Page 4 of Of Fate and Phantoms
Lord Marchbank and the other committee members knew. No one else did, perhaps not even the prince himself.
"Theprince," Lady Vickers said, as if I was a dimwit for asking. "The Prince of Wales."
"I thought you already knew," Marchbank said heavily.
Lincoln didn't respond. "We didn't," I said. "This is a surprise."
Lincoln had never looked shocked at anything, yet his unblinking immobility was the closest to it I'd ever seen. He'd been caught unprepared for this meeting, something he loathed.
"I'm not sure I want to be introduced," Alice said. "Perhaps I'll wait here by the wall, out of the way. But Charlie should go."
"I insist." Lady Vickers' voice rose with her excitement. "Particularly if he brings some young gentlemen with him, if not the young princes themselves. They're the perfect age for you, Alice."
"Me!" Alice blurted out. "I'm just an ordinary girl."
"You're a beautiful, charming girl, just the sort to catch the eye of any gentleman. Charlie is too, of course, but we all know she's not available."
I studiously avoided glancing at Lincoln. Alice thanked Lady Vickers for the compliments but expressed a wish to avoid meeting the prince and his party. I agreed with her point of view. From what Lincoln had told me about the one encounter he'd had with his father, at another ball some months prior, the prince thought of women as playthings, there for his enjoyment. I didn't want my friend embroiled with a rich, titled scoundrel. I didn't want her going the way of Lincoln's mother—abandoned and with child. Alice had no family who cared for her, and we were her only friends. I would protect her from men like that. Fortunately, I didn't think I'd have any difficulty on that score. She was one of the most sensible girls I'd met.
Lady Vickers, however, seemed determined. She alternately begged and reasoned with Alice, until she finally gave up and ordered Alice to meet the prince when he arrived.
"There you are," Seth said, joining us, all smiles. Smiles which he directed mostly at Alice. His mother's lips tightened. It was then that I realized why she'd pressed Alice so hard to meet the prince. She hoped someone else would capture her eye—someone other than her son.
Perhaps she ought to be introducing Seth to eligible ladies, and not Alice to gentlemen. The infatuation seemed entirely on his side, not hers. From the small hint she'd given me, I gathered that Alice saw Seth as an amusing person, but she had no interest in him. He, however, couldn't take his gaze off her.
He thrust out his hand. "Will you dance with me, Alice?"
She paused. Her gaze flicked to his mother. Lady Vickers' nostrils flared. "I can't think of a single reason not to," Alice said, accepting his hand.
Lady Vickers watched them go then stormed off. Lord Marchbank had also disappeared, although I hadn't noticed him go.
I clasped Lincoln's elbow. "You don't have to go anywhere near him if you don't want to."
We stood side by side, watching couples assemble on the dance floor, neither of us speaking. A troubling thought struck me.
"You won't do anything foolish, will you? In the prince's presence, I mean."
His gaze slid to mine. "When have I ever done anything foolish?" At my arched brow, he added, "Disregarding the time I sent you away."
"And the time you kidnapped me. And when you—” I cut myself off before I mentioned the darker things he'd done. “Never mind." He was in no mood to be reminded of them or treat them lightly.
"I won't do anything foolish tonight," he said. "I won't speak to him at all."
"Then neither will I." I took his hands in mine. "You promised me a dance."
We moved to the edge of the dance area and waited for the music to end and another tune to begin. It was a waltz, and it necessitated us to be close to one another, much to my delight. As with everything he did, Lincoln was a very good dancer and made me feel like I was better than adequate, which was quite a feat given my lack of lessons.
We moved aside when the dance ended and made our way to the refreshment room. Lincoln retrieved a cup of tea for me but nothing for himself, then we fell into quiet conversation.
A few minutes later a woman dressed all in white with a white mask rimmed with seed pearls entered. Dark hair trailed down her back, stark black against the white, a tiara sparkling in the light from the chandelier. Voices rippled around her, following her path to the footman holding the tray of ices. I thought the chatter was because the cut of her bodice was too low, but then I realized it was most likely because the woman behind the mask was Lady Harcourt. Ever since her secret past as a dancer became public, society madams had snubbed her. Apparently Lady Hothfield had decided to make an exception.
I was in two minds as to whether we ought to acknowledge her when she spotted us. She didn't approach, however, but simply bowed her head in greeting, set down her ice without touching it, and glided out again.
"She'll probably ask you to dance later," I said to Lincoln.
"I doubt it. I'd wager she's given up."
"On you? Unlikely. Losing is not in her nature."
