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

 

 

She took my hand and hugged it to her. I suppose I’d always secretly admired Belinda for the fearless and reckless way she lived. She was someone who knew how to take care of herself, who took risks, who never considered consequences. This was the first time I had ever seen a chink in her armor.

 

She sat up suddenly and brushed tears from her face. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “What must you think of me?”

 

“You’ve had a really bad experience. You’ve had your heart broken. But it will all work out. You’ll go away to the Continent for a few months, then you’ll come back to London and get on with your life.”

 

“I know one thing. I’m going to stay well away from men. I’m done with men forever.”

 

“You were prepared to be rather chummy with Sir Toby Blenchley not long ago,” I couldn’t resist saying.

 

“Stupid of me. I was really flattered that a powerful man like that would want someone like me. It did cross my mind that he might set me up as his mistress and I’d be safe. But when he left I came down to earth and realized he just wanted someone for uncomplicated sex. I just happened to be willing and available. But no more, Georgie. I’m going to live like a nun from now on. In fact I may enter a convent.”

 

This made me start to laugh. I couldn’t help myself. “I’m sorry, but the thought of you in a convent, Belinda . . .”

 

She looked at my face and began laughing too. “I’d certainly shake the place up, wouldn’t I?” she said. Then she grew solemn again. “What am I going to do with my life, Georgie? In Hollywood I really thought I’d get married and settle down. But after this, who would ever want me? I’ll never shake off my reputation and I have virtually no money that any man would want.”

 

“You’ll meet a nice chap one day who won’t care,” I said. “And in the meantime you will hide yourself away in Mummy’s villa somewhere and you’ll go back to your fashion designs. You’re a good designer, you know. You could return to London with a complete collection.” I waved my hands as I became more enthusiastic. “Design something that Mummy would wear. She’ll show it off for you and get you orders. She may even find you people who will pay up and not want things on credit.”

 

She gave me a wet smile. “Yes, maybe that’s a good idea. I have to do something. Thank you, Georgie. I’m so glad you know now. It will make things easier.” Then she looked at me curiously. “So tell me. Why are you here? Who did you come to see?”

 

“I came to check whether Bobo Carrington was ever here,” I said.

 

Her face lit up. “She was.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“One of the maids is rather chatty. I don’t know how Bobo’s name came up but she said to me, ‘She was here, you know. Under another name, but I recognized her from her pictures.’”

 

“Brilliant,” I said. “Do you think there’s a chance I could talk to this maid?”

 

“I’ll go and see if I can find her,” she said. “Wait here. And if anyone asks, you’ve come to visit me.”

 

“Of course.” I watched her get up and walk to the door. I was still finding her news hard to take in. I felt shivery and moved closer to the fire. I was sitting with my hands extended toward the flames when Belinda returned with a sheepish-looking redheaded girl.

 

“This is Maureen,” Belinda said. “She’s from Ireland.” She turned to the girl. “This lady is a friend of Bobo Carrington’s.”

 

“Are you, miss?” she asked. “I was ever so fond of her. Of course, she didn’t use her proper name when she was here.”

 

“She was called Kathleen, wasn’t she?”

 

“That’s right, miss. That’s how we got friendly. She was originally from Ireland too. We talked about it and she knew the place I’d come from. Fancy that.”

 

“Maureen, I don’t suppose the child’s father came to visit, did he?”

 

“Oh no, miss. You rarely see a man in here.”

 

“And did she ever let on who the father was?”

 

“She didn’t say a word. But someone important, I know that. I got the feeling he couldn’t marry her because he was already married. But she did say it was all over between them. I know she wanted to keep the baby, which most of the ladies don’t. She said she’d like to buy a little house in the country and keep the baby out there. She said she’d got money saved up. Nobody need know. And you know what, miss? She suggested I might like to come and work for her—help take care of the baby.”

 

“Did she?”

 

“She did. But I haven’t heard from her since, so I have to think that she’s found someone better. A real nursemaid, maybe.”

 

She looked incredibly disappointed.

 

“Maybe someone in her family is looking after the baby,” I suggested.

 

“That may be right, miss. I know her mum knew about it.”