The Debutante (Season Series #2)

Chapter 40: Thomas the Puppetmaster

**A/N: I couldn't resist trying one out from Thomas' POV too...hope you enjoy it!**

I had to hand it to her, Elizabeth Marks-Whelan certainly knew how to ruin an afternoon. Her shouting match with Andrew continued as I paced the hallway, only to duck into my own room when I overheard my mother's approaching voice.

"...wait outside until I give the order. It will be up to the prince," she said, her voice passing my hiding place as she came to a stop outside Andrew's door. It banged open and the shouting paused.

I didn't wait to eavesdrop on the outcome. The moment Andrew had ordered Anne and I from the room was the moment I knew we'd lost. There would be no reasoning with him, not now that he'd gone down the rabbit hole of his own doubts. I felt my face screwing up into a grimace as I slammed a frustrated fist into the wall next to me.

Of all the people, it had to be Dorian. To him, it was just one more entry on the long list of jabs to the royal family, but to Andrew it was a blow that had tilted his world on its axis. My brother wouldn't be able to see clearly for some time now and with his upcoming announcement, I couldn't afford that. Straightening my jacket, I made my decision: it was time to take action.

Avoiding the more trafficked service corridors, I made my way down a familiar passage towards the debutante's wing. Titters and feminine voices filled the air, the lot of them preparing for dinner. I didn't bother to knock when I pounded open the door I'd been headed to.

One of the girls let out a scream, dropping whatever she'd been holding. It clattered along the floor as the older one drew herself up, clearly just as shocked by my sudden arrival.

"Your Highness, this isn't proper," she said, her trembling hands ruining her veneer of authority.

"Which one of you told him?" I demanded, rounding on the cousins. I deduced that the one sneering at me was the one James had jilted, while the one blinking prettily as she jutted out her chest was the debutante.

"Told what to whom, your Highness?" the debutante asked innocently, doing a poor job of covering herself with the robe she was wearing over her corset and bloomers.

"Cut the act, Canterbury," I snapped, "Was it you or your witch of a sister who betrayed Libby?"

I knew I'd hit a nerve when the jilted one shot an alarmed glance towards her sister. The debutante, however, was undeterred.

"Betrayed? How so?" she continued, that coquettish smile still in place. If I'd been a lesser man, I'd have slapped it off her face.

"Do you think you can outwit me?" I demanded patronizingly, infusing my eyes with that icy fire of mother's most dangerous glares, "Do you really think toying with me is wise? Because you may believe yourself to be invincible, but I can very easily ensure that both you and your sister enjoy the same spinster fate. No man will touch you, not after the whispers I'll spread."

That was enough to wipe the grin from her face. The jilted sister's chin had started to wobble, while the other two ladies-in-waiting stood frozen in place.

"What do you want?" the debutante snapped, tugging her robe closed now that it was clear she wouldn't be able to entice me.

"What did you tell him?" I demanded. She gave a little shrug of her shoulder and I beat down my frustration as best I could.

"I told him of the money troubles and her brother's expulsion," she said, adding petulantly "I hardly think that's damning enough to merit punishment."

"That remains to be seen," I managed through gritted teeth, studying her face, "What aren't you telling me?"