Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen   
“What time was this, Queenie?”
“I couldn’t tell you, miss. I was sitting here, feeling bored, and I thought I heard a motorcar, so I pulled back the curtain and that’s when I saw it. I’m sure it was one of them ruddy ghosts. You should hear what the servants say about this place being haunted. There’s the man with no face, and the boy who jumps out at you and laughs. So now I come to think of it, I’m quite happy to stay up here. If I ran into one of them on the stairs I think I’d die of a heart attack.”
“I don’t think ghosts can hurt us, Queenie. They are not solid flesh and blood.”
“That’s as may be,” she said. “I ain’t going to give them a try.”
I thought of Bobo’s sparkly white dress. It did appear that Queenie may or may not have seen her crossing the courtyard. If she had been tipsy or on drugs might she have staggered around, giving the impression of wafting, as Queenie put it. That was interesting. If true, then a motorcar had not pulled up and dumped her body, but she had been alive down below my window.
I went down to see if breakfast might have been put out for us and found Countess Irmtraut already seated at the table, tucking into a plate piled high with food.
“This I like. The English breakfast. It is most nourishing,” she said.
“Yes, there’s nothing to beat a good English breakfast,” I replied, starting to help myself to kidneys and bacon. “Did you sleep well last night? I hope we didn’t wake you when we came home.”
“I was still awake,” she said. “You do not think that I would fall asleep before the princess returned? She might have needed me. And the maid said that someone lost a piece of jewelry when you came out of the motorcar? Was it you or Princess Marina?”
“It was I. But easily found again. The major had a flashlight and helped me find it.”
“This is good.” She nodded.
“Your room faces the outside of the palace,” I said. “You didn’t hear any vehicles drive up before we arrived home, did you?”
“What kind of vehicles?” She was looking at me suspiciously, a kidney poised on her fork.
“My maid said she heard a motorcar outside the front door and I wondered who it could have been.”
“I heard nothing,” she said. “I ate my dinner alone in the dining room. And a terrible dinner it was too. They served me something called toad in the hole. Do you know this? Is not a toad some kind of frog? Me, I do not eat frogs. I am not French.”
I tried not to laugh. “That’s just its name. Actually it’s only English sausages in a batter. You know—English bangers?”
“Bangers?” Her eyebrows shot up. “They explode?”
“Not usually.” I smiled. “I’m sorry you didn’t like the meal. It’s a favorite of mine but not served often in fashionable circles. More like nursery food.”
“They think I am only worth serving nursery food.” Irmtraut sniffed. “I had this frog for dinner and then I sat alone and read until Marina returned. A very boring evening. I trust your dinner at the palace was more lively.”
“Very pleasant, thank you. And the family has clearly taken to Princess Marina.”
“This is good,” she said. “I hope she will be happy with the English prince. He has not the good reputation, so I have heard.”
“He might have been a bit of a playboy,” I said cautiously. “But I’m sure he will settle down now and take his responsibilities seriously.”
“A playboy? At what does he play?” she asked. “Does this mean like an actor in a play?”
I smiled. “No, it means he likes to have a good time.”
“Ah. This is what we heard,” she said. “I do not wish Marina to be disappointed in her choice.”
“The king has just made Prince George the Duke of Kent,” I said. “That means that Marina will become Duchess of Kent upon her marriage.”
“A duchess is of higher rank than a princess?” She echoed Marina’s question.
“A royal duchess, yes. The title comes with property and income. Kings’ sons, other than the heir, are often made royal dukes in England.”
“Ah, so this is good. I am pleased.” I think it was the first time I had seen her smile.
I waited for Marina to appear and ask to be taken to fashionable shops, plays and even nightclubs. All outside of my sphere of experience. I sighed. If only Darcy were here, he’d know about such things. He had certainly lived enough of the playboy lifestyle. I wondered where he was and why he could never even drop me a postcard. Was this what married life would be like, with my husband away in unknown parts of the world and my never knowing when he would return home? And whatever he was doing, of course he couldn’t tell me. Annoying man!