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

 

 

“Of the wrong sort,” I said. “No respectable household would invite you for dinner, in case you seduced their husbands.”

 

“I suppose you’re right as usual,” she said. “It did cross my mind that it might be nice to be someone’s mistress, taken care of, set up in a swank flat somewhere.”

 

“With no security whatever, Belinda. Why not someone’s wife? Your pedigree is as good as mine—well, almost.”

 

“But I’m soiled goods, darling. No top-drawer family wants their son to get hitched to someone like me. I’m clearly not a virgin, like you. I’ve a reputation now, and no fortune to go with it. And I’m stony-broke at the moment—no idea how I’m going to pay my maid and put food on the table, unless something good turns up.”

 

“So Hollywood didn’t work out for you, then?” I said. “You said that Mrs. Goldman shut down Golden Pictures, but what about all the other studios? Didn’t any of them want a talented costume designer? You had terrific contacts, after all—you swam nude with Craig Hart.”

 

Belinda frowned. “It seems there are too many talented people in Hollywood, fighting for too little work. And I didn’t really feel comfortable over there. That sort of lifestyle wasn’t for me. Too brash. Too artificial. Nobody means what they say. They talk big, make big promises and it’s all fabrication.”

 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I bet you’d have made a brilliant costume designer. You are very talented.”

 

“Kind of you to say so, darling.” She managed a weak smile.

 

“You have trained with Chanel, Belinda. And you’re really good. You could easily start your own line over here. I know you could.”

 

“I know I could too,” she said, “except that it all takes money. I’d need premises, seamstresses, fabric . . . and remember what I found out before? Those who can afford good clothes want everything on credit. It’s a constant fight to make them pay up.”

 

I sighed this time. “It’s not easy, is it? My mother gave me a nice check when she went back to Germany but it won’t last forever. And now that you’re home I’m not even sure where I’ll go. Back to Scotland, with my sister-in-law telling me what a burden I am, I suppose.”

 

Belinda put a hand on my shoulder. “I’d let you stay on here, but there’s nowhere for you to sleep when my maid comes back. And it does rather cramp one’s style having a friend asleep on a downstairs sofa.”

 

“Of course I realize I can’t stay on here,” I said.

 

“But you have the family home on Belgrave Square,” she said. “Oodles of bedrooms. What’s wrong with that?”

 

“Nothing, except that Fig made it quite clear they couldn’t afford to open it up just for me. Apparently even the small amount of coal I’d use to heat one bedroom is beyond their means.”

 

“Your brother is really as hard up as that?” Belinda asked.

 

“His wife claims he is. Actually I think she’s just naturally stingy, and she doesn’t want any of their money spent on me. She’s told me over and over that Binky’s responsibility for me ended when I had my season. It’s my fault that I haven’t married well.”

 

“Speaking of marriage . . .” She paused. “What news of Darcy? He’s still in the picture, isn’t he?”

 

“When he’s around,” I said. I stared out past her, at the white painted front door. “I haven’t seen him in a while. You know Darcy. He shows up, it’s heaven and then he goes again and I never know where he is or when he’ll come back. He’s the most infuriating man, Belinda. He doesn’t even have a proper London address. He borrows friends’ houses when they are out of town, sleeps on their couches. And half the time he can’t tell me where he’s going.”

 

“Georgie, who does he actually work for when he takes these little jobs—do you know? Do you think it’s something frightfully illegal, like drug running for gangsters?”

 

“Golly, I don’t think so,” I replied. “Some of the things he does do tend to be remarkably hush-hush. I think he takes almost any assignment he’s offered, but mostly on the right side of the law.” I looked around and lowered my voice, even though we were alone and the storm was raging. “In fact sometimes I think he might be employed as a spy by the government on occasion. He doesn’t say and I don’t ask. I know he’s trying to make enough money so that we can get married. . . .”

 

“You’re engaged, darling?” She grabbed my hands.

 

I felt my cheeks going red. “Well, sort of secretly. We can’t announce an engagement until Darcy feels he can support me, and heaven knows when that might be. I’ve told him I wouldn’t mind living in a little flat, but he’s determined to do the thing properly.”