"Tanya Huff - To Each His Own Kind" - читать интересную книгу автора (Huff Tanya)

Mr. March's scrutiny. Turning toward the American, he caught the pudgy man's gaze and held it. "Yes?"
March blinked, and the Count couldn't help thinking that even the horse on Piccadilly hadn't taken so
long to recognize its danger. It wasn't that March was stupid—it seemed that old terrors had been
forgotten in his new land.
"I was just wondering about your glasses, Count. Why do you keep those smoked lenses on inside?"
Because the prince was also listening, he explained. "My eyes are very sensitive to light and I am not
used to so much interior illumination." He gestured at the gas lamps. "This is quite a marvel to me."
Prince Edward beamed. "You will find England at the very front of science and technology. This…"
he echoed the Count's gesture, trailing smoke from his cigar, "is nothing. Before not much longer we will
see electricity take the place of gas, motor cars take the place of horses, and actors and actresses…" his
smile was answered by the most beautiful of the women seated across the room, "replaced by images on
a screen. I, myself have seen these images—have seen them move— right here in London. The British
Empire shall lead the way into the new century!"
Those close enough to hear applauded, and March shouted an enthusiastic "Hurrah!"
The Count bowed a third time. "It is why I have come to London, Highness; to be led into the new
century."
 "Gutt man." A footman carrying a tray of full wine glasses appeared at the prince's elbow. "Please try
the burgundy, it is a very gutt wine."
About to admit that he did not drink wine, the Count reconsidered. In order to remain un-noted, he
must be seen to do as others did. "Thank you, Highness." It helped that the burgundy was a rich, dark
red. While he didn't actually drink it, he appreciated the color.
When the clock on the mantle struck nine, Edward led the way to the card room, motioning that the
Count should fall in beside him. "Have you seen much of my London?" he asked.
"Not yet, Highness. Although I was at the zoo only a few days past."
"The zoo? I have never been there, myself. Animals I am most fond of, I see through my sights." He
mimed shooting a rifle and again his immediate circle, now walking two by two down the hall behind him,
laughed.
"And he'd rather see a good race than govern, wouldn't you, Highness?" Directly behind Edward's
shoulder, March leaned forward enough to come between the two princes. "Twenty-eight race meetings
last year. I heard that's three more visits than he made to his House of Lords."
The Count felt the Prince of Wales stiffen beside him. Before the prince could speak, the Count
turned and dipped his head just far enough to spear March over the edge of his glasses. "It is not wise,"
he said slowly, "to repeat everything one hears."
To his astonishment, March smiled. "I wouldn't repeat it outside this company."
"Don't," Edward advised.
"You betcha," March agreed. "Say, Count, your eyes are kind of red. My missus has some drops she
puts in hers. I could find out what they are if you like."
Too taken aback to be angry, the Count shook his head. "No. Thank you."
Murmuring, "Lovely manners," in an approving tone, March stepped forward so that he could open
the card room door for the prince.
"He is rough, like many Americans," Edward confided in low German as they entered. "But his heart
is gutt and, more importantly, his wallet is deep."
"Then for your sake, Highness…"
The game in the card room was bridge and Prince Edward had a passion for it. After two hours of
watching the prince move bits of painted card about, the Count understood the attraction no better than
he had in the beginning.
Just after midnight, the prince gave his place to Sir Thomas.
"It was gutt to meet you, Count Dracula. I hope to see you again."
"You will, Highness."
Caught and held in the red gaze, the prince wet full lips and swallowed heavily.