Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
I turned to look at him, noticing that his eyes were smiling and he was so devilishly handsome. But I was going to be strong this time. I would not be swayed by Irish charm and good looks. “And the DCI thinks you’re involved in drugs and the underworld. What have you got to say about that?”
“Well, he’s not wrong,” he said.
“Aha. I knew it. And he suspects Bobo’s death might be tied to her drug use and to her dealings with drug suppliers.”
“Actually I have been involved,” he said. “But not in the way you think. This is to go no further, Georgie, but I’ve been shadowing people like Bobo because I was assigned to find the kingpin. We know who the small dealers are, but we are still not sure how cocaine is getting into this country in such large quantities.”
“Oh,” I said. “And you suspect that Bobo might have had something to do with it?”
“Possibly,” he said. “She certainly seemed to have an apparently inexhaustible supply of cash, even when she was not with a particular man. It had to come from somewhere. I was hoping to get back into her confidence, when she was killed.”
“So someone killed her to prevent her from giving away secrets to you?”
“I don’t know. The timing was rather coincidental, don’t you think?”
There was a long pause. I still wasn’t ready to forgive him completely. “So how do you think I feel, knowing that you were in London and you didn’t try to contact me, but you were going to clubs with people like Bobo Carrington?” I said. “Or am I too dull for such outings?”
“Contact you?” His voice was sharp now too. “My dear girl, as soon as I returned to England I wrote to Castle Rannoch, asking them to forward the letter. I telephoned several times and each time I was told by your infuriating butler that Lady Georgiana was not in residence and they did not know where she was or when she would be returning home. Then I went to your London house and was told the same thing.”
“Probably Fig being poisonous,” I said. “But then partly my fault. I really didn’t let them know where I was staying when I came back to England.”
“With your mother, I presume?”
“No, I was using Belinda’s mews cottage until she returned and turfed me out. Then fortunately I was invited to Kensington Palace.”
“Quite a step up in the world,” he said. He paused, eyeing me critically. “You look washed out. I’ll get us a taxicab. If you’ll permit me to escort you home, that is?”
I couldn’t look at him. “I’m sorry, Darcy,” I said. “I suppose I jumped to conclusions.”
He looked at me then burst out laughing. “Oh, Georgie, what an idiot you can be sometimes.”
I turned away. “Fine. Go ahead. Laugh. How do you think you would feel if a policeman told you that I’d been carrying on an affair behind your back? And he was enjoying telling me, too.”
He took my arm and turned me to face him. He was looking deadly serious now. “Georgie, we have no hope of a successful marriage if we can’t trust one another.”
“You’re right,” I said. “It’s just that everyone else seems to take bed-hopping for granted. Everybody in London has slept with everybody else, except me.”
He smiled at me, his eyes sparkling, and reached out a finger to stroke my cheek. “Poor little Georgie. So deprived. And now you’ll never get the chance, because I’m keeping you all to myself.”
“That’s fine with me as long as the same rules apply to you,” I said.
“Absolutely.”
“You really mean that?”
“I do.”
We stood there, looking at each other. Then I flung myself into his arms. “Oh, Darcy, I’ve been so miserable,” I said.
That was the last thing I said for a long time as his lips came down to meet mine. When we broke apart we were both rather breathless and I was looking a trifle disheveled.
“I can’t keep up this celibacy thing forever,” Darcy muttered. “I’ve a good mind to rip off your clothes right here and now and make love to you on that table.”
I laughed uneasily. “I wouldn’t mind,” I said, “but I’d hate to be interrupted, and I rather think it might not be appreciated in a place as hallowed as this.”
He smoothed back my hair. “I’m so tempted to suggest we run off to Gretna Green right now and get married and to hell with everything.”
“That would be fine with me too,” I said. “I’ve always told you that I’d be happy to live anywhere, as long as it was with you. But I can’t elope right now, not when the queen has charged me with looking after Princess Marina.” I looked nervously toward the doorway. “Speaking of which, I’d probably better go back to the palace. She’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.”
“Nonsense. She’ll understand. I think she’s a romantic, isn’t she?”
“I don’t know. I think she’s fairly realistic.”
“She’ll have to be, married to good old George,” Darcy said.
“You don’t think he’ll change once he’s married?”
“Probably not. Infidelity does seem to run in your family, apart from the king and queen.”
“And the Yorks. They are frightfully monogamous.”