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

 

 

“I had a sidecar last time I was here and your bartender made it very well,” I said, not wanting it to be known that my experience with cocktails was limited in the extreme—although it had broadened a little on my first transatlantic crossing.

 

“Splendid,” Gussie said. “Two sidecars please, Albert.” He turned back to us. “I’ve trained my man to be a splendid bartender, don’t you think? He keeps threatening to leave me and get a job in the bar at the Savoy. Only they wouldn’t pay him as well, isn’t that right, Albert?”

 

Albert gave a wan smile so that we couldn’t tell whether he agreed with this or not, and went on shaking the cocktail.

 

“So where is your intended, Gussie?” I asked.

 

He made a face. “At home with her mother, I’m afraid. Mother’s just had an operation so my bride has deserted me to minister at her bedside.”

 

“Oh, that’s too bad,” I said.

 

He gave me a knowing grin. “She doesn’t actually like this kind of shindig anyway. I think it’s a good excuse, personally. But never mind. We’ll enjoy ourselves, won’t we?”

 

Gussie put a hand on my shoulder, making me remember a not-so-pleasant experience with him once. But then he had been very drunk. “And I gather it’s to be a right royal evening tonight. I’ve told everyone to be on their best behavior and practice their ‘sir’s and ‘ma’am’s.”

 

“Really?” I asked, giving him a worried look in case he was referring to Prince George, who had been known to come to Gussie’s parties.

 

Gussie’s face lit up as the front door opened. “And here they are now. Jolly good.” He abandoned us and pushed his way across the crowded foyer as the Prince of Wales came into view. He was dressed impeccably in evening attire as usual and I was not in the least surprised to see he was accompanied by Mrs. Simpson, wearing the black beaded evening gown she had worn on the ship crossing the Atlantic. I was, however, surprised to see Mr. Simpson in tow, looking broody and uncomfortable. Well, who wouldn’t?

 

“Good of you to come, sir.” Gussie pumped the prince’s hand with enthusiasm.

 

“Wouldn’t miss one of your parties for anything, Gussie,” the prince said in his light drawl. “And I believe you’ve met my friends Mr. and Mrs. Simpson.”

 

“Of course. So glad you could make it.” Gussie was the soul of discretion. “What can I get you to drink?”

 

“A whiskey,” Mr. Simpson growled. “And better make it a double while you’re at it.”

 

I wondered why he still bothered to accompany her when everyone in London society knew about his wife and the prince. Surely it must have felt most embarrassing. For that matter, why hadn’t he divorced her yet? Perhaps chivalry was not dead and he was waiting for her to divorce him. Or perhaps she still needed his money to fund her expensive clothing habit.

 

Albert handed us our drinks and Gussie steered the prince in our direction. “I expect you’ve met your new sister-in-law, sir,” he said. “And of course you know Georgiana.”

 

“Hello, sir,” I said.

 

“What-ho, Georgie. Looking stylish tonight.” The prince nodded to me then took Marina’s hand. “Actually we haven’t met yet. How do you do, Marina? So glad to meet you at last. You’re far too good for my brother, of course. Make sure you make him toe the line, what?”

 

“So pleased to meet you at last, David,” she said. “However, I’m not sure it’s always an easy task to make royal princes toe the line, as you put it.” She was wonderful, wasn’t she?

 

The prince grinned appreciatively and introduced Mrs. Simpson. Her husband had already melted into the crowd, nursing his double whiskey.

 

“Why, you’re not at all what we expected, is she, David?” Mrs. Simpson said, holding on to Marina’s hand. “So elegant. So composed. And that gown—it had to come from Paris!”

 

“From Worth,” Marina said.

 

“See, David. What did I tell you? You can’t find anything fashionable in London. One really has to have a flat in Paris to pop across and buy clothes.”

 

“Oh, I disagree,” Marina said. “Molyneux is making my wedding dress and it’s absolutely lovely. And Georgiana and I had great fun at Harrods this morning buying things for my trousseau.”

 

Mrs. Simpson turned that formidable gaze onto me.

 

“You’re also looking quite elegant these days, Georgiana, honey,” she said. “I take it Mummy helped you choose that gown. Is she still around or did she stay on to become a star in Hollywood?”