Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

Maybe this Sir Toby tries to have his way with you. Maybe he forces you against your will, and you return to seek vengeance for your honor.”
    “You sound like an Italian opera,” I said. “Maybe people behave in that way in France, but not in England or Scotland, I assure you.”
    “Then you please tell me why you crept into Sir Toby’s garden, sneaking forward like a thief and carrying something under your arm.”
    “The answer to that is that it wasn’t I. Your observer saw someone else who may have resembled me. In fact, several people have mentioned that they have spotted someone in Nice who looks like me. I suggest you find her.”
    “Were you wearing white trousers today, milady?” He glanced at a sheet of paper in front of him. “And a dark blue jacket? And a sailor’s hat?”
    “Yes, I was, but—”
    “This is exactly how you were described when seen creeping into Sir Toby’s house at around three o’clock in the afternoon.”
    “Who exactly described me and witnessed this fictitious event?”
    “One of Sir Toby’s gardeners. He had finished his work and gone home for the day, but then he remembered that he had left out the good pruning shears and he saw that it was about to rain. So he returned and was looking for the implement among the shrubs when he heard someone coming. He thought it might be Sir Toby and he did not want to get into trouble for leaving his tools behind, so he ducked down, and was surprised to see a young lady—the same young lady that he had seen that morning, in fact, wearing the same outfit she had worn in the morning—creeping furtively up toward the house as if she didn’t want to be noticed.”
    He got to his feet, coming to stand over me. “It would be easier for us all if you confessed right away. Crimes of passion are understood in France. If this man violated your honor, the judge will understand that you came to confront him. Perhaps he laughed at you. Mocked you. Boasted about his control over you. And on the spur of the moment you were angry and humiliated. You picked up a heavy object and hit him. You did not mean to kill him, but he pitched forward into the pool. The court will understand this and will not pass a heavy sentence on you, I promise. The jurors have daughters. They will understand that your action was justified.”
    “I would be happy to confess if any of this had happened,” I said. “Fortunately it is all untrue. I did not go to Sir Toby’s house and I did not hit him over the head. Now please release me and let me go home until I can meet you tomorrow at a civilized hour with a lawyer present.”
    Lafite smiled and shook his head. “Oh, no, milady. That would not do at all. I am well aware that your relative the Prince of Wales cruises this coast on the yacht of the famous Duke of Westminster. If I let you go, I suspect they would spirit you away on this yacht and you would not be seen again. Lafite does not lose his quarry so easily.”
    “But you can’t keep me here,” I said. “I’m innocent. You only have the most circumstantial evidence that just isn’t true.”
    He leaned down and grinned into my face. His garlic breath nearly overwhelmed me once again. “You forget that in France we follow the Napoleonic Code. Here you are guilty until proven innocent, not the other way around. If you did not commit this murder, you will have to prove it to me and prove it to the judge.”
    “Then I will do so,” I said, staring him in the eye to show that I wasn’t afraid.
    At that moment there came the sound of raised voices from outside the door, among them a man saying loudly in French, “No, Mesdames , you may not enter.”
    “We demand to see Lady Georgiana. What have you done with her?”
    “I assure you she is quite safe, but she is being questioned by Inspector Lafite.”
    “By that fool?” Coco’s voice had become shrill. “Let us in at once.”
    “I cannot let you pass, Madame ,” came the worried voice. “Now please go home before I have you arrested.”
    “Then arrest me.” Coco’s voice was getting closer by the moment. “Arrest Madame Daniels. Arrest Madame Bate Lombardi when she gets here. It will only make you look extremely foolish when you have to apologize to us. I should tell you that at this moment a message is being sent to the yacht of the Duke of Westminster, who is a dear friend of mine and related to Mrs. Bate Lombardi. And you know who is on that yacht? The Prince of Wales, son of the