Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

in my nightgown. “Granddad,” I cried and flung myself into his arms. “You came! I’m so happy to see you.”
    “Oh, there you are, my love. You’re safe. You’re all right,” he said, his voice choking as he spoke. He hugged me tightly in a display of affection that was not considered seemly in the circles I normally moved in. There was no way Fig would ever have hugged anybody—even if they’d wanted to hug her, which wasn’t likely.
    Then he released me and stood there, holding my hands with a look of concern on his face. “Ever since I got that telegram I’ve been worried sick. They said you’d been arrested for murder. I didn’t believe it for a minute, but—”
    “I have,” I cut in. “I’ve only been released on bail. The French police inspector is horrid and won’t listen. But now that you’re here—you’ll know what to do.”
    “I don’t know what I can do,” he said, “never having had no experience of foreign courts, but this bloke what came with me, well, he’s the cat’s whisker.”
    I looked up to observe the elegant gentleman standing beside him. “Who is that?” I whispered.
    Before I could answer, there was an exclamation of delight and Madame Chanel came flying out the front door. “Jacques!” she said. “You came. I knew you would.”
    “My angel. As if I could resist you,” the man said and there followed an embrace that only the French can do well.
    When they had broken apart, both a little breathless, Coco turned to us. “He has come. All will now be well. This is my dear friend Commissaire Jacques Germain of the Sûreté in Paris. I pleaded with him to come, as a little favor to me.” She was beaming as if she had just produced a rabbit out of a hat. “I could see that something needed to be done and Jacques is the man to do it.”
    “I thought Inspector Lafite made it quite clear that the Sûreté would not be allowed to step on his toes,” I reminded her.
    “But naturally,” Jacques Germain said in cultured English with only a slight French accent. “I have decided to take a little holiday. And if I happened to take a small interest in a case that was in progress down here—well, that would be quite understandable, no?”
    He smiled, the most charming, sexy smile. I could see that Frenchmen had earned their reputation. “And with my dear friend from Scotland Yard here, we will make a formidable team.”
    “How did you meet?” I asked Granddad. They seemed a most unlikely pair.
    “I met this delightful gentleman on the train,” Jacques Germain said. “He needed assistance in finding the dining car and then in ordering. We dined together, and when I discovered that he had worked for the famous Scotland Yard and he actually knew men I had long admired, we became instant friends.”
    Granddad was beaming. “I didn’t say I’d actually worked for Scotland Yard,” he muttered to me. “At least not like that. Just an ordinary copper. But he’s a good bloke, and, what’s more, he speaks English.”
    “So all is well,” Coco said. She took Jacques’ hand. “Come. Let us go and have breakfast. And you, ma petite ,” she said in an aside, “you should probably put on something a little more suitable before you join us at the breakfast table.”
    “Oh, yes.” I realized for the first time that I was in a flimsy nightdress. I caught Jacques’ amused look. Like any Frenchman he was appraising me, enjoying the sight of my bare legs.
    We walked together into the cool marble entrance hall. Granddad looked around him. “And this place belongs to your mum?”
    “Yes, it does. Her French racing driver gave it to her.”
    “Blimey, she ain’t done badly for herself, I’ll say that for her—not that I approve of her morals, as you know. So where is she?”
    “Sleeping off a hangover, I suspect. We had a rather wild party here last night. You go through to the breakfast room and I’d better change.”
    I went upstairs to find Queenie standing in my room with a tea tray.
    “The one time I remember to take you up your tea, you’re not blooming well there,” she said and plonked it down on the side table.
    For once I wasn’t in a mood to reprimand her.
    “Do you want me to run you a bath?” she asked as if this might be a huge imposition.
    “No time for a bath,” I said. “My grandfather has just arrived. Help me into the new linen suit.”
    A few minutes later, smartly dressed for company, I went downstairs to join them. I found