Crowned and Dangerous

by Rhys Bowen

  She sighed. “You didn’t happen to meet any good prospects at the wedding, did you? There were quite a few young Continental chaps in evidence from what I could see. Of course, we were not invited to the reception at the palace, but I understand that you were.” Another withering look.

  “I am capable of finding my own chap, thank you, Fig.”

  “You mean that O’Mara person? I hope his name will not be mentioned again in this house. You do know that his father is a murderer? A common criminal, Georgiana. You must put all thoughts of him aside.”

  “His father is accused of murder,” I said. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

  “You know what they always say: Like father, like son.” She nodded as if she had scored a point.

  “I think I’ll go up and see the children in the nursery,” I said.

  “So how long do you think you will be staying?” she asked as I stood up.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “My plans are a little up in the air, as usual.”

  “Only we won’t be here much longer ourselves,” Fig said with something close to a smirk on her face.

  “I thought you were having central heating put in at Castle Rannoch and you were going to spend Christmas in London.”

  “That was the original plan,” she said. “But now my sister, Ducky—you remember Ducky, don’t you?”

  “Very well,” I said, trying not to shudder. Fig’s family all seemed to be as unpleasant as she was.

  “Well, Ducky also received her share of the inheritance from our aunt and she has bought a small villa in Nice. Not as grand as your mother’s, of course. But somewhere to go in the winter. And they have asked us to join them. We’ll be going out there at the end of the week.”

  “Oh, I see,” I replied. “And I suppose there’s no chance of my staying on here alone for a while?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Just won’t be possible. We’ll be closing up the place, you see. Sending the servants back to Scotland. We simply can’t afford to keep two houses open.”

  “I’m able to survive quite well on my own now,” I said.

  “But it’s the added expense, isn’t it? Money is horribly tight, Georgiana. And one understands that the price of coal has shot up.” She was staring into a fire that was glowing most healthily. Then she turned back, waving a bony finger at me. “You know what you should do? You should talk to the queen, as you seem to be quite chummy with her. Surely one of your aged royal aunts can use you as a companion. I understand that Kensington Palace is full of them. Isn’t it known as the Aunt Heap?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m sure there are plenty of places I can go,” I said brightly. “My grandfather has always told me I’m welcome to stay with him.”

  Fig blinked rapidly, something she did when nervous. “You mean your mother’s father? The one who was a policeman? Who lives in Essex?”

  “It would hardly be the old Duke of Rannoch. He’s been dead for thirty years.”

  “Georgiana, it simply isn’t done. Someone of your social standing cannot stay with a retired Cockney policeman in Essex!”

  “The king and queen go to Sandringham,” I pointed out. “That’s only one county away.”

  “You know what I mean,” she snapped. “One does have the honor of the family to uphold.”

  “The family gives me no money to uphold their honor,” I pointed out. “But don’t worry. I expect the Princess Zamanska can find me somewhere.”

  “Who?” she asked. “Zamanska? Not that dreadful woman one reads about jumping out of planes?”

  All in all I was holding my own rather well. I should have enjoyed needling her. Heaven knows she had said enough hateful things to me over the years. But the thought running through my head all the time was that I had to be where Darcy could find me. He would telephone as soon as he had any news. Hopefully that would be before the end of the week. And then he’d ask me to go to him.

  Hamilton had just brought in a tray of coffee when we heard the sound of the front door slamming and footsteps in the hall. My brother, Binky, appeared, his face half hidden under a big red scarf. “Beastly day out there, Fig. The air positively tastes like soot. I don’t think Nanny should take the children out into the gardens.”

  “You know how hot she is on fresh air and exercise,” Fig said.

  “That’s the point. The air isn’t fresh.” He unwound the layers of scarf, then looked up and saw me sitting on the window seat. “Why, Georgie, old bean. How splendid. Have you returned home after the wedding?”

  I noticed that he still thought of Rannoch House as my home whereas his wife saw me as an unwanted visitor.

  “Hello, Binky,” I said. “Yes, I got booted out of Kensington Palace this morning so I thought I’d come here to catch my breath before I go off somewhere else.”

  “Jolly good,” he said. “Lovely to have you, isn’t it, Fig?”

  “What? Oh yes. Yes, of course.” And she hurriedly took another sip of coffee.

  “By the way, Georgie,” Binky said, “you’re not still keen on that O’Mara chap, are you? I’ve just come from the club and all the chaps were talking about his father. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he’s been arrested for murder. Apparently he bashed some American chappie over the head with one of the family weapons. I don’t know if there is a hint of insanity there, but the man sounds to be an out-and-out bounder.” He perched on the sofa, facing me. “Apparently he’s been running this very successful racing stable for the American millionaire who bought his estate when he went bankrupt. They had a string of successes . . . gold cups, you name it. And then it turns out that it was all because he was doping the horses. Injecting them with some concoction of drugs to make them run faster. Absolute blighter. And of course it all came to light when a horse that was leading in a big race dropped dead before the finish and the drugs were found in its system.” He leaned toward me. “They never did prosecute but the American sacked him right away. Didn’t want him anywhere near his horses. So I suppose Lord Kilhenny was angry and got his revenge.”

