Page 100 of Of Fate and Phantoms
I lifted my gaze to the footman standing by the door and the second one who entered carrying a tray with more things on it than two people needed. "Do you feel as if you're being watched now?"
"Now more than ever," he said.
"By whom?"
He dismissed the footman with a lift of his finger. "I wish I knew."
Both footmen left and shut the door, leaving us alone. If I had a reputation worth protecting, I would protest. But my reputation was ruined already, and Lincoln wanted to marry me anyway. He wouldn't be concerned if I met the prince in private, and nor was I.
"Please forgive this arrangement," the prince said, perhaps realizing how it must seem. "You are in no danger from me, and your reputation will remain safe. My men won't say a word."
"Thank you for your concern."
"Chocolate or tea?" He indicated the cups on the tray. "Cake or biscuits?"
"Tea, please, and cake would be most welcome."
He poured and handed me a cup and slice of butter cake then sat back with a cup of chocolate. He didn't look at all regal in his green and gold smoking jacket, open at the front to reveal a matching waistcoat, but his aloof bearing made up for the casual attire. There was little chance I could forget who I spoke to.
"Where is Mr. Fitzroy?" he asked idly.
"Watching the man we suspect is responsible for impersonating the late Prince Consort."
He lowered his cup to the saucer, and the angle of his chin dropped. "You have found him?"
"We believe so." I hesitated, unsure how much I ought to tell him. But he was our employer, the heir to the throne and, perhaps most importantly, a worried son. He should know what we'd discovered, if only to be reassured. "Mr. Fitzroy found the stolen picture of your father in the man's belongings. He plans on confronting the man tonight and questioning him about it."
"Who is he?"
"A fellow by the name of King. It doesn't seem to be his real name, but the one he now goes by."
"That tells me nothing.Whois he?"
"I, I don't know what you mean."
"Who are his relations, his friends? Do I know him, Miss Holloway?"
"I doubt it," I said. "He's originally from the East End, but now resides in Bloomsbury."
"I know a few authors and artists from Bloomsbury but none named King."
"His friends still live in the East End. They visit him occasionally."
He wrinkled his nose as if he could smell the foul stench of the rookeries. "Then how did he rise to Bloomsbury?"
"We don't know. Perhaps Mr. Fitzroy will discover the answer to that mystery tonight too."
"Yes. Good." He thumped the chair arm and gave an emphatic nod. "Hopefully that'll put an end to their rendezvous."
"Whose rendezvous?"
He looked as if he hadn't heard me, and I felt as invisible as one of his servants. But then the tension left his shoulders and he rubbed his forehead. "The queen informed me late today that she'd had a visit from my father's ghost, looking very much alive, as she put it."
"When?"
"Yesterday. She only told me about it a few hours ago, hence this meeting. I was going to put the wind up Fitzroy but that's not necessary now."
"Is the queen all right?"
