Page 8 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"Indeed," Lady Hothfield said. "What if she puts a spell on you?"
"Go." The way the prince barked reminded me very much of Lincoln. Both men were accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed, without question.
With a bow, Lord Hothfield retreated, gesturing for his wife to follow. She shot a glare at Lincoln then retreated with her husband. They passed Seth at the base of the stairs and headed back up to the ballroom. Lady Harcourt left too, her pace slower, her brow rumpled in thought.
"See that we're not disturbed," Lincoln said to Seth.
Seth nodded and headed up the stairs, taking two at a time.
The prince approached Lincoln as one would approach a dog of uncertain temperament. In Lincoln's current mood, it was perhaps wise to be cautious. He looked thunderous.
"You too," the prince said.
"No," Lincoln shot back.
I stilled. He dared disobey the Prince of Wales? "We know she's a seer," I said quickly. "We know a lot of things that may help in this situation."
The prince regarded me levelly for a moment. I thought he would order me to go too, but then he said, "Very well. Stay. Leisl, you shouldn't have come here. It's far too public."
"I cannot go to your palaces," she said. "There are too many guards. Where do you expect me to go?"
"That is not the point."
"No," Lincoln said, low. "The point is that she risked much to come here and warn you."
"Warn me?" The prince snorted. "Of what? That my dead father has it in for me? That's absurd." He squared his shoulders and stretched his neck. "Even if I believe that she has visions, it's still an outrageous claim."
"You believe," Leisl said before Lincoln could reply. "I know you. I read you…sire."
Had she been about to call him a different name, perhaps a more personal one that she used to use?
The prince stiffened. "This man." He jerked his head at Lincoln. "How do you know him?"
Leisl pushed to her feet. The fierce set of her jaw, so like Lincoln's, spoke of her cool determination, yet the slight quiver of her lower lip softened the effect. "I have just learned that he…he is my son."
So Lincoln had told her that much in their brief encounter tonight.My son, she'd said, notour.
"Fitzroy," the prince murmured, mulling over the name that meant son of a king. He looked at Lincoln anew. "How old are you?"
"My age is not the issue here." In centuries past, Lincoln's impertinent answer would be considered an offence worthy of a beating. Nowadays, the prince simply flared his nostrils in disapproval. "The point is, you treated Leisl abominably this evening. Apologize."
"I beg your pardon?" the prince spluttered.
"Apologize to her."
My breath hitched. Leisl sucked in her top lip and half shook her head.
"I will not!" the prince bellowed. "She charged in here, uninvited, frightened the other guests, then proceeded to spout off about my late father. Why in God's name should I apologize to her? It is she who ought to apologize to me." His gaze flicked to the woman he'd known intimately on at least one occasion.
"We have both wronged the other," Leisl said. "So long ago."
Lincoln opened his mouth, most likely to protest. As the only one there who had his best interests at heart—and I included Lincoln himself in that assessment—I decided to step in before he spoke. This little family reunion wasn't going at all well and he had the potential to make it so much worse.
"Water under the bridge," I said in a light, breezy voice. "Perhaps we ought to discuss Leisl's warning. I think we'd all like to hear more about it."
The prince narrowed his gaze at me as I moved to stand alongside Lincoln. "Whoareyou?"
I bobbed a curtsy then lowered myself a little more. How low should I go? I almost lost my balance as I stood again, but Lincoln grasped my arm and steadied me. "My name is Miss Charlotte Holloway," I said. "I'm a friend of Mr. Fitzroy's."
