A Royal Kiss and Tell

A soiree was hosted by the venerable Lord Russell, our new prime minister, to celebrate his party’s victory. The gathering included their Lordships Hill, Eversley and Wellington, as well as His Royal Highness Prince Leopold. Noticeably absent from the celebration was Lady Russell, who has not been seen much about since her return from Alucia. Rumor has it that the new prime minister’s celebration went on until the bright light of the following day, at which time several of the guests were seen departing the mansion, with perhaps the notable exception of a prince, who was said to have gone missing just after midnight. Speculation is that he was not alone when he went.

Lady Caroline Hawke, a perennial guest at such gatherings as this, was not on hand, as she recovers from an illness brought on by bad seas and poor London air.

Ladies, a concoction of one part arsenic to every two parts honey will soothe the sorest of throats and fevers.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and

Domesticity for Ladies

LEO TOSSED THE Honeycutt’s Gazette aside, and a hotel footman deftly stepped in to pick it up from the table. Leo scarcely noticed him, as the servants at the Clarendon Hotel had been trained to be almost invisible.

Leo had taken half a floor at the hotel on Bond Street, noted for its catering to aristocrats and dignitaries. His father preferred his second son to reside in a house, preferably with an Alucian ally, but Leo preferred the hotel. It was in the heart of London, and there was enough room for his staff, which included his palace guards, Kadro and Artur, his valet, Freddar, who doubled as a houseman in Leo’s private suite of rooms, and his private secretary, Josef Pistol. It was Josef who kept his ear to the ground around town and who’d brought him Honeycutt’s Gazette this morning.

Josef was sitting with Leo now in the library, on armchairs covered in rich leather and stuffed within an inch of exploding. They’d been served tea, and Josef was making quick, efficient notes about the week ahead in his leather-bound journal while Leo drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair, mulling over the bit of gossip from the gazette. The news was more than a week old, and yet, it still rankled Leo.

“Will you be calling on Lord Hawke today, Highness?” Josef asked as he jotted a note.

Leo wondered what else Josef wrote in that journal, always dashing off something across the page. “Yes, presently. Who watches me so closely, do you suspect?” he asked, gesturing in the direction he’d tossed the gazette.

“All of London,” Josef said blandly, as if he’d had to remind Leo of this several times over.

Obviously, Leo knew that his coming and going was noted and reported in morning papers. He was a prince and therefore a grand prize in the marriage mart. And in more than one country. He wasn’t surprised that it was widely known he’d been a guest at Lord Russell’s home. But what he did not expect was that anyone, besides Russell himself, would know how he’d slipped out that evening. He’d taken such care of it, too, asking the butler if he could use a service door. Evidently, he was not very good at skulking about.

Frankly, Leo was discovering that the only thing he was even passably competent at was enjoying himself. But when it came to serious matters, he was utterly inept. In other words, his worst fear was being confirmed—he was rather useless. This had been proven to him over the last fortnight, when, in an effort to at least educate himself about what Lysander had told him, he’d blundered through every turn.

“The carriage will arrive at half past two, Your Highness,” Josef said, and closed his notebook. “Shall I send someone to fetch flowers?”

“Flowers?” Leo asked. He was still thinking of the on-dit, of that night at the Russell house.

“For Lady Caroline.”