Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
“It’s here somewhere.” He went into his cubby and rummaged around, producing a stack of calling cards and papers. “Hold on. Just a minute. Here we are.” He produced a grubby index card. “It’s 28 Cambridge Mansions, Cambridge Street.”
“Oh dear, where would that be, do you know?”
“Just behind Victoria Station, I believe. Not too far from here because she had to walk the last time we had a pea-souper fog and the buses weren’t running.”
I took out the small notebook from my purse and copied down the address. “Thank you, Frederick. You have been most helpful. But I’m so worried about dear Bobo. I wonder if any of her other friends would know more about what happened to her? Whom do you think I could ask? I’ve been living at home in the country so I’m completely out of touch with her friends these days.”
“I couldn’t say, miss.” His face was expressionless. “Not many friends come to visit here. At least not when I’m on duty.”
Was he hinting that most of Bobo’s friends came after dark?
“Perhaps someone at Gussie Gormsley’s tonight will know more,” I said. “Thank you again.”
And out I went into the fog. In a way it had been a frustrating visit. I hadn’t learned any more about Bobo—or had I? One thing was obvious: she lived in a very expensive flat in the most expensive part of London. But her jewelry was flashy and paste, not real. She had no job and apparently no family. So how could she afford to live there? I’d have to find out from Sir Jeremy this afternoon who was paying the rent on that flat, and whether the person (presumably male) who paid the rent was also paying the doorman to keep silent.
I WOULD HAVE loved to pay a call on Mrs. Preston, to wheedle information out of her, and maybe even find a way to persuade her to lend me the key to Bobo’s flat, but I knew that I should return to Kensington Palace in case Marina was ready to attack Harrods. I hopped on a bus that crept at a snail’s pace along Knightsbridge, then into Kensington and finally stopped at the entrance to Kensington Gardens. I almost sprinted up the Broad Walk and into the palace, where I found Irmtraut staring out of the window with a petulant expression on her face.
“No, Her Highness has not returned,” she said. “Prince George is not wise to keep her out in this fog. It will be bad for her lungs and is most disagreeable.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it’s a classic pea-souper,” I said.
She frowned. “But no. Pea soup is green. This fog is dirty brown.”
“I think it just implies that it’s very thick,” I said.
“Ah. Another English joke maybe?”
“Not much of a joke. It’s horrible out there.”
“You went for a walk in such weather?” she asked. “You English have great fortitude.”
“No, actually I went to visit a friend I thought was coming to the party with us tonight. But she was not at home.”
Irmtraut sniffed. “This party. There will be drinking and loud noise?”
“Oh yes. A lot of both, I’m afraid.”
“Then I shall stay here. I do not like such things. But I trust you will watch over Princess Marina.”
“Oh yes, don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her all evening,” I said.
“No, you must keep more than one eye. You must keep both eyes,” she said.
Luckily at that moment I heard voices and Princess Marina returned, accompanied by the major. They were both laughing, in animated conversation, and I thought how attractive they both looked, in contrast to the glum, surly Irmtraut.
“At last you return,” Irmtraut said. “This fog, it is not good for the chest.”
“Oh, nonsense, Traudi,” Marina said. “I was in a car or in the house most of the time and the major arrived to give me a lift back here. You should see my house. It will be absolutely splendid. George has quite good taste and we even agree on wallpaper!”
“You’ve also been out in this foul weather, Lady Georgiana?” the major asked.
“Yes, I went to visit a friend and annoyingly she wasn’t there. So a trip for nothing.”
“I see.” His eyes held mine for a second and I wondered if he thought I’d been out investigating. Then he turned and gave a polite nod to Marina. “I must get back to my duties, Your Royal Highness. If you will excuse me.”
“Of course. Thank you for the ride.”
“Major, I’d like to take Princess Marina to Harrods this morning, if a car will be available for us.”
“Good idea. Of course. I’ll have the motor waiting whenever you’re ready.”
As the major left she exclaimed, “He is really quite charming, is he not? But he is clearly unhappy with his present role of housekeeper. He’d rather be back with his regiment, he says. They are due to sail to the Far East soon and he wants to be with them.”
“Yes, it must be hard to adapt to this kind of civilian life after a military career,” I replied.
We had some coffee and then we went to Harrods. Marina enjoyed herself thoroughly, especially, I think, because Irmtraut was so shocked at her choice of underwear.