The Traitor and the Tunnel by Lee Y. S

Author:Lee, Y. S. [Lee, Y. S.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Published: 2011-09-29T09:47:31+00:00

Like yesterday, he wore a silk dressing-gown.

Unlike yesterday, however, there was a woman in the room. A tal woman dressed in the height of fashion, her bil owing skirts trailing over the arm of Prince Bertie’s chair. She drooped over the Prince’s form, one hand resting lightly on his chest, murmuring something intimate. She was graceful, intent, predatory. She was Honoria Dalrymple. And so focused was she that she failed to notice the door swing open, or the entry of a third party.

“Such an arrangement could be to our mutual benefit, don’t you think, dear Prince?” she murmured, her voice al honey and smoke.

“I – er. Hm. I – I’m afraid I don’t know what to say, er, Mrs D-Dalrymple.”

A husky laugh. “You should say yes. I assure you, you shan’t be disappointed.”

“But – but Mrs Dalrymple…” He was nearly panting – whether with excitement or anxiety, it was unclear. Probably both.

“But what, darling boy?”

“But you’re … you’re old!” The last word was wrenched from the Princely throat, a half-shriek of horror.

Behind Mary, the equerries burst into raucous laughter. Honoria’s and Prince Bertie’s heads swivel ed round, as they were alerted for the first time to their audience of three. Honoria blanched and toppled from her perch. He jumped up, uttering loud incoherencies and trying to help her up. She swatted away his fumbling grasp, pul ed herself up with remarkable dignity (al things considered) and swept past Mary with her chin held high.

A pair of sharp slaps, flesh on flesh, echoed in the corridor and Mary smiled. The louts had got a little of what they deserved, at least. Prince Bertie’s entire head was the colour of beetroot, his mouth slack and open as he goggled at Mary, at the tray she carried, at his stil -tittering attendants in the doorway. “My God. I – I – I don’t know what to say.” He col apsed into the easy chair, then sprang up again as though it had burnt him. Re-seated himself in a different, more upright chair. Cleared his throat. “Wel . Thank God you’re not my mother.”

His Highness was too discomposed to do much apart from drink his coffee and wonder at Honoria Dalrymple’s behaviour. This was a relief to Mary –

today would not be the day she had to fight off the Prince of Wales – but also a source of additional anxiety. How might Honoria retaliate against those who had witnessed her humiliation? Her influence over the equerries was dubious – louts they may have been, but they were wel -born louts. But she could certainly exact her revenge on a hapless parlour-maid, especial y with Mrs Shaw’s silent connivance. Mary’s prospects at the Palace were shrinking fast. And there was nothing to be gained in enlisting the Prince’s help. Even if she could make him understand her position, even if she paid his price, the young man was too weak to be of use. The only people who could help her, Anne and Felicity, were peculiarly, unusual y silent.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.