The Tainted Snuff Box Read Free Page A

whom I presumed to be the leader, shot a stern glare toward his troops lest one of the others dare find amusement at the Prince’s panic.  He then turned to stand at attention in front of his Royal Highness.  “How may I serve you, sir?”
    “Return to your stations,” the Prince ordered gruffly, allowing his quizzing glass to fall to his chest.  When the command was obeyed, and we were alone once more, he succumbed to a fit of trembling.
    I had not realized until that moment just how frightened he really was.  “Sir, please sit down.  Shall I ring for your valet?”
    “No, no,” Prinny said, his pale face as white as his cravat.  “Perhaps another glass of brandy, then I’ll make my way to my chamber to rest.”
    I hurried to get the drink for him, alarmed at his genuine distress.  He seemed to recover presently, though, and gazed again at Chakkri, who had strolled to a place by the fire, a position outside the range of the Prince’s polished boots.  The cat began licking his aggrieved tail.
    “Brummell, when did you obtain a cat?  And such an unusual one.  I’ve never seen the like.”
    I felt a different anxiety grow within me.  A nagging worry that the Prince, who collected beautiful objects, would take a liking to Chakkri caused my cravat to suddenly feel constricted.  “I have had him some weeks now, sir.  He was, er, left in London by a Siamese man who returned to his country.”
      Actually, the cat was a gift from one Mr. Kiang, who thought he had outwitted me in regard to a painting featuring a cat, but that is another story.  Mr. Kiang claimed that Chakkri, named after one of Siam’s great generals, exhibited a character similar to yours truly.  My dear friend Frederica, the Duchess of York, agrees, but I feel the notion is ridiculous.  I shall leave you to form your own opinions on the matter if you feel so inclined.
    “Odd-looking creature, what?” the Prince said.  “Rather like drawings I’ve seen of the raccoons that live in America.”
    Chakkri abruptly paused in the act of washing his long tail to look at the Prince.  However, when he did so, he failed to retract all of his pink tongue into his mouth, leaving about half an inch sticking out.  At the Prince.
    I turned a chuckle into a cough.
    “You are coughing, Brummell.  Are you quite sure you have recovered from your recent indisposition?” the Prince asked warily.
    “Yes, your Royal Highness.”
    He rose, saying, “I think I shall retire to my bed for a bit before dinner.  My guests are aware of those loathsome threats against me, but I don’t want to appear anxious in front of them tonight at the Johnstones’.”
    “Wise of you, I am sure.”  Relieved that the topic of Chakkri had been forgotten, I bowed low while the Prince exited the room.
    Then I poured myself a glass of burgundy, regained my seat and addressed the cat.  “Are you proud of yourself, you rogue?  Sticking your tongue out at a member of royalty, and, I might add, the gentleman whose kitchens are generously providing you with buttered crab and soufflés of partridge.”
    Chakkri licked a brown paw and used it to wash around his left eye.  His demeanor was one of complete indifference.
    “You have made it clear since we arrived here this morning that you do not care for being away from home—pacing, sniffing every piece of furniture, and muttering under your breath while shaking your paw in repugnance—but strive for a little decorum.  You are at a royal residence.  Have some consideration for your host, whose very life may be in danger.”
    “Reeooow!” Chakkri cried out suddenly, raising his wedge-shaped head so that his deep blue gaze met my grey one.  I felt a tremor of unease.  Call me a Bedlamite, but his tone was like an omen of impending evil.
    Devil if he did not have the right of it.
    * * * *
    Whenever he visited Brighton, Prinny could always depend on a loyal and hearty welcome.  All the town bells pealed at the