Royal Blood - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,77

Mr. O’Mara’s this morning. I checked particularly when we went on our little walk. He is still here, you mark my words.” She looked down at Miss Deer-Harte and nodded.

“I shall be extra vigilant, Lady M,” Miss Deer-Harte said. “If he is hiding somewhere he will have to come out eventually. He will need a bathroom and food and drink. I shall be watching for him.”

“Well said, Deer-Harte. Splendid stuff. We’ll show them how quickly and efficiently things are done when the flower of British womanhood takes over.” She slapped Miss Deer-Harte on the back, almost knocking her over. “Onward and upward then.”

And she marched down the hall like a general leading troops into battle.

Chapter 24

I was left alone in the cold, drafty hallway. I hadn’t had time to consider what I should do about my big discovery. Whom should I tell that Prince Nicholas was the intended victim? Obviously not the two English ladies. They had caused enough trouble already. In fact, if Lady Middlesex hadn’t spoken up, Pirin’s death might well have been considered a heart attack and we wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable situation with that horrid man Patrascue snooping on us. I couldn’t tell Prince Anton because it was just possible that he was the murderer—although I found that hard to believe. But he did have knowledge of chemistry, he was agile and, as Belinda had said, he was reckless and loved danger. That left Siegfried or Matty and I rather suspected that Siegfried would report anything straight to Patrascue. Matty would probably think it was all a huge joke and not want to take it seriously. So the only person I could talk to was Nicholas himself. He had a right to know and he might have his own suspicions.

I was on my way to seek him out when a clear, melodious voice echoed down the hallway. “Yoohoo, darling!” and there was my mother, hurrying toward me, her long mink coat flying out around her. “There you are, my sweet,” she said. “We’ve been in the same building for several days and hardly had a chance to say a word to each other.”

She caught up with me and we kissed, several inches from each cheek, the way we always did. In spite of the way she showed copious affection to everything in trousers, my mother was not much of a hugger when it came to other women.

“That’s because you don’t like being seen with me,” I said. “It reminds people you are old enough to have a daughter my age.”

“What a wicked thing to say. I adore spending time with you, my sweet, or I would if you led a less boring life. We must do something to liven you up. That dress at dinner last night. So absolutely last year and it hides all the best bits of you. I know you don’t have much bosom, but you should make the most of what you have. You really must let the men see the goods you are offering.”

“Mummy!”

She laughed, that tinkling laugh that had captivated audiences everywhere, and slipped her arm through mine. “You really are so delightfully prudish, my sweet. I put it down to Scottish upbringing. So repressed. Let’s go and have a girl talk somewhere, shall we?” She started to lead me down the hallway. “If I’d known I was going to be cooped up in this dreary place for days on end, I’d never have come. Of course Max had to be here, as Nicholas’s godfather, but I could have popped to Paris on my own. I do adore it just before Christmas, don’t you? So sparkly.”

I didn’t have a chance to protest. I was borne down the hallway and into a small sitting room where a fire was blazing in a hearth. It was actually quite warm and cozy compared to the rest of the building. Trust my mother to find the one comfortable spot. She draped herself into an armchair and patted the bearskin rug at her feet. “Come and talk to me. Tell me all.”

“There’s not much to tell,” I said. “I’ve been at Rannoch House, but I’m hoping to go somewhere else for the winter because Binky and Fig are going to be in residence. Fig’s expecting again.”

“Good God. And they already have the heir. Binky really must be a saint, or blind or desperate. You don’t suppose she could actually be good at it, do you? Secretly passionate when roused?”

I looked up at her. “Fig?