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

 

 

“Thank you. I think I’ve pushed my luck enough for one night,” I said. “But I think I’d better go and cash these in first.”

 

“We’ll help you.” My two new suitors picked up my tokens and carried them for me to the cashier.

 

“Would you please keep my winnings for me until I’m ready to go?” I asked. “I’m about to have supper and I’ve nowhere to put money in this purse.”

 

“Of course, my lady.” His face betrayed no reaction at all.

 

“I should check on Princess Marina,” I said. “I shouldn’t leave her alone.” I was trying to think of a way to have her asked to supper too, but one of them beat me to it.

 

“Ask her to supper too, eh, Monty?”

 

“Oh rather,” Monty agreed. “Old George would want us to take care of his intended.” And they both grinned as if this was a good joke. I suspected they had seen George at Crockford’s with many different partners over the years, and I rather wished that I had had more time to examine that guest book and see exactly whose name had appeared next to his.

 

I went in search of the princess, who was now playing vingt-et-un, and told her we’d been invited to supper by two young men.

 

“How terribly sweet of them.” She stood up from the table. “Frankly, I think I’ve tired of gambling for tonight. I don’t seem to be winning recently. And supper with two nice young men does sound like fun. It might make George jealous.”

 

Our escorts were waiting and introduced themselves formally as Monty and Whiffie. We never did find out what Whiffie’s real name was but we had a merry supper. I could see why Belinda liked it here. It was a world of fantasy. And I realized I had two habitués at my fingertips, who knew the club well.

 

“Did you happen to meet an American man who came here with Sir Toby last week?” I asked.

 

“With Sir Toby? Tall, serious sort of chap, wasn’t he?” Monty frowned, trying to picture him. “Didn’t seem to be having fun at all.”

 

“I heard he had some sort of argument with Bobo Carrington,” I said.

 

“You’re right, Bobo was here that evening. But I didn’t see any kind of confrontation. She was only here briefly. Actually we hadn’t seen her in ages, had we, Whiffie, old thing?”

 

“That’s right,” Whiffie replied. “We commented on the fact. Someone said, ‘Bobo’s come back into circulation, I notice,’ and we had a bet as to who she’d make a beeline for. But next time we looked around, she’d gone again.”

 

“And the American man too?”

 

“No, I think he stayed on. At least, Sir Toby did.”

 

“So you haven’t seen Bobo with anyone else recently?”

 

“Haven’t seen her at all. She must have been on the Continent.”

 

“Sir Toby went to America. Perhaps she tagged along,” Whiffie said. “I know his wife stayed home.” They exchanged another grin.

 

“Sir Toby? Was Bobo involved with him?”

 

“So rumor had it. Of course he was always very careful in public. Got an image to live up to, what?” The two men laughed.

 

“Sir Toby Blenchley?” Marina asked. “Is he not a member of Parliament here?”

 

“Cabinet minister, old thing—I mean, Your Highness.”

 

Marina looked around the room, where various couples sat together at tables. “I suppose powerful men do not always behave as they should,” she said thoughtfully. I wondered if she was wondering about rumors she had heard of her future husband. Irmtraut had definitely heard them and might have spilled the beans.

 

Our table companions also picked up her troubled look. “Well, it’s one thing to play the field before marriage,” one of them said, “but when one is a cabinet minister, I mean, dash it all . . .”

 

I digested this new fact. Sir Toby Blenchley, he who preached the sanctity of the family, had had Bobo Carrington as his mistress. Who had more to lose than he if this fact became known?

 

Monty and Whiffie were good company and we laughed a lot over oysters and smoked salmon and soufflés. It was getting late by the time they brought our coffees. I tried to stifle a yawn, but Marina saw it. “We should be going,” she said. “I have a busy day tomorrow. Another fitting for my dress, and then I’m meeting my parents off the boat train.”

 

“Your parents are arriving? Where will they be staying?”

 

“They were invited to stay at Buckingham Palace with the king and queen, but they wanted something a little less formal, so they’ve opted for the Dorchester instead.”

 

I tried to picture a life in which the Dorchester counted as less formal. I smiled. “How lovely for you to have them here.”

 

“I’m not so sure. Mummy and my sisters will want to come shopping with me and I rather enjoy our adventures alone, don’t you?”