Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)

 

At that moment there was the crunch of tires on gravel and a Daimler drew up outside. Major B-C jumped up and strode briskly to the front door. We heard his big voice booming, “Welcome to Kensington Palace, Your Highness. Inclement weather, I’m afraid. I hope the Channel wasn’t too rough.”

 

“Quite big swells. Rather exciting, actually,” answered a woman’s voice. And they came through into the room. From what I had been told—that the family had lived in exile with relatives and were rather poor—I had formed an image of a shy, rather dowdy young girl, a younger, fresher-faced version of Irmtraut. Instead into the room strode this tall and beautiful young woman. She was dressed in the height of fashion with a fox-fur-trimmed coat, beautifully cut, and a daring little hat perched on one side of her head. She gave a radiant smile when she saw Countess Irmtraut and held out her hands.

 

“Irmtraut. You’re here. How good of you to come.” They kissed on the cheeks.

 

Prince George came into the room behind her. “Hello, Georgie,” he said, giving me what I interpreted as a slightly warning look. It was saying clearly, “You’ve seen me at a naughty party. Please forget about it.”

 

“Hello, sir,” I replied. “May I offer my heartiest congratulations on your upcoming wedding.”

 

We exchanged the briefest of looks of understanding and he smiled.

 

“My dear,” he said to Marina, “this is my cousin Georgiana I told you about. She has volunteered to stay with you here and show you around London.”

 

“Georgiana, how delightful.” She held out her hand to me. “How kind of you to give up your time to introduce me to London,” she said. Her English was perfect and almost accent free. “I still have so much shopping to do for my trousseau. I’ve been away from Paris and the good shops for too long. Most European cities are too dreary and old-fashioned for words, especially Copenhagen, where I was staying. You can take me to the most fashionable shops in London. We’ll have such fun.”

 

Oh golly, I thought. I was the last person to escort someone around the most fashionable shops. I had never had the money to shop at any of them and my experience ended with Harrods, Barkers, and maybe Fenwick. Certainly not the most fashionable boutiques London had to offer.

 

Major Beauchamp-Chough came in announcing to Princess Marina that her bags and her maid were now in her suite and he would escort her to it anytime she was ready. He suggested that she might want to rest after her long journey.

 

She gave a chuckle at this. “I’ve been sitting in a train carriage for most of the day. Hardly strenuous. What I’d really like is some tea. I have to say that English teatime is the best thing about moving to England.”

 

“I’d rather hoped that I was the best thing,” George said.

 

“Apart from you, my darling.” She reached out a hand to touch his and I saw genuine affection there.

 

“I’ll leave you to settle in, then,” George said. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.” He blew her a kiss as he left. Marina smiled fondly after him. I began to feel hopeful that this might be a true love match after all.

 

As soon as he was gone we enjoyed a good tea around the fire.

 

“I really missed having a proper tea when we lived in Paris,” Marina said.

 

“Was it the custom to have tea in your family?” I asked.

 

“We had an English nanny,” the princess said. “She expected tea to be served every day in the nursery.”

 

“Ah, that explains your perfect English,” I said.

 

She nodded. “Miss Kate Fox. Terribly strict and correct. You know, made us sleep with the windows open in a howling gale, and we had to mind our p’s and q’s. I expect you had one too?”

 

“My nanny was actually quite kind, which was good as neither of my parents was in evidence. But windows are always required to be open at Castle Rannoch, even in Scottish gales.”

 

Marina smiled. “George has told me about the obligatory visits to Balmoral. I expect it will be much the same there.”

 

“Definitely. And the piper waking everyone at dawn.”

 

We laughed, at least Marina and I did. Irmtraut sat silent and staring past us, out of the window.

 

“Where are you to live, ma’am?” I asked. “Here at Kensington Palace?”

 

“Oh gosh, no. Too depressing for words, don’t you think?” she said. “We’ll be living in Belgrave Square. George is anxious to be moving out of his rooms at St. James’s Palace. Do you know Belgrave Square?”

 

“Our family’s London home is also there. What a coincidence.”

 

“Then we shall be neighbors. How lovely.” She reached out to me this time.

 

Irmtraut glared.

 

We chatted on as Marina worked her way through crumpets and scones and shortbread. It was all very pleasant and we probably lingered a little too long before finally realizing that we should go up and change for dinner at the palace. I found Queenie in my room, reading a magazine.