Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
I’d had enough. They were both looking at me with horror and suspicion as if I were a dangerous cornered animal. “Perhaps in the heat of passion you forgot that you invited me to stay in your house while you were away, Belinda,” I said. “And you might have given me advance warning that you were coming back.”
Belinda had taken down one of the robes and was in the process of trying to put it on. I noticed that her body was curvier than when we had shared a room as teenagers at a finishing school in Switzerland. No wonder men were so attracted to her.
“I remember mentioning that you could use my house,” Belinda said as she successfully pulled on the robe and tied it at her waist, “but I’d no idea that you’d taken me up on it. You might have dropped me a note to tell me.”
“Dropped you a note?” I was fully indignant now. “Belinda, I wrote you two letters. And since I didn’t know where you’d be staying, I addressed one to you, care of Golden Pictures, and one, care of the Beverly Hills Hotel. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t receive either of them?”
“Of course I didn’t receive them. I never went back to Golden Pictures. It’s been virtually shut down by Mr. Goldman’s widow; at least all work is halted for now. And my budget certainly didn’t run to the Beverly Hills Hotel.”
Sir Toby cleared his throat. “Given the circumstances, Belinda, I think I should depart as rapidly as possible. So if you young ladies don’t mind stepping outside while I get dressed . . .”
Belinda followed me out onto the landing. “Honestly, Georgie. You’ve spoiled everything.”
She stood there, glaring at me while I squirmed in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, but you did offer and I did write to tell you. And I’m not about to walk out into the storm at this hour so that you can finish your little tryst with a cabinet minister.”
Sir Toby emerged, now looking more like himself in dark suit and old school tie. “I’ll just be toddling off home then, Belinda,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll pick up a cab on Knightsbridge. I’ll see myself out.”
Belinda followed him down the stairs. “Will I see you again soon?”
He cleared his throat in that annoying way that some men have. “I don’t really think that would be wise . . . much as I’d like to. Can’t afford to risk bringing scandal to the party, you know. Let’s just put tonight behind us. Forget all about it.”
And with that he grabbed his overcoat, opened the front door and stepped out into the storm.
I stood there at the top of the stairs, then came down slowly. We looked at each other in tense silence.
“Oh well, that’s that, I suppose,” Belinda said. “Is there anything to drink in the house?”
“I could make you a cup of tea, or I believe there is cocoa,” I replied.
This made her burst into laughter. “God, Georgie, why do you have to be so damned pure and na?ve all the time? When are you going to grow up and realize what life is all about and when people say they need a drink they mean a large whiskey, not bloody cocoa.”
“I think you have Scotch in your drinks cabinet,” I said. “And my life is very different from yours, Belinda. I don’t bring cabinet ministers home for sex. As a matter of fact I don’t bring anybody home for sex.”
Belinda sighed. “You really are a cocoa type of person, Georgie. God, and I was looking forward to that. There is something about powerful men that really attracts me. And he was obviously good at it too. And now I’ll never know. . . .”
Another awkward silence. “I’ve said I was sorry,” I repeated. “I don’t know what else to say. And you’ve used me often enough, including turning up out of the blue in Hollywood, so I do think you owe me the odd favor.”
There was a long silence as she went down the stairs and over to the cabinet in the corner. I heard liquor slosh into a glass. Or rather two glasses. She came back up the stairs, holding out a half tumbler of whiskey for me. “Here, drink this. You need it as much as I do. And you’re right. I did offer you my house and I have used you shamelessly on many occasions. Go on. Down the hatch.”
I did as she commanded, feeling the fiery liquid going down my throat and spreading warmth throughout my body. I coughed and wiped my eyes. She laughed. “You must be the only Scot who can’t take her whiskey,” she said.
“I’m only a quarter Scottish,” I said, managing a weak smile. “And I’ve never developed a taste for it.”
“You and your bloody cocoa,” she said, and she started to laugh again. “Oh well, I don’t suppose it would have led anywhere. It was just one of those shipboard flings. And now he’s gone home.”
“Back to his wife, if I remember correctly,” I said. “And wasn’t he the one who gave that speech about the sanctity of the family and every proud Englishman being king of his own castle with his wife and children around him?”
She nodded. “He’s a politician, Georgie. They say what people want to hear.”
“Belinda, I think I did you a favor. You could have caused real trouble. You could have brought down the government.”