Katarina’s heart had not been racing from the dancing, but now it thumped hard beneath the unflattering red silk. The shouts outside—were they cheers or were they something more ominous?—swelled to a volume no one could ignore. All around her on the dance floor, steps were missed as heads began to turn. The musicians stumbled to a squawking silence; the spinning couples fell out of the waltz step and stumbled in their turn to an ungraceful halt. Half the guests were rushing for the windows. The other half stood still, waiting. At the top of the room, the Prince Regent seemed to be holding his breath.
A gaunt, grim-faced man appeared in the doorway. He looked like a ghost, white with fatigue, heavy bags under his eyes, his uniform stained with the mud and blood of the battlefield. Somethin
