Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

French. “Or perhaps he had only come for an especially valuable item. A jewel, perhaps?” And he looked at me, long and hard.
    “Perhaps,” Coco said. “We already know there is a clever jewel thief in the area. Now let us hope your men will double their efforts to catch him and retrieve our missing necklace.”
    “Of course there are many reasons for murder,” Lafite went on. “A rich powerful man makes enemies, does he not?” He turned back to Johnson. “Who wish harm to your master?”
    It came out more like “’Oo weesh’arm.”
    Johnson looked puzzled. “Wee charm?” he said. “What wee charm?”
    Lafite scowled. “What is zee matter? Do you not spick your muzzer tong?”
    “He wants to know who might have wished your master harm,” Vera said.
    “I hadn’t been with him long,” Johnson said. “And I wasn’t privy to his business dealings.”
    I was about to suggest that Sir Toby had mentioned a threat from a foreigner when I first arrived at his house, but I realized that would place me at the scene of the crime that morning. My feeling was that Sir Toby probably had upset quite a few people recently, including Olga and his wife. It wasn’t up to me to help sort out which of them did the dirty deed.
    Snuffbox or no snuffbox, all I wanted to do was to be away from there.
    “If you will excuse me, Inspector,” I said. “I’m not feeling well. The sight of that body—you don’t need us any longer, do you?”
    “For the moment, no,” he said. “First I make my investigation of the house. But later I may ask you more questions. You English, you stick together. You may well know things that you have not told me. But do not worry. I shall find out the truth. So if you know something, it would be wise to tell me now.”
    “Sorry, but we can’t help,” Vera said. “I’ve told you, we had no social contact with the man. Now we’d better take Lady Georgiana home. She looks quite white.”
    And she bustled me out of the room.

 
    Chapter 22
     
    Still January 26, 1933
Life becoming more complicated by the second.
     
    I tried to push the whole nasty business to one side as I prepared for my date with Jean-Paul that evening. Mummy was reluctant to let me go.
    “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she demanded, sounding for the first time in her life like a mother.
    “I told you, he was a perfect gentleman this afternoon,” I said. “I was only wearing a silk dressing gown and he could easily have tried to seduce me then.” The memory of that kiss flashed into my mind—actually, he was probably in the first stages of trying to seduce me.
    “He may have behaved like a proper gentleman this afternoon, but that doesn’t guarantee that he’ll behave himself once he has you alone in the back of his motorcar,” she said. “He may have been making sure you let your guard down with him.” She actually came over and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve lived a sheltered life, Georgie, and I blame myself for not being a mother to you. Actually, it wasn’t entirely my fault—the Rannoch crowd made it clear that I was to stay away from my child in case I corrupted you with my wild ways. Still, I should have insisted.” A frown passed briefly over that perfect face. “But that’s all water under the bridge, isn’t it? It’s just that—well, I have met plenty of men like Jean-Paul de Ronchard and they only want one thing. He probably sees it as tremendous sport to seduce a virgin—I take it you still are a virgin? Of course you are. One look and one can see. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
    I looked at her almost fondly. It was the closest I remember being to her. “I’m a big girl now, Mummy,” I said. “And I’m not as entirely naïve as you think. If I go with Jean-Paul, it will be because I choose to.” I saw her face then I laughed. “Don’t worry, I probably won’t do anything. That good old Rannoch sense of honor will kick in.”
    She pulled my face down and kissed me on the cheek. “In which case go and have a lovely time. And if you decide to do it with him, I expect the sex will be glorious.”
    It was rather a strange conversation to be having with one’s mother, but if anyone knew about glorious sex, it was she. I went upstairs to get ready, only to find that Queenie had disappeared down to the kitchen to have her supper, having laid out the strangest assortment of garments for me to wear—a frilly white number that one might wear to