Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
Wild thoughts were racing through my head. I was conscious of our voices, echoing around the foyer, of the staircase disappearing into darkness below and the feeling of being utterly isolated from the world. If I screamed, probably nobody would ever hear me. I looked around. Smooth marble, high painted ceiling above. Nothing to use as a weapon. Utterly defenseless.
“On second thought,” I said brightly, “I think I will deliver that message to Princess Alice tonight. I’ll write her a little note so that she gets it first thing in the morning when she wakes up.”
And I turned and marched deliberately up the stairs. I could sense he was right behind me, but I wasn’t going to turn around. If I could just reach her front door . . . just hammer on it . . .
But as I came to the top of the stairs he slid past, standing between me and Princess Alice’s suite. “Oh no, my dear. I suggest we go downstairs again. To my place. A nice hot drink, eh?”
He was still being polite and friendly but I knew beyond any doubt that the drink would contain Veronal. A stronger dose this time to make sure he didn’t actually have to suffocate me.
“You obviously think I’m completely na?ve,” I said. “I don’t want to meet the same fate as poor Bobo. How did you know I’d figured it out?”
“I saw the way you looked at Princess Alice when she said she’d seen me coming home when she was going to bed. You sneaked a glance at me and you studied my uniform, didn’t you? I realized then that you’d noticed the sequin that got caught in the braid. A big sequin from her dress. I didn’t see it initially. No batman to take care of me, you see.”
Of course, I thought. Something sparkling. Something that my subconscious took in as incongruous. How stupid of me.
“You were going to find out what time Princess Alice went to bed, weren’t you? And when I heard her servant say she had already retired I knew you’d tell Sir Jeremy as soon as you found a telephone.”
I inched away from him, still saying nothing.
“I didn’t want to do any of this, you know,” he said. “I had no qualms about killing her. She was a scheming little bitch. But you . . . if only I could trust you to stay silent. But I can’t, can I? You have the moral fiber of your ancestors. You’d have to tell the truth. So I’m sorry. I really am. But it’s my whole future, you see. Everything I’ve lived and worked for.”
I glanced first at the major and then down the stairs. The front door was still open. If I ran fast enough down the stairs I might make it out of the door before him. But I was wearing an evening gown and dainty little slippers. He could outrun me. He could just as easily catch me in the darkness of the park.
If I went the other way—the way he wasn’t expecting, into the royal galleries—I might have a chance. Plenty of places to hide, maybe a weapon of some sort with which to defend myself. And maybe another staircase I could slip down and out into the night. I lifted my skirt so that I could run more easily, then I turned and fled into the darkness. My footsteps clattered and echoed across the landing. After the dim lighting of the foyer it was pitch-black in there. I blundered into a glass case containing some kind of exhibit, felt my way around it, and around a second, and through to a second room. I heard him curse behind me as he obviously bumped into something too. Now I was used to the dark I could vaguely make out old furniture, a display of costumes. I didn’t hesitate another second. I jumped up and took up position in the middle of the display among the mannequins.
Just in time. He came blundering past. His breath echoed loudly. “You can’t go on hiding, you know. I’ll find you. There’s only one way out.”
I stayed perfectly still among the mannequins. There was a chance he’d think I’d gone through to the other rooms and then I could creep down the stairs.
Rats. He was coming back. I could hear his breath, ragged with agitation now.
“There’s a light switch here somewhere,” he said.