Malice at the Palace

by Rhys Bowen

  “Six,” the croupier called, pronouncing it in the French way, and pushed a stack of tokens toward me.

  “Well done,” Marina said.

  “Beginner’s luck.” I blushed.

  Glasses of champagne were brought to us.

  “It’s warm in here,” Marina said, shifting her mink wrap to her arm.

  “Would you like me to hang up our wraps in the cloakroom?” I asked.

  “Good idea. Thank you.” She handed hers to me. One of the employees sprang into action. “Here, let me take those for you, my lady.”

  “It’s quite all right,” I said. “I need to powder my nose anyway.” And I carried the wraps out of the room, back into the foyer. The manager was nowhere to be seen, but there was a man in a rather splendid uniform waiting by the front door. He was facing outward, not toward me. I let my wrap fall over the guest book, then swept it up and walked swiftly into the ladies’ room. Of course there was an attendant so I had to flee into one of the stalls before I looked at the book. About a week ago, it must have been. I leafed through the pages until I spotted Belinda’s name. And Bobo Carrington’s. And, a few lines above, one J. Walter Oppenheimer of Philadelphia, guest of Sir Toby Blenchley.

  So Sir Toby had been there that evening, as well as this Mr. Oppenheimer, who had somehow upset Bobo. Then I glanced down the rest of the page and saw another signature—bold and black. Hon. Darcy O’Mara. Kilhenny Castle. Ireland. So Belinda had been going to tell me that she’d seen Darcy and Bobo together. I hurried out of the cloakroom and deposited the book back on the table without being seen.

  J. Walter Oppenheimer, guest of Sir Toby, I muttered to myself, making sure I remembered the name. Right. Concentrate, Georgie. You are now going to go in there and have a good time. I came into the gaming room with my head held high and joined Marina at the table.

  “Look, I’ve won ten pounds.” Marina beamed at me. “Isn’t this fun?”

  I took a glass of champagne and put a pile of jetons on the board without actually bothering where. The wheel was spun again.

  “Trente-deux,” the croupier called out in French and pushed a considerable number of tokens in my direction.

  “Georgiana, you are so lucky,” Marina exclaimed.

  “Oh yes,” I said. “So lucky.” And I turned away so that she couldn’t see the bleak despair on my face.

  It was a night of irony. I won quite consistently. The pile kept growing. Strange men hovered around me, encouraging and congratulating. It should have been a heady experience to be the life of the party at Crockford’s.

  “Why haven’t we seen you here before, you gorgeous creature?” a smooth young man said to me.

  “You’re Binky’s sister?” another asked. “We had no idea Binky had such a divine sister. Has he been hiding you away? You have to come to a hunt ball with us next weekend. The Bedfords are giving it.”

  “I’m afraid I’m helping to look after Princess Marina until her wedding,” I said.

  “Oh yes. The wedding. I’d forgotten that. So old George is finally getting hitched. What a riot, eh, Monty?” And the two men laughed.

  “Can we take you in to supper?” one of them asked. “They do a slap-up good meal here.”

  “Thank you. I think I’ve pushed my luck enough for one night,” I said. “But I think I’d better go and cash these in first.”

  “We’ll help you.” My two new suitors picked up my tokens and carried them for me to the cashier.

  “Would you please keep my winnings for me until I’m ready to go?” I asked. “I’m about to have supper and I’ve nowhere to put money in this purse.”

  “Of course, my lady.” His face betrayed no reaction at all.

  “I should check on Princess Marina,” I said. “I shouldn’t leave her alone.” I was trying to think of a way to have her asked to supper too, but one of them beat me to it.

  “Ask her to supper too, eh, Monty?”

  “Oh rather,” Monty agreed. “Old George would want us to take care of his intended.” And they both grinned as if this was a good joke. I suspected they had seen George at Crockford’s with many different partners over the years, and I rather wished that I had had more time to examine that guest book and see exactly whose name had appeared next to his.

  I went in search of the princess, who was now playing vingt-et-un, and told her we’d been invited to supper by two young men.

  “How terribly sweet of them.” She stood up from the table. “Frankly, I think I’ve tired of gambling for tonight. I don’t seem to be winning recently. And supper with two nice young men does sound like fun. It might make George jealous.”

  Our escorts were waiting and introduced themselves formally as Monty and Whiffie. We never did find out what Whiffie’s real name was but we had a merry supper. I could see why Belinda liked it here. It was a world of fantasy. And I realized I had two habitués at my fingertips, who knew the club well.

  “Did you happen to meet an American man who came here with Sir Toby last week?” I asked.

  “With Sir Toby? Tall, serious sort of chap, wasn’t he?” Monty frowned, trying to picture him. “Didn’t seem to be having fun at all.”

  “I heard he had some sort of argument with Bobo Carrington,” I said.

  “You’re right, Bobo was here that evening. But I didn’t see any kind of confrontation. She was only here briefly. Actually we hadn’t seen her in ages, had we, Whiffie, old thing?”

  “That’s right,” Whiffie replied. “We commented on the fact. Someone said, ‘Bobo’s come back into circulation, I notice,’ and we had a bet as to who she’d make a beeline for. But next time we looked around, she’d gone again.”