  “Absolutely barbaric,” Fig said. “Binky, you are to tell Georgiana that we never want to hear that name mentioned again and she is forbidden any contact with this Darcy person.”

  “Just a minute,” I said, feeling my face flushing red. “We don’t even know that Darcy’s father is guilty yet, and whatever he might have done, you can’t tar Darcy with the same brush.”

  “I’m afraid Fig’s right this time, old bean,” Binky said. “Your chap might be true-blue as they come, but the scandal will hover over him just the same. Blight him for the rest of his life, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  “Then he will need friends to stick by him,” I retorted. “And fortunately Darcy seems to have plenty of friends, including me.”

  “If it comes out that you are in any way connected to him, it would be all over the newspapers,” Fig said. Clearly she was enjoying this. “The family would be mortified.”

  “You need to get right away for a bit,” Binky said. His face lit up. “I tell you what—Fig may have mentioned that we’re off to the south of France next week. Ducky and Foggy have bought a villa. Actually ‘villa’ is rather a grand description of what seems to be a rather poky little house . . .”

  “When one buys an ordinary little house in Nice one refers to it as a villa, Binky,” Fig corrected.

  “Very well.” Binky shrugged. “Anyway, as I was saying, we’re off to this so-called villa and perhaps you should come with us.”

  “Oh golly,” I said at the same time as Fig said, “Oh no, Binky!”

  “But, Fig. This is my sister,” he said. “If she’s in a spot of bother, it’s up to us to rescue her.”

  Fig’s eyes were darting nervously now. “You just said yourself it was a poky little house, Binky. ‘Little’ being the operative word. There would be no ro
om for Georgiana.”

  “She could share a bedroom with Maude,” Binky said. “They got along so splendidly last time, didn’t they?”

  Which shows you how sweet but utterly clueless my brother was. I was still speechless. I was still remembering the last disastrous stay at a villa in Nice, when I had to share with Ducky’s daughter there too. Actually Maude and I had loathed each other at first sight. Ducky had been so stingy with the food that it was almost one lettuce leaf each, and Ducky’s husband, Foggy, had made advances to me when he caught me alone in the hall. There was absolutely no way I was going with them to the Riviera.

  “How kind of you,” I said, “but I really couldn’t inconvenience you like that. As I told Fig, there are plenty of places I can go. My mother has said she’d love to have me with them in Berlin, and they now have a villa on Lake Lugano.”

  “She’s still with that German chap?” Binky asked.

  “Yes. In fact they plan to marry,” I said.

  “You know, that might not be a bad idea for Georgiana,” Fig said, waving a finger at Binky now. “There are still plenty of young German counts and barons and I gather life in Berlin is an absolute social whirl. I wouldn’t know, of course, not having the means to travel. But you should consider it, Georgiana. Your mother’s beau is stinking rich, so one hears. You’d have a lovely time. And you might finally meet someone. Someone rich and suitable.”

  “But I don’t want to meet someone, Fig. And please don’t worry about me. I’m sure I can take care of myself. You go and have a lovely time with Ducky and Foggy. Just take care you don’t put on too much weight.”

  That last remark was naughty of me, but I felt the need to strike back. I was overwrought and angry at the way the whole world seemed to have condemned Darcy along with his father. And at the back of my mind was the worry that everything they had been saying was true. What if his father was found guilty? What if Darcy was shunned from polite society? Then I realized that none of that mattered. If he was shunned, I’d go and live with him in a little house like my grandfather’s. Nothing would matter as long as we were together.

  Chapter 8

  SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1

  RANNOCH HOUSE, BELGRAVE SQUARE, LONDON W.1.

  Having come to this conclusion, I went up to see what awful torture Queenie was putting my clothes through. I found she was sitting on my bed, mopping a very red face.

  “Blimey, miss,” she said. “I’m bushed. I had to drag all this stuff up these ruddy stairs.”

  “Did Hamilton not send the footman to help you?”

  “Yeah, but by the time he arrived I’d been up and down twice.”

  “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that it doesn’t all need to be unpacked,” I said. “We shall not be staying long. So maybe only a couple of day outfits and one dinner dress should suffice.”

  “So where are we off to this time?” she asked. “Somewhere nice and warm?”

  I hesitated. Where would I go when Binky and Fig set off for Nice? I could write to my mother to ask if I could stay with her. I could, indeed, go to the queen and see if she had any little job she’d like me to do. These had certainly proved interesting in the past. Then I remembered that the Dowager Duchess of Eynsford had told me I was always welcome at Kingsdowne. And Lady Hawse-Gorzley would also welcome me in Devon. And my former stepfather, Sir Hubert Anstruther, might even be in England, back from his latest mountaineering trip. He had always been fond of me and at one time had tried to adopt me. So I did have places where I was welcome. No need to panic yet. It was just that none of them was in London, and I had to stay in touch with Darcy. I had to know what was happening and what he wanted me to do.

