When Gods Die by C. S. Harris EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: C. S. Harris
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
THE ROYAL PAVILION, BRIGHTON, ENGLAND.
WEDNESDAY, 12 JUNE 1811.
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He knew she’d come to him. They always did.
His Royal Highness George, Prince of Wales and for some four months
now Regent of Great Britain and Ireland, closed the cabinet door behind
him and let his gaze rove over the swelling curves and exposed flesh of the
woman before him. “So you’ve had a change of heart, have you, madame?
A reappraisal of your hasty rejection of my offer of friendship?”
She said nothing, the flickering candlelight throwing the features of her
face into shadow so that he couldn’t read her expression. She lay with one
pale wrist curling provocatively over the gilded carving of the settee beside
the fire. Most people complained about the warm temperatures at which
George habitually kept his rooms, even on such a mild summer night. But
this woman seemed to relish the heat, her gown slipping artfully from her
shoulders, her feet bare and seductive. George licked his lips.
From the far side of the closed doors came the strains of a Bach
concerto mingling with the murmur of his numerous guests’ well-bred
voices and, from somewhere in the distance, the faint trill of a woman’s
high-pitched laughter. At the sound of the laughter, George felt his stomach
twist with a spasm of uncertainty.
Tonight’s reception had held a special lure, for the guest of honor was
none other than the dethroned French King Louis XVIII. But they came
here every night, all the snide, contemptuous ladies and gentlemen of the
ton. They drank his wine and ate his food and listened to his music, but he
knew what they really thought of him. They were always laughing at him,
calling him a buffoon. Whispering that he was as mad as his father. They
thought he didn’t know, but he knew. Just as he knew how they would laugh
if he allowed this woman to make a fool of him again.
Why wasn’t she saying anything?
Warily, George drew himself up tall, his chest swelling. “What is this,
madame? Have you lured me here simply to toy with me? To try to play me
for a fool?”
He took a step toward her only to stagger, one plump hand flinging out
to grasp the curving back of a nearby chair. It was his ankle, of course. The
thing was always giving way beneath him like this. He could hold his wine.
Better than most men half his age. Everyone said so.
The candles in the gilded wall sconces flared golden bright, then
dimmed. He didn’t remember sitting down. But when he opened his eyes he
found himself slumped in the chair beside the fire, his chin sunk deep into
the elaborate white folds of his cravat. He could feel a line of spittle
trickling from one corner of his mouth. Swiping the back of his hand across
his jaw, George raised his head.
She lay as before, one bare foot dangling off the edge of the settee’s
yellow velvet cushion, the shimmering emerald green of her gown sliding
seductively from naked shoulders. But she was staring at him with wide,
curiously blank eyes.
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