Royal Blood - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,18
Harrods’ food hall for pâté and fruit, it would have been the end of me. Besides, if Florrie wouldn’t dare to cross London during a fog, I don’t think she’d have the spunk to make it across the Channel, let alone to Romania.”
“What about when you go abroad?”
“I leave her behind. I can’t really afford a second ticket. There are usually enough servants to take care of me at the sort of villas I like to visit.”
“Then do you have any suggestions as to where I might find a maid? Anybody you know who might be going on a cruise or to the south of France and leaving their maid behind?”
“People with money never leave their maids behind,” Belinda said. “They take them along. You could probably pick up the right sort of girl in Paris, if you go a few days ahead.”
“Belinda, I have no idea where one would find a maid in Paris. My mother took me there a couple of times when I was little and we went once with the school. Besides, I’d have to pay a French maid money that I don’t have.”
“That’s true,” Belinda agreed. “They are frightfully expensive. But worth it. If I wasn’t living this miserable existence, I’d have a French maid like a shot. My dear step-mother has one, but then Daddy gives her everything she wants.” She dropped a sugar cube into her teacup. “Speaking of mothers, why don’t you ask yours to cough up the money for a French maid?”
“I never know where to find my mother,” I said. “Besides, I don’t like asking her for things.” A thought crossed my mind. “We could try asking Florrie if she knows any girls who are looking for work and want a taste of adventure.”
“Anyone Florrie knows wouldn’t want a taste of adventure,” Belinda said. “She must be one of the most boring creatures on earth.” But she rang the bell.
Florrie came rushing back into the room. “Did I forget something on the tea tray, miss?” she asked, anxiously clutching at her apron.
“No, Florrie. Lady Georgiana has a request of you. Go ahead, Georgie.”
“Florrie,” I said, “I am looking for a maid. You don’t happen to know of any suitable girls who are out of work, do you?”
“I might, your ladyship.”
“And would be up for a little adventure, traveling abroad?”
“Abroad? What, like France, you mean? They say it’s terrible dangerous over there. Men pinch your bottom.” Florrie’s eyes opened wide.
“Farther away than France. And even more dangerous,” Belinda said. “All the way across Europe on a train.”
“Ooh, no, miss. I don’t know no girls who’d want to do that. Sorry, your ladyship.” She bobbed an awkward curtsy and fled.
“You needn’t have played up the danger,” I said. “We’ll only be on a train and in a royal castle.”
“You don’t want one who’s going to lose her nerve halfway across Europe and beg you in tears to be taken home,” Belinda said. “Besides, what if the train is attacked by brigands—or wolves?”
“Belinda!” I laughed nervously. “Things like that don’t happen anymore.”
“In the Balkans they do—all the time. And what about that train buried in an avalanche? They didn’t dig them out for days.” She looked at me, then burst out laughing. “Why the somber face? You’re going to have topping fun.”
“When I’m not suffocating in an avalanche or being attacked by brigands or wolves.”
“And Transylvania is part of Romania these days, isn’t it?” Belinda was warming to her subject. “You might meet a vampire.”
“Oh, come on, Belinda. There are no vampires.”
“Think how intriguing that would be. I understand it is utter ecstasy to be bitten on the neck. Even more of a rush than sex. Of course, I believe one then becomes one of the undead, but it would be worth it just for the experience.”
“I have no wish to become undead, thank you,” I said, laughing uneasily.
“Come to think of it, I’m sure Matty told us that their ancestral home was actually in the mountains of Transylvania, so there you are. Vampires everywhere. How I envy you the experience. I do wish I were coming with you.” Suddenly she sat up straight, nearly knocking over the little tea table. “I have a brilliant idea. Why don’t I come along as your maid?”
I stared at her and started to laugh. “Belinda. Don’t be absurd,” I said. “Why on earth would you want to be my maid?”
“Because you’re invited to a royal wedding in Transylvania and I’m not and I’m bored and it