A Royal Kiss and Tell

“Don’t try to tell me what he is, Caroline! I know what he is and what he does.”

Caroline suspected she might, too. Last night when they’d arrived, Henry had whisked Beck and the prince away, as if Caroline and Augusta didn’t exist. When she’d mentioned it to Beck, he’d said it was because Augusta wanted nothing to do with Leopold, and really, did Caroline want to sit with the gentlemen while they smoked cigars and talked about masculine things?

“What are masculine things?” she’d asked.

Beck had frowned. “Masculine things. Use your imagination, Caro.” He’d tapped her head with two fingers and had left her to spend the day with a miserable Augusta.

“The dressing gown is beautiful,” Augusta said, stroking the embroidered placket.

“The embroidery is Martha’s work. She’s taught me quite a lot,” Caroline said. “She worked on it while I sewed the hem.”

“I never knew you had any talent,” Augusta murmured.

Caroline laughed. “Neither did I. But last summer, I couldn’t find a modiste who was willing to make a train like the Alucians wear. I’ve always been fairly good with a needle and thought I’d try. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be,” she said with a shrug.

The door to the salon opened, and a young maid entered, carrying a tray with tea service. She misstepped; the pot clattered against one of the cups.

Augusta took one look at her, and her expression turned dark. “For God’s sake, don’t be stupid.”

The way she snapped at the maid surprised Caroline. She’d never heard her speak so ill to a servant.

“I beg your pardon, milady.” The young woman spoke with a slight accent and seemed terrified of Augusta. She put the tea service on a table, then passed close to Caroline to collect a used glass. That’s when Caroline noticed something else about her—a tiny patch of green on her collar. Was that bit of color a coincidence, or was she Weslorian?

“Will you need anything else, milady?”

“No. Leave us,” Augusta said coldly.

The maid practically fled the room, and when Caroline turned back to Augusta, wondering what she ought to say, Augusta surprised her again by bursting into tears. “Augusta!” Caroline cried, and went at once to her side, dropping to her knees beside her. She took Augusta’s hand between both of hers. “What on earth troubles you?”

“That’s her,” Augusta said tearfully. “That’s the girl, the maid Henry is sleeping with.”

“You must be wrong, Augusta. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. Henry would never.”

“He would! He thinks I don’t know, but they all talk, the servants whisper, and I hear them. She sleeps in a room off the kitchen, and twice now, I’ve caught him coming up the kitchen stairs wearing nothing but his nightclothes. He doesn’t come to me—he goes to her.”

“Augusta,” Caroline said softly. But she couldn’t find words that meant anything. What Augusta described was the worst thing she could possibly imagine and perhaps the very thing she expected. “I don’t...men are...well, they’re beasts,” she said, unable to find the appropriate word for the Duke of Norfolk.

“That’s why I don’t want him here,” Augusta said as tears slid down her cheeks.

“Henry?”

“No, the prince! You were right about him, Caroline. He’s a rake, and I think he has influenced Henry. They were mates in school, you know. They have a long history. And from what you said, I began to think on it. They’ve been hunting, and they go round to the gentlemen’s clubs. I heard the prince went to a brothel, and took a girl away from it,” she said, whispering the word. “He probably dragged Henry along.”

Caroline stared at Augusta. She had not a single word to offer in the prince’s defense. She’d heard all the same, but he didn’t strike her as the type to drag others into his corruption. “I’m so sorry, Augusta.”

Augusta turned in her chair and gathered a pillow to her chest and bent over it as best she could and sobbed.

Caroline slowly stood and went to the window. She looked down at the bucolic scene again. Henry was sleeping with that very young maid? Leopold was dragging his friends to brothels? She looked at him, so at ease. He was sitting on the grass now, his legs stretched before him, and the girls were climbing on him. It was hard to look at him now and picture that side of him. It was harder to understand what would drive a man to that sort of behavior. It made her stomach turn a little. Did he kiss those young women like he’d kissed her? Did he smile at them as he smiled at her?