Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

them to leap up and embrace each other. Henri went away and returned almost instantly with a plate with different types of caviar sitting in tiny dishes on a bed of ice.
    “Ah,” Jean-Paul said, giving a delighted smile like a child who has been given a present. He scooped some pink caviar onto a piece of melba toast, then repeated the gesture from lunch, reaching across the table to pop it into my mouth. I remembered what he had said about seducing a woman gradually, so in the end it is she who is begging to be made love to. Having dug into the caviar, Jean-Paul appeared relaxed and enjoying himself and started asking me questions about my family and home. I described Castle Rannoch and he shuddered. “Me, I do not think it sounds very comfortable,” he said.
    “It isn’t. It’s quite spartan and cold.”
    “Then I do not think you would find it disagreeable to spend your winters on the Riviera in future?”
    “I think it might be very nice,” I said, wondering where this was leading. I remembered Vera saying that he’d have to settle down and produce the heir eventually. Had he decided I would make a suitable marquise?
    “Your dear papa—he did not visit his family home very often, I think. He too enjoyed the delights of the Riviera.”
    “He might have enjoyed them, but they didn’t do him any good,” I said. “He got through all the family money. He must have been a rotten gambler.”
    “Drinking and gambling together are not wise,” Jean-Paul said. “Your papa—he liked the champagne too much. And the ladies too.”
    It was almost a slap in the face to hear that he’d liked the ladies. But then I suppose he was free to do what he liked after my mother had left him. When I was growing up, I’d always pictured him as a lonely man, wandering alone on foreign beaches, and I’d felt sorry for him. Now I thought of Binky, struggling to keep Castle Rannoch going after Father had spent the family money on gambling and the ladies, and I was suddenly angry.
    “I hardly knew my father,” I said. “So I really can’t judge him.”
    “Very wise,” Jean-Paul said. “I knew him a little and I think you can say that he was a kind man, but not a wise one.” He leaned closer to me. “Rather like your cousin the Prince of Wales. He has shown concern for the poor people of your country, he wants to do some good, but he has not demonstrated wisdom in his affairs. I wonder if he will make a good king.”
    “I really don’t know,” I said. “I take it you’re referring to Mrs. Simpson. She certainly seems to have a hold over him, almost as if he’s bewitched. One hopes that when his father dies, he’ll shape up and do the right thing. We were certainly all brought up to put duty before anything else.”
    “Maybe he will,” Jean-Paul said, “but let us not speak of him or of duty. I thumb my nose at duty. It is boring. Talk to me about amusing things.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t lead a frightfully amusing life,” I said.
    “But you must know some delicious scandals. You are sharing a house with three notorious women, no? What of their love lives? Who goes to bed with whom?”
    I felt myself blushing under his frank gaze. “I know little about such things. Since I’ve been staying there, there have been no gentlemen in evidence.”
    “What of the terrible Sir Toby? He lives next door, doesn’t he? Does he never come to call? And the delectably exotic Olga? One hears such delicious gossip about their tempestuous life together.”
    I felt a great sob like a hiccup coming up in my throat. “What is it, ma petite ? He really upset you this afternoon with his boorish behavior?”
    “No, it’s more than that,” I said. “He’s dead. After you brought me home, I looked over the terrace and there he was, facedown in his swimming pool.”
    “He drowned?”
    “Worse than that,” I said. “It looks as if someone killed him. I shouldn’t say any more, but it will probably be in the papers tomorrow.”
    “How extraordinary,” Jean-Paul said. “Frankly I’m not surprised that somebody killed him. Such a man makes many enemies. And one wouldn’t be surprised if Olga flashed a knife at him in the heat of passion one day.”
    “Olga walked out, I believe.”
    “And returned for vengeance? How fascinating. I will follow the case with interest. Quite the thing to lift me from my boredom.”
    “You? How can you be bored? You have a wonderful life.” Jean-Paul sighed. “I always crave