The Tainted Snuff Box Read Online Free Page A

quite in order despite the unnecessary delay,” the Prince said in a loud voice, firing the first volley.  Everyone quieted.
    William, the Duke of Clarence, or Silly Billy as the Navy man is called behind his back, is not someone I especially admire.  Uncivilized and fond of cursing as if he were still walking the decks of a ship, he rounded on his brother.  “Damn me, it’s not my fault the blasted magistrates interfered and the fight had to be held a goodly distance from Brighton.”
    Prinny’s lip curled.  “You insulted our hostess by delaying dinner over a pugilistic contest?”
    Everyone stood riveted at the sound of raised royal voices.  “I completely understand, your Royal Highness,” Mrs. Johnstone said, hoping to divert the two.  Her hands fluttered nervously about her diamond-clad bosom.  “Would anyone care for tea?”
    The Duke of Clarence was not to be distracted.  “Pearce beat Gulley.  It was a contest not to be missed,” he said with a look that plainly said his brother should be aware of the importance of such an event.
    Scrope Davies, a young fellow of my acquaintance who is mad for horseracing when he is not languishing in the arms of one of his many lady friends, piped up, “That’s so, isn’t it, Yarmouth?  No one thought Gulley could be bested.”
    Lord Yarmouth, who fancied himself an amateur pugilist, nodded.  “Earlier, Tom Cribb, the Black Diamond, beat William Richmond, the American Black, but it wasn’t much to see.  Neither one of them barely touched the other.”
    “I find prizefights deplorable,” the Prince said with heat.  “What kind of sport is it when men go into the ring, putting their lives at stake?  Their very lives, do you hear?”
    Everyone did, and to a man knew the reason why Prinny felt as strongly as he did.  No one dared voice the words.  No one except his brother, undeterred by the fact the company had formed an audience to the siblings’ exhibition of animosity.
    “What bloody nonsense!” the Royal Duke expostulated.  “Someone should have kept you in the nursery where you belonged that day back in ‘88 when Tyne gave Earl that fatal blow.  Might not have even been the damn punch that killed him, eh?  The blighter struck his head on the rails of the stage when he went down.”
    Mrs. Johnstone flapped her hands in her anxiety.
    The Prince, his face flushed, looked about to cry.  “Don’t remind me of it,” he moaned in an anguished voice.  “I haven’t attended a pugilistic contest since that day, and I never shall!  Barbaric competitions every one of them.”
    The Duke of Clarence looked at his brother in disgust.  “You’re all sensibilities, aren’t you?  Paying Earl’s widow and her brats an annuity, and look at you now.  Hiding like an overgrown baby here in Brighton over some blasted letters from someone too cowardly to sign his name.  Bloody hell!  Who the devil would go to the trouble of killing you, anyway?”
     

Chapter Three
     
    No one dared breathe.
    The Duke of Clarence had gone too far.  The brothers must be distracted before a royal scandal ensued.  I put down my glass and made as if to move toward the Prince, hoping a witty remark would spring to my lips and break the tension.  But little Lady Perry placed a restraining hand on my arm and stepped ahead of me toward the combatants.
    “Your Royal Highness,” she addressed the Prince in a strong, dignified voice, “Mrs. Johnstone has told me she will not allow her dinner party to end before you favor us with a song.  Please say you will.  Your voice is most pleasing, and we do not get to hear you sing often enough.  I know we would all enjoy hearing you now.”
    She turned toward the company in general for approval to this scheme.  A smattering of reluctant applause compelled the Prince to remove himself from his brother’s company without a backward glance.  I suspect some of the present guests were disappointed at the abrupt end of the