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

 

 

“That’s not kind,” I said. “He’s a really nice chap. And he adores his wife. So let him be a role model for you, young man.”

 

“I’m sure I’ll be adoring and terribly domestic,” Darcy said. “But I must get you home. Oh, and some chap left an envelope for you on the table. It’s your winnings, I gather.”

 

“Oh yes. I had quite a lucky evening.” It was with delight that I picked up the envelope and opened it. Then my jaw dropped open. “Crikey. There’s a lot of money in here.”

 

“How much did you think you’d won?”

 

“I don’t know. I never thought. Probably twenty pounds.”

 

“Twenty pounds?” He laughed. “This looks more like five hundred and twenty.”

 

I was still speechless. “I had no idea. I know I won a lot of chips but I thought they were maybe five shillings each.”

 

Darcy shook his head. “More like five pounds each.”

 

“Crikey,” I said again. “So that’s why I was so popular tonight. I’ve never had young men fighting over me before. And Monty and Whiffie took me to supper and were so attentive.”

 

“Monty Pratchett and Whiffie Anstruther?”

 

“I never knew their proper names.”

 

“Both younger sons of earls and therefore penniless like me. Obviously trying to snag a young woman with a fortune.”

 

“And they thought I was she. How screamingly funny, Darcy.”

 

“To many people five hundred pounds is a fortune. In the East End they could live for years on that.”

 

I became thoughtful as he opened the door and we crossed the gaming room. “You know, we really could run away to Gretna Green and set up a home on this money,” I said.

 

“I know it’s tempting, but I’ve told you before, I’m not having you live in a poky little place. Your family has certain expectations for you. I want to do the thing properly. I am starting to put money away, Georgie. I’m taking every job I’m offered. And I’d like you to keep that money and know you’ve got some put by for emergencies.”

 

I nodded. “Anyway, I have things to do here,” I said. My wrap was produced and we were ushered into a waiting taxicab. As we drove off I said in a low voice, “As well as looking after the princess, I have to find out who killed Bobo Carrington.”

 

“Surely that’s up to the police.”

 

“You’ve seen DCI Pelham,” I said. “Sir Jeremy is also working behind the scenes to make sure her murder stays out of the newspapers, and I’ve been asked to keep my ears and eyes open too. Just in case someone at Kensington saw something.”

 

“Don’t get too carried away by this, Georgie,” he said. “If drugs are involved, these chaps are nasty customers.”

 

“I’ll leave that side of things to you,” I said. “But the big question is, why was her body lying in a courtyard at Kensington Palace? Not the sort of place she’d meet with a drug dealer. So either she came to see somebody there and was killed because of it, or she was killed by persons unknown somewhere else and her body was dumped there to implicate the royal family and cause a scandal.”

 

“She could have come to the palace to see Princess Marina and tell her about her relationship with Prince George,” he said.

 

“But Marina and I were out dining at Buckingham Palace. I have my suspicions about Marina’s cousin Countess Irmtraut.”

 

He chuckled. “Countess Irmtraut. What a ghastly name.”

 

“Equally ghastly person. Very jealous and protective of Marina. So if Bobo told her who she was, I can quite see Irmtraut killing her. But then why leave her for all to see? Why not at least try to hide the body in some bushes?”

 

“She was disturbed and had to beat a retreat?” he suggested.

 

“Anyway, I don’t know how we’d get her to confess.”

 

“You’ve passed on this suspicion?”

 

“To Sir Jeremy. He’s questioned her.”

 

“So your job is done.”

 

“Not quite,” I said. “I managed to break into Bobo’s flat.”

 

“You did what?” He sounded horrified.

 

“Well, actually I used a key I’d acquired from the cleaning lady.”

 

“Georgie, that’s breaking and entering. Don’t do things like that, please. Leave it to the professionals.”

 

“Only the professionals didn’t discover she had a wall safe behind a painting.”

 

“Then tell them, and don’t do things like that anymore.” He slipped his arm around my shoulder. “Georgie, Bobo was connected to all kinds of people who might be dangerous. You have no way of finding out her various dealings. Nor should you try.”

 

“I am going to follow up on one thing,” I said. “There was an address on her blotting paper. A Mary Boyle in Deptford. I wondered if it might be her maid. I was told she’d had a maid and dismissed her. But I was also told she was fond of her.”