@beauchampx */ 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓
whilst his wife reunited with her russian relations, the prince of wales was at the liberty to spend his night as he was habitually wont to do ––– gambling, drinking, and, of course, a good deal of disparaging the nevilles. expertly shuffling a deck of cards in his hands as the door to the private apartments swung open, the gentlemen in the room turned their eyes to the lady who appeared shortly thereafter: elizabeth beauchamp, countess of richmond. albeit fond of lizzie, perhaps undeservedly so, his upper lip curled at the reminder that she’d assumed his lady grandmother’s title. to soften the repeat bruise, he drained the last of his goblet’s contents, a satin stain already lingering upon his lips from the wine he’d consumed.
promptly, and without a moment’s notice, the prince rose to his feet and swung his arms wide, boisterously announcing –– “gentlemen...” another swig of his wine, “allow me introduce you to the woman who has accomplished the impossible and made an honest man out of my half brother, the earl of richmond.” harry meandered toward elizabeth, cheeks ruddy. “is he much accomplished, my lady, or has his life of excess...” the prince trailed off, picking right back up again –– “does he perform well as your husband, lizzie? or do your dreams of the sultanate’s desert keep you warm at night?”