Royal Blood - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,53

I’m exactly sorry. Couldn’t stand the bastard, but Papa is not going to be thrilled. I suppose I should go in there and support my brother, although I can’t stand the sight of dead bodies in general and I’m sure that Pirin’s will be more revolting than most of them.”

He held out his arm to me. “I should probably be gentlemanly and escort you to the safety of the drawing room first, in case you faint or something.”

“Do I look as if I’m about to faint?” I asked.

“You look a little green,” he said, “but I expect I do too. At least he had the courtesy to wait until the meal was over before he died. I’d have hated to miss that wild boar.” And he gave me a grin that reminded me of a naughty schoolboy.

“I’m all right. I’ll find my own way,” I said. “I expect your brother would like to have you with him.”

Everyone was behaving with the greatest decorum, leaving the table quietly, some of them glancing across at the archway to the anteroom where Pirin’s feet could be seen sticking off the end of the couch. I heard my mother’s clear voice over the discreet murmur. “The way that man wolfed down his food and drink he was a heart attack waiting to happen.”

I wanted desperately to be with Darcy, but I couldn’t think of a good reason to intrude, as a mere guest at the castle. But I lingered as long as I dared until most of the company had passed through the big double doors and then slowly followed Anton toward the anteroom. As I neared the entrance of the anteroom I heard Lady Middlesex’s strident voice saying, “Heart attack, my foot. It is quite clear that the man was poisoned.”

Chapter 17

Bran Castle plus dead body

Still November 17

I needed no further reason to enter that room. After all, I had experienced more of my share of murder than most young women of my station in life. I was just about to follow Anton inside when Darcy came out, almost colliding with me.

“Hello,” he said. “I was just coming to find you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?” I demanded.

“At the time of our last conversation I had no idea that you were planning to attend the wedding,” he said. “And your terrifying sister-in-law made it quite clear I was never to communicate with you again.”

“So when did you ever do what anyone told you?” I asked.

He smiled and I felt some of the tension of the past days melting away. Now that he was here I felt that I could tackle vampires, werewolves or brigands. I was brought back to frightening reality when Darcy pushed past me and grabbed the nearest footman who was starting to clear the table.

“No,” he said. “Leave it. Leave everything.” The servants looked up at him, confused and suspicious. Darcy poked his head back into the anteroom and beckoned to Dragomir. “I need your help right away,” he said. “I don’t speak Romanian or whatever they speak in these parts. Please tell the servants not to touch anything and to leave the table exactly as it is.”

Dragomir stared at him suspiciously. Darcy repeated the command in remarkably good French.

“May I ask what authority you have here? You are from the police, monsieur?” Dragomir asked.

“Let’s just say I have some experience in these matters and my one wish is that we handle this in a way that does not embarrass the royal houses of Romania or Bulgaria,” Darcy said. “The servants should not be told the truth at this point. This is a most delicate matter and is not to be spoken about, is that clear?”

Dragomir looked long and hard at him, then nodded and barked a command at the servants. The men hastily put down the plates they were collecting and stepped back from the table.

“Tell them that nobody else is to come into the dining room, and tell them I would like to speak to them shortly so they should not go anywhere.”

That command was also repeated, although in surly and unwilling fashion, and I saw inquiring glances directed at Darcy, who didn’t appear to notice.

“We should go back in there.” Darcy turned to me. “Nicholas will find himself in a pretty pickle, I’m afraid, if we don’t do something quickly.”

“Is it true, do you think?” I whispered to Darcy. “Was Field Marshal Pirin poisoned?”

“Absolutely,” Darcy said in a low voice. “All the signs point