Back Naughty in Nice
Chapters (40)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Chapter 30
  34. Chapter 31
  35. Chapter 32
  36. Chapter 33
  37. Chapter 34
  38. Chapter 35
  39. Historical Note
  40. Click here for more books by this author

A large woman stood there, dressed head to toe in black. She stared at me.

“Bonjour,” I said, giving her a pleasant smile. “I am Lady Georgiana Rannoch. I am expected.”

“No, you are not,” she said, eyeing me coldly.

“But yes,” I insisted. “I have come to stay. I sent a telegram.”

“I know of no telegram.”

“I am the sister of the duke.”

“I know of no duke,” she replied, and as if to emphasize this she folded her arms across her enormous chest.

Light was beginning to dawn. Obviously the fool of a taxi driver had got the wrong address. “This is the Villa Gloriosa ?” I asked.

It was.

“And it is currently rented by a Monsieur and Madame Farquar?”

“Farquar? Oui,” she said.

“Then I am in the right place. My brother and sister-in-law are staying with Monsieur and Madame Farquar and I am to join them.”

“I was given no instruction that another guest was expected.”

“Then please go and fetch your master or mistress and they will explain to you.”

The arms remained folded. “They are out,” she said.

“When will they return?”

“I don’t know. They took a picnic.”

“What happens here?” I heard the cabdriver asking behind me as he arrived with Queenie and the baggage.

“This person doesn’t want to admit me,” I told him.

“Who gives you authority not to admit the English milady ?” the cabdriver demanded. “This is an English milady.”

“This house is rented to Mr. Farquar. Until he says yes, I do not admit strangers.”

“Well, I’m not going to sit on the doorstep,” I said. My temper was wearing thin and I decided that I had been polite long enough. “Do you think I would come all this way, with my maid and my bags, if I was not invited to stay here? This is no way to behave to an English milady.” I turned to the taxi driver. “Bring the bags inside.”

The woman in black looked as if she was considering whether to stand in his way or not. He was a burly man and in the end she sniffed and stood aside. “There is nowhere for her to sleep. She can wait in the salon, until Monsieur and Madame Farquar return,” she said, moving ahead to block the staircase as if I might decide to sprint up it any second.