally going to have a child."
"You crossed the Atlantic while carrying the baby," I said.
"It's a miracle nothing went wrong."
"I know," she replied with a bright laugh.
"But perhaps it means this child will grow strong and healthy."
I had known Victoria for many years.
But I had rarely seen her this excited.
Perhaps only once before—
The first night we truly shared our love.
Considering her position, her emotions were understandable.
Not only was she experiencing the joy of motherhood—
She had also secured the future of the crown.
And when I thought back on the journey…
Crossing the Atlantic while unknowingly pregnant.
Remaining active aboard ship.
The realization made my heart skip.
Miscarriages were most common during the early weeks, if I remembered correctly.
I had once impersonated a doctor during a scam in my previous life.
But unfortunately, I had pretended to be a dentistry professor.
My medical knowledge was rather limited.
Damn it.
Why hadn't I pretended to be an obstetrician instead?
Still, from what little I remembered from television and the internet, most miscarriages occurred during the earliest stages.
The risk decreased dramatically afterward.
Proper diet.
Good hygiene.
Those things mattered.
But this was the nineteenth century.
Surely the royal household already maintained strict standards.
The realization that I was about to become a father slowly began to sink in.
I found myself strangely restless.
Victoria noticed.
Then she brought up the earlier topic again.
"By the way, we never finished discussing the protest to the United States."
"Oh? That?"
"We'll do exactly what I said earlier."
"We'll demand an explanation for why such an incident occurred while Her Majesty was visiting Canada."
"Perhaps we should emphasize that the Queen herself is pregnant," she said thoughtfully.
"That might make them even more flustered."
"That's true," I admitted.
"But the news will spread naturally."
"If we announce it ourselves…"
I hesitated.
Diplomatically speaking, it was an extremely powerful card.
But using my wife's pregnancy as political leverage the very moment we learned of it…
That felt a little questionable.
Truthfully, I wanted to do exactly that.
But the ladies had just warned me how sensitive women could be during their first pregnancy.
For now, the wisest course was simple.
Agree with everything she said.
Victoria must have noticed my hesitation.
She laughed softly.
"Killian."
"I may be your wife and the future mother of your child."
"But before that—I am the Queen of the British Empire."
"If this situation can bring great benefit to our country, I see no reason not to use it."
"…Are you certain?"
"Of course."
"So don't hold back."
"Do what you do best."
"After all," she said warmly, "I know better than anyone how capable my husband truly is."
In other words—
Her Majesty had granted permission to use not only herself, but even the child in her womb, in a political maneuver.
When someone placed that much trust in you—
Naturally, you wanted to deliver the best possible result.
Very well.
If my beloved wife wished to see my talents firsthand—
I would give her the best seat in the house.
Allan Pinkerton
The year 1842 had already proven turbulent for both the United States and Canada.
Among the men navigating that chaos was Allan Pinkerton.
The Scottish immigrant took a deep breath to steady his racing heart.
After joining the detective agency run by James, Pinkerton had quickly distinguished himself.
He eventually rose to oversee operations in the United States.
He never forgot the reason for his success.
James had recognized his talent.
Without that recognition, Pinkerton would never have gained such experience—or wealth—at such a young age.
In truth, Pinkerton had once been quite confident in his own abilities.
Working under James had taught him humility.
Or rather—
Forced humility upon him.
After all, who was James?
A business titan who owned Britain's two largest detective agencies.
A man with interests in coal mines, breweries, railways, and real estate.
Even during America's financial crises, he had expanded his empire by acquiring locomotive companies and mining operations.
And he had pushed into Canada as well, dominating the Great Lakes region.
There were even rumors his capital would fund a transcontinental Canadian railway.
Few British aristocrats possessed wealth to rival his.
To witness such a man firsthand—
How could one feel anything but admiration?
Pinkerton idolized James.
He worked tirelessly to follow in his footsteps.
Which was why James eventually entrusted him with the American office.
But recently—
Pinkerton had learned something unbelievable.
"You'll eventually lead our entire American detective network," James had told him.
"So it's time you learned the truth."
"The real owner of this company isn't me."
"…What?"
At first Pinkerton assumed it was a joke.
The agency itself had originally been called James Detective Agency.
How could James not be its owner?
The truth was even more shocking.
James served someone else.
Someone far greater.
That person was Killian Gore, Duke of Kent–Dublin and husband to the Queen of the British Empire, the Prince-Consort.
At first Pinkerton simply could not believe it.
But after several days—
He realized something else.
If Killian himself had taken an interest in him…
Then Pinkerton had just received the greatest opportunity of his life.
Meeting Killian
"Welcome," Killian said with a friendly smile.
"So you are Allan Pinkerton."
"I've heard quite a bit about you from James."
Pinkerton bowed deeply.
"Your Royal Highness! It is an honor!"
"I swear to devote my entire body and soul to fulfilling your expectations—"
Killian laughed lightly.
"There's no need to sound like a soldier."
"You're the one who dealt with those slave hunters who crossed the border, correct?"
"Yes, Your Royal Highness!"
"You handled the aftermath quite well."
"The staging of injuries on our side was convincing too."
Pinkerton looked up.
Standing before him was a handsome young man wearing the uniform of a naval admiral.
Killian was actually one year younger than Pinkerton.
But there was nothing youthful about him.
His presence carried the weight of immense achievements.
Killian Gore.
Duke of Kent–Dublin.
the Prince Consort.
And the hidden master of a vast commercial empire spanning Britain, Canada, and the United States.
Killian glanced through the report on the slave-hunter incident.
Then he extended his hand.
"I'm considering placing both the American and Canadian detective operations under your command."
"Do you think you can handle that?"
"M-me, Your Royal Highness?"
"James recommended you very strongly."
"He claims there's no one better suited to the job."
Pinkerton remembered James's words before he left.
"I've already spoken to His Royal Highness about you. Just go there and promise to work hard. Do you realize what kind of opportunity this is? Your life's about to change."
At the time, Pinkerton had been unsure.
Now he understood.
This was the chance of a lifetime.
To become a trusted agent of the man who might one day control the world from the shadows.
"I accept!" Pinkerton said firmly.
"I will dedicate every ounce of my ability to serving Your Royal Highness!"
Pinkerton was prepared to devote his entire life to the man who had recognized his worth.
Had he known how literal that devotion would become—
He might have hesitated.
But unaware of the future that awaited him—
Allan Pinkerton felt nothing but joy.