Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

terrible.”
    “It worked perfectly at the royal castle there, didn’t it?” Belinda gave me her cat-with-the-cream smile. Suddenly she grabbed my arm. “I’ve got a brilliant idea. Come with me, Georgie. We’ll stage that convenient breakdown together. It would be such a lark, wouldn’t it? And someone would be more likely to take us into their bosom if you were with me. Royalty does carry clout, and I gather your cousin the Prince of Wales is wintering on the Med at the moment, so you’d have a perfect excuse to be visiting him.”
    “I can’t,” I said, while my less sensible half whispered that it would indeed be a tremendous lark. “Apart from the fact that I’m hardly dressed for the boat train, it’s a small matter of not being able to afford the ticket for the journey. And certainly not the Negresco until we secure our invitation.”
    “I’d volunteer to share a room with you,” Belinda said, “but it might rather cramp my style.” She leaned closer to me. “Actually, I have a particular chap in mind.”
    “Another one?”
    “Of course.”
    “So who is this new beau? Why haven’t I heard about him?”
    “Not my beau yet; in fact, we only exchanged a few words and some very smoldering looks. He sat next to me at the roulette wheel at the casino before Christmas and when I was about to bet he put his hand over mine and said, ‘Allow me,’ and put a stake on for me. And it won too. He’s absolutely dreamy. What’s more, he’s a French aristocrat of incredibly long pedigree, I gather, and frightfully rich. But we never had a chance to get to know one another properly. He regretted that he had to leave for Paris the next morning, but hoped we’d meet again in more agreeable circumstances. So I’m planning to pick up where we left off.”
    “Good luck,” I said. “Now, if you marry him, you’ll have to behave yourself. The French expect their wives to be terribly chaste and demure.”
    “Not their mistresses, however,” Belinda said, smiling wickedly.
    “Belinda. I worry that you’ll end up like my mother,” I said.
    “I don’t think your mother has had a bad life at all,” Belinda said thoughtfully, staring out across the smoky bleakness of the station. “Rather fun, actually.”
    “But what about when she gets old and loses her beauty and sex appeal?”
    “She can make a fortune writing her memoirs. ‘My life—from actress to duchess to bolter.’ They will make Lady Chatterley look like a Girl’s Own comic.”
    “It wouldn’t be the kind of life I’d want,” I said.
    “Of course not. You’ve too much of Queen Victoria in you. You want the family seat with an adoring husband and a pack of children around you. We’ll just have to find you another Prince Albert.”
    “I met enough of those at the wedding in Romania,” I said. “They were terribly stodgy and boring.”
    “That’s because you were comparing them to Darcy. So where is he now?”
    “I’ve no idea. I saw him once at Christmas, then he went home to Ireland and I’ve heard no more. I can’t blame him. Fig is so rude to him if he dares to show his face at Rannoch House. She still hasn’t forgotten arriving in the middle of the night and finding us alone together, and me in my night attire.”
    Belinda’s face lit up. “Georgie, you sly old thing. So you have finally done it after all.”
    “Not exactly,” I said. “I wanted to but I fell asleep.”
    “You fell asleep? I don’t believe it. I’m sure Darcy’s lovemaking is not at all ho-hum.”
    “No, he was wonderful. I’d drunk too much champagne, I suppose. It always goes to my head. Anyway, Fig and Binky arrived and found us and she’s not allowed Darcy in the house ever since.”
    “How simply maddening, darling. We’ll have to whisk you away somehow. I’ll try to wangle an invitation for you once I’m settled in Nice, and you try to find a way to come up with the train ticket. Perhaps someone we know is motoring down and has room in the motorcar for an extra person.”
    “I hardly know anybody in London,” I said.
    “You know the king and queen, which is more than most of us. Wouldn’t they like to send you on a small royal tour to bring their goodwill to expatriate English people?”
    “You are silly. Besides, you said the Prince of Wales is already there.”
    “I don’t suppose he’s spreading much royal goodwill. Too interested in one particular party.”
    “Oh, Lord, is she with him?”
    “So one