Authors: Rhys Bowen
Naughty In Nice (26 page)
“Darling, fancy bumping into you here of all places. I didn’t see you. Are you with your mama?”
“No, I’m up in a little turret room with Jean-Paul.”
“Jean-Paul?” Her eyes widened. “You mean the Marquis de Ronchard?”
“The very same. I can hardly believe it, but he seems interested in me. I hope you’re not too cross with me. I did nothing to encourage him.”
“Of course you didn’t, you sweet thing.” Belinda touched my cheek. “That’s why he finds you so delicious. A completely unspoiled, unscheming female. What a change. No wonder he is captivated.”
“I know you wanted him for yourself.”
“I have to confess that was the idea, but as it happens I have moved on to pastures new, thanks to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes. Remember the young man who went to buy you a drink last night and returned only to find you had been whisked away by your marquis?”
“I do. His name was Neville.”
“That’s the one. Well, I was left to cheer him up after he’d been so cruelly abandoned by you, and we hit it off rather well. To the extent that I’ve been invited to stay at his aunt’s villa. His aunt is Lady Marchington and it just happens that she used to hunt with my papa, so I’m considered suitable and all that.”
“I gather Neville isn’t particularly well off, from what I heard at Victoria Station.”
“Not at the moment, darling, but he will inherit a title one day, and a very nice estate. Not that I plan to be around that long, but Lady Marchington’s villa is certainly a step up from the little pension near the railway station where I was staying. And Neville actually shows promise as a lover—for an Englishman, that is. So all in all, I’m satisfied for the moment.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “I was trying to persuade Mummy to have you to stay with us, but it seems that she has to keep a bedroom free in case one of her pals decides to come and stay.”
“So all’s well that ends well,” Belinda said. “I just hope you know what you’re doing with your marquis. He has quite a reputation, you know.”
“So I’ve heard. But he is rather gorgeous, isn’t he? And I’m rather enjoying being wined and dined. It’s a new experience for me.”
“Poor Darcy,” Belinda said. “Dropped like a hot potato.”
“Poor Darcy has someone else,” I said.
“No, surely not.”
“I’ve seen them together,” I said bleakly. “They have a child.”
“Good heavens. Well, that is a bit of a shock, isn’t it? I really thought that you and he . . .”
“So did I,” I said, and I blinked back tears. “I’d better go back or Jean-Paul will wonder where I am.”
We hugged, and as I crossed the restaurant to return to Jean-Paul, the first thing I noticed was several men standing around our table. To my horror I recognized one of them as Inspector Lafite.
“Ah, there she is now,” one of the men said.
“Inspector.” I eyed him coldly. “What are you doing here?”
“I have come for you, Lady Georgiana,” he said.
“If you wish to ask me more questions, you can see that this is not a good time or place. I have nothing more to tell you, either about the missing necklace or about the death of Sir Toby.”
“I do not wish to ask you questions at this moment,” he said. “We will do that at the police station.”
“The police station? I’m not going to any police station at this time of night.”
He took a menacing step toward me. “I insist that you accompany me, mademoiselle. I am arresting you for the murder of Sir Toby Groper.”
Chapter 23
The night of January 26, 1933
In a French police station. Horrid experience.
In a French police station. Horrid experience.
I stared at him. My mouth was probably open, which I know is not acceptable for a lady. But you must admit it’s not every day that one is accused of murder.
“If you will please step outside, mademoiselle,” Lafite said quietly. “I’m sure you do not want to cause a disturbance or a scandal in such a place as this.”
Shock does funny things. I looked at his comical face with its exaggerated mustache and I started to laugh as he took my arm.
Jean-Paul, however, had leaped to his feet. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “This young lady is the daughter of an English duke. She is related to royalty.”
“Her background is of no consequence,” Lafite said.
“Please come with me quietly, mademoiselle, and let us have no unpleasantness. I am sure you would not wish to cause embarrassment to Monsieur le Marquis.”
One of his men took my other arm. I was conscious of faces staring at me as I was led through the restaurant and out to the street, where several police motorcars were drawn up.
“Now, mademoiselle. Get in, please.” Lafite opened a rear door of one of the cars for me. I was moving mechanically, like a puppet, but Jean-Paul stepped between me and the police-vehicle door.
“This is absurd,” Jean-Paul said, his eyes blazing. “You know who I am, and I can vouch for her.”
“Forgive me, Marquis. Of course we know who you are. However, we have reason to believe that this young lady is guilty of this terrible crime.”
“What reason?” I demanded.
“I am not at liberty to discuss this here. We will wait until we are in the privacy of the police station. Now, please enter the automobile.”
“I’m coming too, if you are taking her,” Jean-Paul said. He tried to force his way into the motorcar.
“I am afraid that is not possible, Marquis. You must realize this is a very serious matter. You cannot be allowed to interfere with the course of justice.”
“Then I will go immediately to telephone a lawyer friend of mine.” Jean-Paul scowled at him, then touched my arm gently. “You are not obliged to say anything until you have a lawyer present. Do not worry,
ma petite
. It is all a horrible mistake and we will have you back home in no time at all.”
ma petite
. It is all a horrible mistake and we will have you back home in no time at all.”
For the first time I realized the enormity of what was happening to me. “Please go and tell my mother where I am. Madame Chanel and Vera will know what to do.”
“They will be hammering at the police-station door like ravening wolves,” Jean-Paul said with a smile. His hand touched my cheek. “Courage,
chérie
. All will be well.”
chérie
. All will be well.”