  “And the American man too?”

  “No, I think he stayed on. At least, Sir Toby did.”

  “So you haven’t seen Bobo with anyone else recently?”

  “Haven’t seen her at all. She must have been on the Continent.”

  “Sir Toby went to America. Perhaps she tagged along,” Whiffie said. “I know his wife stayed home.” They exchanged another grin.

  “Sir Toby? Was Bobo involved with him?”

  “So rumor had it. Of course he was always very careful in public. Got an image to live up to, what?” The two men laughed.

  “Sir Toby Blenchley?” Marina asked. “Is he not a member of Parliament here?”

  “Cabinet minister, old thing—I mean, Your Highness.”

  Marina looked around the room, where various couples sat together at tables. “I suppose powerful men do not always behave as they should,” she said thoughtfully. I wondered if she was wondering about rumors she had heard of her future husband. Irmtraut had definitely heard them and might have spilled the beans.

  Our table companions also picked up her troubled look. “Well, it’s one thing to play the field before marriage,” one of them said, “but when one is a cabinet minister, I mean, dash it all . . .”

  I digested this new fact. Sir Toby Blenchley, he who preached the sanctity of the family, had had Bobo Carrington as his mistress. Who had more to lose than he if this fact became known?

  Monty and Whiffie were good company and we laughed a lot over oysters and smoked salmon and soufflés. It was getting late by the time they brought our coffees. I tried to stifle a yawn, but Marina saw it. “We should be going,” she said. “I have a busy day tomorrow. Another fitting for my dress, and then I’m meeting my parents off the boat train.”

  “Your parents are arriving? Where will they be staying?”

  “They were invited to stay at Buckingham Palace with the king and queen, but they wanted something a little less formal, so they’ve opted for the Dorchester instead.”

  I tried to picture a life in which the Dorchester counted as less formal. I smiled. “How lovely for you to have them here.”

  “I’m not so sure. Mummy and m
y sisters will want to come shopping with me and I rather enjoy our adventures alone, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do, but I think it’s a mother’s prerogative to help her daughter choose her trousseau.”

  She nodded. “I suppose so. But we’ll still make time for evenings out without them. This was fun tonight.” She beamed at our escorts. “Thank you both. I’m rather sad, now, that I’m getting married with such delightful company in London.”

  The two boys had the grace to blush. We got up to leave. Whiffie and Monty escorted us into the foyer and sent for our car.

  “So you’ve promised we can see you again as soon as this blasted wedding business is over,” Monty said to me. “You will come to a hunt ball?”

  “That will be nice,” I replied as he put my wrap around my shoulders.

  The manager appeared. “Thank you so much for gracing us with your presence, Your Royal Highness,” he said, bowing unctuously. “Allow me to escort you to your car.” He ushered her out of the front door. I was about to follow when an employee tapped me on the shoulder. “I was told to remind you to collect your winnings, Lady Georgiana. They are being held for you. Please follow me.”

  My winnings, of course. How silly of me. It just shows what too much champagne and brandy can do to the brain. I was escorted across the gaming room.

  “I was told that they were being held for you in here,” he said and opened a door for me. I stepped into one of the small private gaming rooms with a baize table in its center. While I was taking this in, and looking for where my winnings might be, I heard the click of a latch as the door was closed behind me.

  I spun around. Darcy was standing in front of the door.

  Chapter 24

  VERY LATE ON NOVEMBER 7

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded angrily. “I thought you’d be in a dungeon in the Tower of London by now.”

  He grinned. “I might say the same for you.”

  “It was quite obvious I had done nothing wrong,” I said haughtily. “Now please open this door immediately. Princess Marina is waiting for me.”

  He put a restraining hand on my shoulder. “The princess has been sent home without you. She has been told you have met an old friend and will be following in a separate car.”

  “You had no right to do this!” I tried to get past him to the door handle. “Now let me out of here or I’ll scream the place down.”

  “I don’t think you’d want to cause any unpleasantness,” he said. “Think of the scandal. Your family wouldn’t approve.”

  “This is kidnapping,” I said. “I’ll report you to DCI Pelham. He can add it to your other crimes.”

  “I rather think not.” Darcy smiled now. “In fact I’ve been asked to keep an eye on you.”

  “DCI Pelham thinks you’re a slippery customer. He told me so.”

  “DCI Pelham doesn’t know very much. Luckily someone high up in the Home Office came to my rescue and had me released, or I’d still be in a cell. I couldn’t tell Pelham exactly what I was doing, you see.”

  “With Bobo Carrington? I should think that was rather obvious.”

  He actually laughed then. “You are adorable, Georgie. Do you know that?”

  “No. I’m naïve and stupid,” I said. “I know nothing about drugs or people like Bobo Carrington. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m going to do my duty and marry a young man of impeccable background and forget all about you.”

  “Georgie,” he said softly. “When you asked me if I’d slept with Bobo Carrington, I was caught off guard. I did sleep with her, but that was several years ago. Long before I met you.”

  “Several years ago, or one year ago?” I demanded.

