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

 

She nodded. “I was such a fool, Georgie,” she said. “Such a bloody fool. There was this man, you see. He was just perfect—handsome, debonair, big motorcar, lots of money. A Hollywood producer, or so he said. You know how they talk over there. He made me think he was so successful and he knew everybody. I suppose it was being out of my own environment, but I fell for him rather hard. It was all wonderful and I actually believed he loved me. I really thought he wanted to marry me.” She put her hand up to her mouth and turned away from me, taking a moment to collect herself before she continued. “Well, now that I look back on it, he didn’t actually say the word ‘marriage,’ but he certainly implied it. Or implied that he wanted us to be together, and I believed him.” She turned away again, staring out at rain that was now streaking the windows. “I’ve always made fun of you for being so na?ve. I can’t believe how stupidly na?ve I was. I bloody well believed him, Georgie.”

 

I nodded, to show that I understood.

 

She sighed. “I was usually so careful, you know. Took the right precautions. So good about my little bowler hat. But I suppose I let my guard down with him. And when I found out that I was—you know—I thought, ‘Well, so what? He’ll marry me.’ So I told him.”

 

“And what did he say?”

 

“He was completely offhand. He said it wasn’t really his business, but since I was such a nice kid he knew of a doctor who took care of these things. Wouldn’t charge me too much.”

 

“Belinda, how horrid. So you came home.”

 

She nodded. “I came home. I didn’t know what to do. I realized I couldn’t have the baby, of course. There was no way. My family would cut me off completely. So I had no alternative. I’d heard other girls talk about this place, so I made up my mind in the middle of the night, and I bolted. Didn’t want to tell a soul. I thought I could take care of it and be back in London and nobody would be any the wiser.”

 

“You came here to have an—?” I couldn’t make myself say the word out loud.

 

She nodded. “I was supposed to have it yesterday. But when it came to it I couldn’t do it. I simply couldn’t do it, Georgie.”

 

“So what’s going to happen now?” I asked. “What will you do? Where will you go?”

 

“I have absolutely no idea. They have been very kind here. They told me that many girls go through the same panic as I did and I should stay on for a few days and think it over. They also said that if I decide to have the baby I can come back here when it’s closer to my time and they’ll help with finding a family to adopt it.” Her whole body shook with a huge sigh. “But I simply can’t afford their prices, and I can’t ask anyone for money.”

 

“I’d ask that rat in America,” I said with such vehemence that she looked up at me and actually smiled.

 

“No use in asking him,” she said.

 

“There is no one in your family you can approach?” I asked. “Your grandmother is rich, isn’t she?”

 

“My grandmother is the most correct lady in the world. She would do the whole ‘do not darken my door again’ routine.” She sighed again. “I suppose I have come to think that an abortion is the only option.”

 

“You could go abroad to have the baby. Lots of girls do, so I hear.”

 

She nodded. “I suppose so. One can live cheaply in Italy. Part of me would really like to keep the baby, but that’s stupid, isn’t it? I can’t make enough to support myself and if the family found out about it, I’d be cut off from my inheritance—which will be considerable when Granny dies.”

 

I smiled at her. “If we were back in America, we could hire a hitman to bump her off.”

 

She had to laugh then. “Georgie, there is a wild side to you I’d never noticed before.”

 

“I’m just trying to think of all possibilities, Belinda. There must be something.”

 

“No, I think you’re right. Abroad it must be. I’ll stick around until, you know, it starts to show and then I’ll rent out my London place and retreat to a small village in the mountains or on a lake somewhere. God, it sounds pretty bleak, doesn’t it?”

 

The words “on a lake” had triggered a thought. “I’ve just had a brilliant idea, Belinda. My mother. She has that villa in Nice and the new one on the lake in Lugano and she’s never there. I bet she’d let you stay at either one if I asked her. She’d understand what you’re going through. She’s probably been through it herself, knowing the way she has lived.”

 

“But why would your mother do anything for me?” she asked.

 

“Because I’d ask her to.”

 

She turned eyes brimming with tears up to me. “Gosh, Georgie. You’ve given me a sliver of hope for the first time. I’m going to pack my things and go back to London.” She reached out to me. “Will you write to her immediately?”