With that, Lafite bundled me into the backseat of the car and we took off, driving along the winding coastal road until the lights of the city appeared below us. I sat with my lips pressed together, trying to look composed and haughty, but under my thin dress I could feel my legs trembling. I was in a foreign country. I knew little of their justice system and I was in the hands of a bumbling policeman. I prayed that Jean-Paul’s lawyer and Mummy would arrive as soon as possible.
The police station appeared horribly bright after the darkness of the car. I was led through tiled hallways to a bare room that contained a table and two uncomfortable-looking chairs.
“Please take a seat, mademoiselle,” Lafite said.
“I am not ‘mademoiselle,’” I said, trying to sound like my great-grandmother. “I am a noble lady, a cousin to the King of England, and there will be serious repercussions about this folly when His Majesty learns of it.” At least I think that’s what I said. My French might have become a little wobbly at such a moment of stress.
Lafite did not appear to be worried by this threat. “Believe me, I realize the seriousness of this charge and would not have acted had I not been completely sure of my facts. We have proof, you see.”
“What proof?” I demanded. I was so angry and frightened that I forgot Jean-Paul’s warning not to say anything until I had a lawyer present.
Lafite looked smug again. He put his hand up and stroked at his mustache. “You were seen entering the house of Sir Toby this afternoon.”
Oh, crikey. Someone must have seen me making my way down the cliff to his garden. I couldn’t think how, unless it was from a passing boat. Our terrace and Sir Toby’s swimming pool were not visible to the outside world.
“Well, that’s easy enough to explain,” I said, trying to sound calm and in control of this situation. “I came home, walked on the terrace, looked down and spotted Sir Toby floating in his swimming pool. I called for help, but nobody came from his house, so I made my way down the cliff to see if I could help him. When I was close enough, I could see that he was dead, so I climbed back up and we summoned the police.”
He shook his head. “No, mademoiselle. You were seen entering his house by the front entrance.”
I sighed again. “Yes, of course. I did go to visit Sir Toby earlier in the day. But that was in the morning, when I can assure you Sir Toby was alive and well, and his manservant was also there to let me in.”
Lafite’s eyes narrowed. “You did not mention this to me when I questioned you earlier. In fact, you gave me to understand that you did not know Sir Toby. And yes, his manservant tells us that not only did you visit him at his house, but you went out sailing on his yacht—just the two of you. This does not indicate to me persons that do not know each other.”
“I thought it had no relevance to his murder, since there would be plenty of witnesses to confirm that he was alive when I left his boat. And I only met Sir Toby last night. I admired his yacht and he was kind enough to invite me out for a short sail. That was the only time I had any contact with him. I had never been to his house before or after.”
“But again you attempt to deceive Lafite.” He wagged his finger at me. “You are not telling the truth, I think. You were seen by a reliable witness entering the house of Sir Toby at around three o’clock this afternoon—which happens to be the time that the doctor has estimated for Sir Toby’s murder. What is more, this reliable witness describes your behavior as furtive. He says you crept through the shrubbery as if you did not wish to be seen. And you were carrying something. What have you got to say to that?”
“I say it is nonsense,” I replied. “At three o’clock this afternoon I was at the villa of the Marquis de Ronchard. He and his servants can vouch for me.”
“And you left his villa at what time?”
I frowned. “I’m not quite sure of the time . . .”
“You are not quite sure of the time,” he mimicked.
“It was immediately after it started raining,” I said. “I was certainly home by four.”
“Giving you enough time to pay a visit to the villa of Sir Toby,” he said triumphantly.
“It was pouring with rain,” I said.
“Murders can be committed in the rain, I believe. But my witness does not mention rain. I suspect it was a short, sharp shower and it had stopped by the time you paid your visit.”
“This is absurd,” I said. “Pray, what would my motive have been, given that I had never met Sir Toby until last night?”
“Who can say? You come to the Riviera and immediately a valuable necklace is stolen from your neck. And the next day you are alone with a man who is murdered. We in the police of France are taught not to believe in coincidences. What do these two events have in common? we ask ourselves, and the answer to both the robbery and the murder is you, mademoiselle.”
He wasn’t going to get the manner of address right, or else he was being deliberately rude to me. I sighed. “I am a member of the ruling family of England and as such I hardly like to steal the queen’s necklace or to kill a man I had never met before.”
“We have done a little prying into your affairs, Lady Georgiana.” He was looking even more smug by now. “And we find that, yes, you are related to the king, but that your brother and yourself are in dire financial straits. You have no money, Lady Georgiana. You have no prospect of any money. Maybe you took the necklace, then set up a plan to rob Sir Toby?”
“Utter rubbish!” I said. “Ask anyone who knows me. They will vouch for my character. I have had plenty of chances to marry for money or to live with a richer family member. I choose to make my own way, living in poverty. I have pride and I have integrity.”
“Very well. I take your word on this for the moment. So let us then say that it was a crime of passion.”
Other books
Make Me Remember by Beth Kery
Mr White Proposes (BWWM Interracial Romance) by Fielding, J A
Lamb by Bernard Maclaverty
The Bachelor and the Beauty Queen by Carolyn Hector
Courted (How Not To Be Seduced By Billionaires: Book 2) by Marian Tee
Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #1 by Valerie Hansen, Sandra Orchard, Carol J. Post
Seeing Further by Bill Bryson
Tempting BAD: VIP Spin Off by M. Robinson
The Prince of Darkness by Jean Plaidy