Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
“Good show,” he said. “I’ve been dying to bed you since we first danced together on the ship. But too many watchful eyes. It was dashed clever of you to suggest coming back here rather than a hotel. A man in my position can’t be too careful, don’t you know.”
Toby? I thought. Sir Toby Blenchley, cabinet minister? I had no time to consider this as they were now heading for the stairs. I stood behind that door in an agony of embarrassment and indecision. Surely she couldn’t have forgotten that I was occupying her house, and thus her bedroom, could she? Did she really think it would be acceptable to roll in the hay with a cabinet minister while I was there? Where did she expect me to go while they were thus engaged? I sighed in exasperation. How typically Belinda.
I heard her giggle and say, “My, but you are impatient, aren’t you?” as they came up the stairs. What on earth was I to do? Leap out on them and say, “Welcome home, Belinda, darling. Perhaps you had forgotten that you’d lent your house to your best friend?” Sir Toby wasn’t in the first flush of youth. What if the surprise brought on a heart attack? On the other hand, there was now no way I could cross the upstairs landing to the maid’s room, and I certainly didn’t want to be trapped in there listening to their hijinks.
Then it was decided for me. Belinda ran up the rest of the stairs calling, “Come on then, last one into bed is a sissy!” She pushed open the bedroom door with full force, trapping me behind it. She had several robes hanging from the back of that door and these were now in my face. I heard the sounds of two people undressing hurriedly. Maybe if I kept quiet and didn’t move he’d have his way with her and then go, I decided. Better still, maybe they’d both fall asleep and I could creep out and take refuge in the box room.
“God, you really are delectable,” I heard him say. “Those neat little breasts. Enough to drive a man wild. Come here.”
I heard bedsprings creak, a grunt, a sigh. Then something terrible happened. One of Belinda’s robes was trimmed with feathers. And one of these feathers was now tickling my nose. To my horror I realized I was going to sneeze. I was pinned so tightly behind the door that it was hard for me to get my hand up to my nose. I managed it just in time and clamped my fingers over my nose and mouth. The noises on the bed were getting more violent and urgent. The sneeze was still lingering, waiting to come out the moment I let go. I willed it to go away but I had to breathe. And then, in spite of everything, it came out, a great big “A—choo,” just at the moment when Belinda was moaning “Oh yes, oh yes.”
It was amazing how quickly the room fell silent.
“What the devil was that?” Sir Toby asked.
“Someone’s in the house.” I heard the bed creak as Belinda got up.
“I thought you said there’d be nobody here.”
“It must be my maid, although I didn’t tell her I was coming home,” Belinda said. “How could she have known? I’ll go and see if she’s sleeping in her room.” Then she lowered her voice. “Don’t go away, you big brute. I’ll be back and we can continue from where we left off.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “Not if your maid’s in the house. Is she likely to gossip?”
“My maid is paid very well to close her eyes to anything that goes on in my bedroom,” Belinda said. “You don’t have to worry, Toby, I promise you. I’ll just get my robe. . . .”
And she swung the door open. . . .
Chapter 2
It was fortunate that the storm outside was making such a racket or her scream would have been heard all the way to Victoria Station and maybe even across the Thames.
“Belinda, it’s all right,” I said, reaching out to touch her. “It’s me. Georgie.”
“Oh God.” She was gasping now, her hand over her naked heart. “Georgie. Have you gone mad? What on earth are you doing hiding in my bedroom?”
“I’m sorry if I scared you, Belinda,” I said. “I didn’t intend to hide, but by the time I’d woken up and heard you coming up the stairs it was too late to do anything sensible. And you were the one who pushed the door open so hard, trapping me behind it.”
Sir Toby was standing up beside the bed and had obviously just realized he was naked in the presence of a strange female. He grabbed a lace-trimmed, heart-shaped pillow and attempted to hold it over the important parts. He looked old and ridiculous and quite unlike the masterful, dapper man whose picture I had seen on newsreels and in magazines. “You know this person, Belinda?” he demanded. “Should we call the police?”
“Oh no, of course not,” Belinda said. “She’s my best friend—Georgiana Rannoch.”
“Lady Georgiana, sister of the Duke of Rannoch?” Sir Toby said. “Good God. But what’s she doing in your house? In your bedroom, for God’s sake?”
“I’ve no idea, Toby.”