  That was when I thought of Belinda. She had been my best friend in school. She had led a very wild and naughty life that had finally caught up with her. She now found herself in trouble, as they say, and at her wits’ end. I had written to my mother to see if she might let Belinda hide out at one of her villas until the blessed event was over. Since Belinda and my mother were kindred spirits and had led similarly naughty lives, I was sure that Mummy would take pity on her and whisk her off to Lugano or Nice. And if Belinda was abroad, then her little mews cottage might be the perfect place for me.

  “I’ll be back in time for luncheon,” I said to Queenie, then I bundled myself into my coat and scarf and headed out into the murk. Belinda lived not too far away in a delightful mews cottage in Knightsbridge. I didn’t think she’d be likely to be out on a filthy morning like this so I tapped on her door and heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Belinda opened it, wearing silk pajamas and looking glamorous as usual, if decidedly frail. The image of Camille flashed through my mind.

  “Georgie!” she said, her face lighting up. “How lovely. I thought for some reason that you had gone away, now that the wedding is over. Come in, do.” She almost dragged me into the house before more of the fog could curl its way in with me.

  “I was away,” I said, “but Darcy had to rush off to Ireland unexpectedly, as I’m sure you now know.”

  She looked around in surprise. “No. Why?”

  “You don’t read the newspapers?”

  “Never. It’s all bad news, isn’t it?” She had gone ahead of me into her cozy sitting room and draped herself on the sofa. I headed for the chair near the gas fire.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll hear soon enough when you are out in society. His father has been arrested and Darcy rushed to his side.”

  “Darcy would.” She nodded. “But how horrid for you both.”

  “We’ll come through it, don’t worry,” I said. “But how about you? You don’t exactly look in the pink.”

  “No, I’ve had some terrible bouts of sickness. They call it morning sickness but I’ve been vomiting into the afternoon and evening. No food seems to appeal to me. I gather it should stop soon. God, I hope so. I don’t know why women ever have children from choice. It’s beastly.”

  “Have you heard from my mother yet?”

  “Not yet. But it doesn’t matter anymore, Georgie. I don’t need her.”

  I was confused. She couldn’t have lost the baby, or she wouldn’t be feeling so sick. I wondered if the baby’s father had changed his mind and come to seek her out and marry her, but I didn’t think it would be wise to ask. So I waited.

  “I’ve just had a piece of good news,” she said, staring out past me to the swirling fog beyond the window. She hesitated, infuriatingly. I was itching to tell her to get on with it, but one doesn’t. “Well, I suppose in a way it’s bad news. But good for me.”

  Finally I could stand it no longer. “For heaven’s sake, tell me,” I insisted.

  “My grandmother died,” she said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She grimaced. “I suppose I should be too, but I’m not, really. She was never the warmest of women. Always telling one to sit up straight; and why wasn’t I married? Very narrow. Very judgmental. If she’d found out about the baby, I’d have been cut off without a penny.” A big smile spread over her face. “Well, as it happens she died at the right moment, and left me quite a lot of money. It seems she disliked my stepmother as much as I do, so she only left a token amount to my father and the rest to me. I’m quite a wealthy woman, Georgie.”

  “I’m so glad for you. So what will you do?”

  “I understand it will take ages for the will to be settled, but the solicitor is willing to give me an advance, which means I can go to the Continent and rent a small place where nobody knows me. Not the Riviera, of course. Too many people I know there. I’m thinking Italy. Somewhere the English don’t go.”

  “Not Positano, then. Or Florence.”

  “Absolutely not. One of the lakes, maybe? Or a little seaside village? I’ll stay there until the baby is due, then go to Switzerland and have it at a good clinic, arrange for the adoption and come home.”

  “Yo
u make it all sound so simple,” I said. “What if you look at the baby and fall hopelessly in love and can’t give it up?”

  She smiled as she shook her head. “I really don’t see myself as the motherly type. But we’ll face that hurdle when we come to it. The point is that as of this moment I don’t have to worry. I’m free. I’ll find a little villa, hire a local woman to cook me divine Italian food and fatten me up, and while I’m there I’ll work on designing a new collection, then come back here and open my own salon.”

  “I’m happy for you, Belinda,” I said.

  She nodded. She didn’t look terribly happy. “In the circumstances it’s the best that can be hoped for, I suppose.”

  I realized then that she had really loved the man who’d betrayed her. It’s hard for us women to get a man out of our minds and hearts.

  “So when will you go, do you think?”

  “Before Christmas, I hope. Christmas alone in London would be too utterly bloody, and of course I can’t go home. The wicked stepmother would notice, I’m sure. I couldn’t do up my trousers yesterday. I can’t tell you what a shock that was. Made it all so real suddenly. So I’m aiming for Christmas in Italy.” She reached across to me. “Why don’t you come with me? We’d have fun together. It would be like the old days.”

  “We certainly would,” I agreed, “but I can’t leave London in case Darcy needs me.”

  “Why didn’t you go to Ireland with him?”

  I stared into the glowing bars of the fire. “He said he didn’t want me there. Or at least that his father wouldn’t want me there at such a terrible time.”

  “Poor Darcy, having to face such an unpleasant matter all alone. What was his father arrested for?”

  “Murder,” I said.

  “Crikey. No, you’re probably wise to keep well away. There’s nothing you could do and the newspapers will be waiting like hawks. Your family would probably be furious.”