Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
“But he’s becoming ever more obsessed with that woman,” the queen said. “She has a hold over him. One hears she went to America to inquire about getting a divorce, you know. Ridiculous, really, because she and David can never marry. The country would never countenance a twice-married American as queen.”
When I said nothing she went on, “I have told him if he makes a proper marriage he can keep that woman quietly as his mistress and nobody would mind too much.”
I smiled. “I don’t think she’s the kind of person who can be kept quietly. She likes the limelight too much.”
“That’s the problem.” The queen sighed. “But let’s turn to more pleasant matters. I asked you about Kensington Palace because that’s where we plan to house Princess Marina until her wedding. She’ll be arriving at the end of the week and will have a little time to be introduced to London and our ways. And that’s where you come in, Georgiana, dear. Marina’s family were exiled from Greece when her uncle was deposed as King of the Hellenes. She has grown up in exile, living with various relatives, and even rather simply in an apartment in Paris, so one understands. The king and I were afraid that she might find London society overwhelming. We thought Marina might appreciate having someone her own age to help her settle in and to show her around London.”
She looked at me questioningly. I nodded and waited for her to go on. “You would move into Kensington Palace as her companion. Familiarize her with English ways. Take her shopping and to the theater perhaps. Show her the best of what London has to offer.”
I hesitated. She had asked me to host a visiting European princess once before, not seeming to understand that I had no money to host anyone and was living on baked beans myself. Now she wanted me to show a princess the best that London had to offer. But queens never touch money. In fact it was considered frightfully bad form to discuss money at all. But I knew I had to bring up the subject now if I wasn’t to face the embarrassment of taking a princess to a theater for which I couldn’t pay. I was trying to find a way to mention this tactfully when she said, “The master of house at Kensington, Major Beecham-Chuff, will be in charge of looking after Marina’s needs until her wedding. I’ll let him know you will be taking care of her and showing her around. Just ask him for what you need.”
I presumed this meant monetarily and not just recommendations and reservations. And as for the major’s name, I found out later that it was actually spelled Beauchamp-Chough. Yes, I know English is a strange language.
“I’ll be happy to help Princess Marina settle in,” I said.
“Splendid.” She gave me an approving smile. “I knew I could always count on you. Such a steady girl. You have the family sense of duty, Georgiana. If only my son would marry someone like you.”
And she sighed. Then she leaned closer to me again, although we were alone in the small sitting room. “And I’m going to ask another favor of you, Georgiana.”
Oh golly, I thought. Now comes the difficult part. I held my breath.
“Like his older brother, my son George has not always been the wisest in his choice of friendships,” she said. “But I understand that there may be rumors flying around that completely exaggerate his behavior. It is important that this marriage starts off on the right foot, so I would appreciate it if you could heartily refute any rumor Marina may have heard and reassure her on what a decent fellow he is. I can count on you, can’t I?”
“Of course, ma’am,” I said. So now I was expected to lie for my royal kin. Still, I reasoned, it was probably better that a sheltered girl like Marina not know the truth about her future husband’s hijinks.
I WENT BACK to Rannoch House with a spring in my step. Not only was I to be invited to the wedding, I was to play an important part in welcoming the bride. I wouldn’t have to endure Fig’s barbs any longer and . . . I stopped, frozen on the pavement halfway up Constitution Hill. Oh crikey. I’d have to take Queenie to a palace. A palace full of princesses and with a master of house called Major Beauchamp-Chough. She’d already shown what havoc she could wreak in a normal house, with no royalty present and no priceless antiques around every corner. It was hard enough for me, who tends to be a little clumsy at times, but Queenie was far worse. She really was a walking disaster. And yet I couldn’t arrive at a palace with no lady’s maid. I’d have to make it quite clear to her that she must never leave my suite. If I had her meals sent up on a tray maybe we’d be all right.
Fig and Binky were sitting by the drawing room fire when I returned. Podge was with them, sitting beside his mother and showing her a drawing he had made, while Binky had Adelaide on his knee and was bouncing her while Nanny hovered protectively near the doorway.
“There you are, Georgiana.” Fig looked up. “So how was tea at the palace?” She almost spat out the last word.
“The cake wasn’t quite as good as the one I had at my grandfather’s,” I said with a smile.
“Was anybody else present? Was it a large tea party?”