  He shook his head. “No, I am not the father of her child, if that’s what you’re wondering. I believe we slept together a couple of times when I was newly arrived in London. The way one does.”

  The way one does. Those words rattled around in my head. How easy it seemed to be for other people. “But your dressing gown. I saw it behind her door.”

  “That’s actually quite simply explained,” he said.

  “Really?” I gave him my best sarcastic look.

  He nodded. “I need somewhere to stay when I’m in London. Bobo lets me use her flat sometimes, when she’s out of town. I left my dressing gown behind once. She said it was cozier than hers and she was keeping it in payment for using the flat.”

  “Oh,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Part of me was thinking that this was highly plausible and part was reminding me that Darcy was Irish and had the gift of the gab. I wanted to believe him. I was trying to believe him. “So you are trying to tell me that you haven’t been near her recently?”

  “I haven’t been near her recently, at least not in the way you mean.”

  “But you were seen at Crockford’s with her.”

  “Ah. That’s true. We did bump into each other at Crockford’s.”

  I turned to look at him, noticing that his eyes were smiling and he was so devilishly handsome. But I was going to be strong this time. I would not be swayed by Irish charm and good looks. “And the DCI thinks you’re involved in drugs and the underworld. What have you got to say about that?”

  “Well, he’s not wrong,” he said.

  “Aha. I knew it. And he suspects Bobo’s death might be tied to her drug use and to her dealings with drug suppliers.”

  “Actually I have been involved,” he said. “But not in the way you think. This is to go no further, Georgie, but I’ve been shadowing people like Bobo because I was assigned to find the kingpin. We know who the small dealers are, but we are still not sure how cocaine is getting into this country in such large quantities.”

  “Oh,” I said. “And you suspect that Bobo might have had something to do with it?”

  “Possibly,” he said. “She certainly seemed to have an apparently inexhaustible supply of cash, even when she was not with a particular man. It had to come from somewhere. I was hoping to get back into her confidence, when she was killed.”

  “So someone killed her to prevent her from giving away secrets to you?”

  “I don’t know. The timing was rather coincidental, don’t you think?”

  There was a long pause. I still wasn’t ready to forgive him completely. “So how do you think I feel, knowing that you were in London and you didn’t try to contact me, but you were going to clubs with people like Bobo Carrington?” I said. “Or am I too dull for such outings?”

  “Contact you?” His voice was sharp now too. “My dear girl, as soon as I returned to England I wrote to Castle Rannoch, asking them to forward the letter. I telephoned several times and each time I was told by your infuriating butler that Lady Georgiana was not in residence and they did not know where she was or when she would be returning home. Then I went to your London house and was told the same thing.”

  “Probably Fig being poisonous,” I said. “But then partly my fault. I really didn’t let them know where I was staying when I came back to England.”

  “With your mother, I presume?”

  “No, I was using Belinda’s mews cottage until she returned and turfed me out. Then fortunately I was invited to Kensington Palace.”

  “Quite a step up in the world,” he said. He paused, eyeing me critically. “You look washed out. I’ll get us a taxicab. If you’ll permit me to escort you home, that is?”

  I couldn’t look at him. “I’m sorry, Darcy,” I said. “I suppose I jumped to conclusions.”

  He looked at me then burst out laughing. “Oh, Georgie, what an idiot you can be sometimes.”

  I turned away. “Fine. Go ahead. Laugh. How do you think you would feel if a policeman told you that I’d been carrying on an affair behind your back? And he was enjoying telling me, too.”

  He took my arm and turned me to face him. He was looking
deadly serious now. “Georgie, we have no hope of a successful marriage if we can’t trust one another.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “It’s just that everyone else seems to take bed-hopping for granted. Everybody in London has slept with everybody else, except me.”

  He smiled at me, his eyes sparkling, and reached out a finger to stroke my cheek. “Poor little Georgie. So deprived. And now you’ll never get the chance, because I’m keeping you all to myself.”

  “That’s fine with me as long as the same rules apply to you,” I said.

  “Absolutely.”

  “You really mean that?”

  “I do.”

  We stood there, looking at each other. Then I flung myself into his arms. “Oh, Darcy, I’ve been so miserable,” I said.

  That was the last thing I said for a long time as his lips came down to meet mine. When we broke apart we were both rather breathless and I was looking a trifle disheveled.

  “I can’t keep up this celibacy thing forever,” Darcy muttered. “I’ve a good mind to rip off your clothes right here and now and make love to you on that table.”

  I laughed uneasily. “I wouldn’t mind,” I said, “but I’d hate to be interrupted, and I rather think it might not be appreciated in a place as hallowed as this.”

  He smoothed back my hair. “I’m so tempted to suggest we run off to Gretna Green right now and get married and to hell with everything.”

  “That would be fine with me too,” I said. “I’ve always told you that I’d be happy to live anywhere, as long as it was with you. But I can’t elope right now, not when the queen has charged me with looking after Princess Marina.” I looked nervously toward the doorway. “Speaking of which, I’d probably better go back to the palace. She’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.”

  “Nonsense. She’ll understand. I think she’s a romantic, isn’t she?”

  “I don’t know. I think she’s fairly realistic.”