Chapters (37)
- Cover
- Berkley Prime Crime Titles by Rhys Bowen
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Historical Note
“Then why did that man wish to talk to me? He is part of your English police, I am sure of this. Do they think I have committed a crime? He would not tell me why he asks me stupid questions.”
“The English police are known to be fair. The innocent have nothing to worry about in this country,” I said. “I’m sure the questions were only routine. The police are naturally concerned for Marina’s safety.” I managed a bright smile.
As I drank my tea I studied her. Did she look worried? Was she more uneasy than usual? With her normal grumpy glare I couldn’t tell. But at least her plan to implicate me had backfired. That must have irked her.
We had an early dinner, then the major arrived to escort us to Crockford’s.
“I had a word with them today, Your Highness,” he said, “and they will be honored to waive their requirement that you must be the guest of a member. They look forward to your visit.”
“How kind.” Marina nodded graciously.
“But if you don’t mind, I will not come with you tonight,” he said. “The manager will be waiting for you and will make sure you are well looked after all evening. And frankly I would rather not be seen at a gambling club right now. I understand that I may be up for promotion to colonel and I don’t want to do anything that could be perceived as unsoldierly.” He gave an apologetic little smile.
He had dressed for dinner, of course. I couldn’t help thinking how smart he looked in civilian white tie and tails, rather than his army dress uniform. A good catch for some girl. But then I remembered that he had lamented trying to live on army pay. So not such a good catch. Probably a younger son who wasn’t going to inherit anything. They were the ones who were always sent into the army.
He ushered us into the motorcar and off we went. I have to confess I felt a thrill of anticipation as the car pulled up outside the white portico of the club on Curzon Street. It was the sort of place I had looked at wistfully from the outside and had only sneaked into once, when I was spying on someone. So I had never actually had the experience of gambling there, as a patron. And now I was being welcomed graciously in the presence of a princess. If I hadn’t been so enveloped in misery, I should have savored this moment.