An Unexpected Peril (Veronica Speedwell #6) -Deanna Raybourn Page 0,80

are disappointed and hurt. What if Alice threatened her in a moment of anger? Gisela would have been frightened out of her wits.”

“You almost sound sorry for her,” Stoker said coldly.

“Pity and empathy are not the same,” I replied. “I can understand her actions if that is what happened. She would have been terrified of the affair coming to light, the scandal it would have caused. So she could have determined that Alice would have to die.”

“Why not simply send her away with a sum of money?” Stoker suggested.

“Alice would never be bought,” I told him. “She had a peculiar sort of integrity. No, she would never have taken a penny of Gisela’s money if the princess tried to purchase her silence.”

Stoker thought a moment. “There are two rather gaping holes in the fabric of your theory. First, Gisela was not in the Alpenwald when Alice died. I seem to remember you saying she was abroad at the time. And second, the only one seen on the mountain that day was a moustachioed man, so even if you are about to suggest that Gisela made a pretense of leaving and came back, she does not fit the description of the possible murderer.”

I gave him a withering stare. “She was disguised, of course.”

“As a man with moustaches,” he finished in a voice dripping with scorn. “It sounds like a penny dreadful, Veronica. I refuse to believe that Her Serene Highness, the Hereditary Princess of the Alpenwald, pasted on false moustaches and climbed a mountain to murder her lover.”

“She would not have to,” I said slowly. “She would not have to be there at all. The princess could have had an accomplice. And who better than the man who intends to marry her? Duke Maximilian of Lokendorf,” I finished in triumph.

Stoker stared at me a long moment. “Bloody bollocks,” he muttered.

My smile was one of purely feline satisfaction. “It is a very good theory,” I told him.

“It is not the worst you might have fashioned,” he said with a grudging nod. “It does at least tick every box.”

“Indeed it does,” I said, smoothing my skirts. “Now we have only to find proof.”

“Proof? How in the name of seven hells do you intend to do that?”

“We must gain access to the Alpenwalder suite,” I told him.

“Absolutely out of the question,” he replied.

I blinked at him. “Whyever not?”

“Whyever not? Let me enumerate the reasons,” he said, holding up each finger in turn. “First, a possibly homicidal princess who has gone missing. Second, her possible accomplice, a potentially murderous aristocrat who is a little too free with his admiration of your person. Third, courtiers who may or may not have knowledge of the princess’s liaison with a murder victim and who could have easily conspired with her to commit the crime. Did it never occur to you, Veronica, that they might all have done it? What if they plotted together, all of those bloody Alpenwalders, to remove Alice from the scene? The chancellor and the baroness would do anything for Gisela, they adore her. And Durand is captain of her guard. I do not know if he would draw the line at murder, but there is every chance he would not. And Yelena’s entire world is bound up in her employer. There is not one member of that retinue that would balk at killing for her or covering it up if she ordered someone killed, of this I have absolutely no doubt.”

As he finished his impassioned speech, a lock of long black hair fell over his brow. His nostrils were flaring like a stag’s, and I realized we had taken positions in opposition to one another, squared off like combatants, our hands curled into fists.

“You are, of course, correct,” I told him. My humble reply caught him off guard and he dropped his arms, unclenching his fists.

“I am?”

“Naturally,” I said in the same soothing tone. “But I am afraid your opposition, while well considered, is not enough to keep us from continuing this investigation.”

“What makes you say that?” he demanded.

“Because George has just come in behind you, and from the envelope in his hand, I believe we have been summoned once more to the Sudbury.”

CHAPTER

18

Stoker sulked all the way to the hotel whilst I tried very hard not to gloat. And failed.

“Smugness does not become you, Veronica,” he told me in icy tones as we alighted at the curb. I said nothing. I merely favored him with my most dazzling smile and swept inside the