Page 6 of Of Fate and Phantoms
We exited the refreshment room, but couldn't catch sight of His Royal Highness through the throng. Everyone seemed to want an introduction. It took a good hour before the crowd thinned and we could see the man himself. He was a strong looking fellow, and handsome for his age, although his florid complexion and paunch told the story of his excesses. According to Lady Vickers, the Prince of Wales enjoyed the company of women, although not that of his wife, and drank champagne as if it were water. Sometimes, he even bathed in it, but only when he frequented Paris's exclusive brothels.
"There you are." Lady Vickers caught my hand as soon as Lincoln and I ended our dance. "Come with me, Charlie, and meet the prince before he gets too drunk and makes a play for you."
My eyes widened.
She waved her hand. "You've heard what he's like."
I turned to Lincoln, but the crowd had already moved into the space between us. Apparently he had no intention of following.
We scooped up Alice as we passed, tearing her away from the conversation she shared with Seth and four others, and advanced toward the prince and his friends like an army marching on its enemy, our steps sure and steady, our gazes focused dead ahead. We were out maneuvered, however, by Lady Harcourt. She was already there, her tinkling laughter floating on the drafts. The prince laughed too, his gaze not lifting higher than her heaving bosom.
"That woman," Lady Vickers ground out between her teeth. "No one breathes that deeply. She's doing it to show off her breasts. As if we haven't already noticed them."
"We can still meet him," Alice said.
Lady Vickers' brows drew together with determination. She scanned the room. "I wonder who his friends are. Where is our hostess when she's needed? I want to be introduced to them."
"We don't need to meet his friends," I said. "They're rather too old for, er…" I glanced at Alice again.
"For me," she said flatly. "They're too old for me. Thank you for your efforts in finding me a suitable husband, madam, but I think I can manage on my own."
Lady Vickers let go of Alice's hand as if she'd been stung. "No! You can't!" She glanced behind us to where Seth stood, his focus on Alice.
"I don't particularly care to meet the prince or his friends," I said before the conversation steered too far out of control. "But thanks for thinking of me, Lady V."
She jerked my hand hard against her side. I prepared to be dragged over to meet the prince.
But we never got the chance.
A heavily accented woman's voice pitched over the music. "I must speak! I must speak to prince!"
Everyone turned toward the voice. Dancers stopped mid-step, and the band quieted.
"Who is it?" the prince demanded, trying to peer over heads.
A tall, slender woman with waist-length gray hair and tanned skin broke through the crowd. No one tried to stop her. Everyone seemed too curious to see what would happen next.
The strangest reaction came from Lady Harcourt, however. She gasped then covered her mouth with her hand. She glanced past me. I turned to see Lincoln standing there, his gaze fixed on the woman. He'd gone pale.
The woman stopped short of the prince, whose friends now tried to block the woman's path. The prince shoved one of them aside. He faced up to the woman, keeping an arm's length between them. She tipped her chin, fierce defiance flashing in the depths of eyes as black as pitch. She was a strikingly handsome woman of about fifty years, with a strong jaw and cheekbones, and a slender figure. Her clothing, however, was modest, the practical boots well worn. Not a single guest would have chosen such a drab coat and humble skirt for their costume.
"Who is she?" he asked Lord Hothfield, standing beside him.
Lord Hothfield made a noise in the back of his throat, opened his mouth and shut it again without answering. He looked like a fish, gasping on the dock.
"You know me," the woman said. "I am Leisl. Your woman, long ago."
The entire ballroom fell silent. Not a shoe scuffled, or a nose sniffled.
The prince burst out laughing, but there was an uncertain hesitance to it. "You jest, woman. I wouldn't waste my time with you. Get her out of here."
"Thompson!" Lord Hothfield bellowed. "Thompson! Escort this dirty creature from the house."
A footman grabbed the woman's arm but she shook him off with a violent motion. "I came to warn you. I see you, Prince. I see your future. You are in danger."
The prince's laughter spluttered until it died altogether. His cheeks above his beard went white. "What kind of danger?"
His question was almost lost amid the hoots and howls from his friends. "Get the mad old bat out of here," one of them shouted.
