Page 99 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"Blimey, you're suspicious. Very well, I'll show you." He parted his cloak to reveal a red coat with a lot of gold braiding and highly decorated lapels. The royal livery. "Now will you come with me?"
I relaxed my stance but didn't put my weapons away. "Why the subterfuge?" I asked the footman.
"My master is concerned about spies and newspaper men. The fewer people who know he has employed you, the better." He directed me to his coach. "Will you come now?"
"If I must, but wouldn't he rather wait for Mr. Fitzroy?"
"I was told to collect both of you or one of you if the other was unavailable. I asked at your house, but was told neither of you were at home. They think I left but I decided to wait here for the first conveyance to arrive. I recognized you from your visit to the palace." He looked me up and down. "Although you do look different in that garb. Now get inside before I freeze to death. Please."
He opened the door for me and I got in. He folded up the step and climbed up to the driver's seat. There was no one else either inside or outside the coach. The interior was appointed in the same colors as his livery, the luxurious velvet soft to touch. I removed my gloves and buried them in the blanket provided. Perhaps I could ask for soup at the palace, and hot tea too. I would certainly demand to sit by a fire. Surely the prince wouldn't mind once he saw my state. The bath would have to wait.
I should have asked if I could speak to Doyle first and leave a message, but considering the lengths the footman had gone to, I doubted he would have allowed me to go to the house. I hoped I returned before Lincoln. Perhaps the prince would allow me to send a message once I arrived at the palace. It was unlikely the meeting would go for very long anyway, if he only wanted a report on our progress.
A cluster of lamps burning brightly in the street caught my attention. I peered at them as we sped past, and frowned. The lights lit up the dour stone arch of the Kensal Green Cemetery. Kensal Green! But that wasn't on the way to Buckingham Palace.
My stomach dropped. I'd been tricked. We weren't going to meet the prince. The footman wasn't a royal footman, but someone wearing a disguise. And the longer I remained in the speeding coach, the further away from Lichfield Towers I'd be.
Chapter 14
Iplacedmy hands flat against the carriage window and looked down. Endless pavement and road slipped past, no grass or earth. Jumping out would break bones at the least and perhaps kill me. Escape was impossible.
I gripped the edge of the seat and bided my time. The coach eventually slowed to turn a corner and I prepared to leap out, but I changed my mind as we passed through a large iron gate guarded by two men dressed in great coats. It would be difficult to get past them.
We drove along a short drive to a mansion built in the formal Georgian style, but modest in size compared to Lichfield. Dark shapes loomed, some as high as the coach, but closer inspection revealed them to be topiaries. The estate was secluded behind high walls, and the house guarded by another two men who stood stiffly by the lamp posts either side of the steps. I should have risked jumping out earlier. My chances of escaping now would be minimal at best.
I gripped my knives in each hand and willed my heart to cease its pounding. I needed to remain calm so I could think.
The coach door was opened by a different man than my driver. I hardly even glanced at him before leaping out and racing back up the drive.
"Wait!" he shouted. "Miss Holloway!"
Other voices joined his, but one boomed over the rest. "Stop, Miss Holloway! It's only I, the Prince of Wales!"
I skidded to a halt on the gravel and glanced back. The prince did indeed stand near the coach, sheltering beneath an umbrella held by a footman. The footman who'd opened the coach door caught up to me, panting.
"This way…please…Miss Holloway." He indicated the house, the waiting prince, and the collection of servants watching me.
"Why didn't someone tell me earlier?" I growled, walking back.
I performed a small curtsy for the prince but it must have looked ridiculous, dressed as I was in boys' clothes. "Your highness." I did not repeat my question in his hearing, but he must have understood why I'd run off.
"I apologize for the subterfuge," he said as we headed into the house. His footman did not produce another umbrella for me, nor did the prince offer me his. Since I was thoroughly wet, it hardly mattered. "There are spies everywhere."
"There are? Have you caught one? What did he say?"
"Nothing like that. But I am certain there must be spies, and since this is a delicate matter…"
"Is that why we're meeting here and not at the palace?"
"It is."
Warmth hit me as soon as we entered the house. The footman with the umbrella melted away and two others replaced him, one taking my wet coat, cap and gloves and the other standing around doing nothing but staring ahead as if he couldn't see us. With so many servants about, the prince couldn't possibly expect this meeting to be kept a secret, surely. Or perhaps, to him, the servants were irrelevant.
He led me to a parlor off the entrance where a fire crackled. Despite the less than impressive proportions, the room was decorated in grand style with gilt leaves on the high ceiling, the walls and on much of the furniture. Crimson carpet offset the sage green color scheme of the furnishings and white marble fireplace.
"Is this your home?" I asked, and immediately regretted my question. Of course the prince didn't live here. It wasn't large enough, for one thing, and he must live at the palace, surely, since it would one day be his.
"Only when I crave privacy," he said, indicating I should sit by the fire. "When I feel as if I'm being watched."
