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

 

 

“I don’t think she wants anything, Fig,” Binky’s voice answered. “We met on the pavement quite by chance and I invited her to come in, of course.”

 

“Really, Binky, you are too tiresome,” Fig’s voice went on. “You don’t think, do you? I am not even up and dressed. You should have told her to come back at a more suitable hour.”

 

“Dash it all, Fig, she is my sister,” Binky said. “This is her home.”

 

“This is our home now, Binky. Your sister has been off for months, God knows where, making her own life—as well she should, since she’s no longer your responsibility.” A heavy sigh followed. “Well, go downstairs and entertain her and I suppose I’ll have to get up. I was looking forward to a long lie-in with Country Life this morning too.”

 

I tiptoed through to the dining room as Binky came down the stairs again.

 

“Fig will join us in a minute,” he said, managing a bright smile. “Slept in late today, don’t you know. But do go ahead and tuck in. I’m sure it’s all still hot.”

 

I did as I was told and sat down with a plate piled with kedgeree, kidneys, scrambled egg and bacon. It was a feast such as I hadn’t had in a while and it made me wonder whether Fig’s legacy had been big enough to have improved their standard of living. When I had last been at home at Castle Rannoch, Fig’s catering had been decidedly on the mean side, to the point of replacing the Cooper’s Oxford marmalade with Golden Shred.

 

Coffee was brought and I had almost cleaned my plate when I heard footsteps tapping down the hall and Fig came in. “Georgiana,” she said in a clipped voice, “what a surprise. How lovely to see you.” She looked older than when I had seen her last and permanent frown lines were beginning to show on her forehead. She’d never been a beauty but had once had that healthy if horsey look of country women, with a perfect complexion. Now she looked decidedly pasty faced and I felt renewed pity for Binky that he was stuck with someone like this for the rest of his life. If things went as planned I would have Darcy to look at across the breakfast table every morning—a far more desirable prospect.

 

Fig poured herself a cup of coffee then sat down across the table from me. “We didn’t even know you were in town or we would have had you over for a meal. In fact we had no idea where you were, had we, Binky? Your brother was quite worried that he hadn’t heard from you.”

 

“The last we heard was when you went to stay with the Eynsfords,” Binky said, “and there was that spot of bother, wasn’t there? That unpleasant business with poor old Cedric.”

 

“Georgiana does seem to attract unpleasant business,” Fig said. “You’ve been abroad since you left the Eynsfords? We met the dowager duchess at Balmoral and she mentioned something along those lines.”

 

“I went to America with my mother,” I said.

 

“What on earth for? Is she looking for a rich American husband now?” Fig stirred her coffee fiercely.

 

“Oh I say, Fig, that’s really a bit much,” Binky interrupted.

 

“On the contrary. She went there to divorce one.” I smiled at her sweetly. “She is planning to marry the industrialist Max von Strohheim.”

 

“A German?” Fig frowned at my brother. “You hear that, Binky? Georgie’s mother is going to marry a German. How people can forget the Great War so quickly I just do not understand.”

 

“I don’t suppose Georgie’s mum’s beau had much to do with the Great War,” Binky said in his usual affable manner. I didn’t like to say that I thought he had probably made a fortune in supplying arms. His industrial empire was certainly wide reaching. “So did you have a good time in America, Georgie? Were you there long?”

 

“Parts of it were lovely, thank you,” I said. “The crossing on the Berengaria—”

 

“You hear that, Binky?” Fig interrupted. “She sailed on the Berengaria—the millionaires’ ship, they call her. Something I’ll never be able to do. Obviously I went wrong in life. I should have become an actress and had dalliances with all kinds of men, like Georgie’s mother.”

 

“You don’t have the looks, old thing,” Binky said kindly. “You have to admit that Georgie’s mum is an absolute corker.”

 

Fig went rather red and I tried not to choke on my coffee.

 

“She is little better than a high-class tart,” Fig snapped.

 

“Steady on, old thing,” Binky said. “Georgie’s mum may have led a somewhat colorful life but she’s a thoroughly decent sort. Really kind to me when she married Father. She was the only one who could see I was miserable at boarding school.”

 

Fig saw that this battle wasn’t going her way. “You were missed at Balmoral, Georgiana,” she said. “The king and queen both commented on your absence. Quite put out that you weren’t there.”