AMUSING THE PRINCE / PROLOGUE

London 1702...

A knock on the door roused Pierre from his drunken slumber. He pulled the feather pillow down over his head, his long dark hair a tousled mess. Another knock forced Pierre to rise. It was still dark out from what he could tell through the window of the London flesh house he had taken up residence in. The second son of the King of France, Pierre’s life was a long drunken flash of decadence and excess, living the satisfying life of a coveted libertine.

He rose from the bed of the whore that had entertained him so skillfully the night before. He pulled on his light-tanned trousers as he headed for the door in a foul mood. The insufferable knock caused the woman in the bed to stir. Pierre opened the door and fixed an ageing Madam with a hard disapproving glare.

She was a woman of considerable age; her greying hair coloured a god-awful unnatural blonde. The lacy black dress did little to hide her feminine qualities. “Bonjour Madame Grandin. Is there some problem?” He asked, offering the older woman a strained smile.

“I am sorry to wake you, Your Majesty, but there is a messenger here for you. He insists that it is urgent,” she said, holding out a folded piece of parchment with the King of France’s royal seal.

Pierre took the parchment from her withered hand and broke the seal. “Merci.” Pierre read the message that was concealed in that parchment, and in stunned horror, he leaned against the door.

“Is it poor news, your Majesty?” The older woman asked with concern.

“I have been recalled to Paris. My brother is dead,” which left him next in line for the throne. “Madame, please see that my carriage is ready in twenty minutes. I will be leaving this evening.”