On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service (Her Royal Spyness #11)(12)

She paused, toyed with a piece of shortbread on her plate, then looked up again. “We know the American woman has been looking into filing papers for divorce in the most discreet manner possible. We have been unable to find out whether she has actually succeeded in obtaining a divorce from Mr. Simpson. My fear is that she has done this and that she and my son plan to marry secretly at this villa.”

“Golly!” I exclaimed. I’m afraid my list of expletives is somewhat limited. I hate still sounding like a schoolgirl, but this sort of thing just pops out in moments of crisis.

The queen then reached across and covered my hand with her own. Another completely uncharacteristic gesture. “As you can imagine, I am extremely worried. If my son presents this marriage as a fait accompli, could it then be dissolved? It would kill his father, I am sure of that. And would we then have a king married to a twice-divorced gold digger?”

“Oh, ma’am, surely not. He may be besotted with her at the moment, but he will do the right thing in the end. When he becomes king he will step up and do what the country expects of him.”

She sighed. “One hopes so. But I am afraid, Georgiana. That’s why I am so relieved to find out you will be nearby. You can be my eyes and ears on the spot. If there is a secret wedding ceremony the servants will know of it. Your friend the countess may even share the news with you.”

My friend the countess probably wanted to see me again as little as I wanted to see her, but I couldn’t say that. Instead I pointed out that I had not been invited and could not force my way into a house party.

“I shall write to the countess immediately,” she said. “I shall remind her that you were school chums and tell her you will be in the vicinity and that you will naturally want to pay your respects to your cousin David, of whom you are so fond. I don’t think she would dare to refuse a request from me, do you?” And she gave a little smile.

She picked up her cup and drained it. “I feel so much better now,” she said.

I drank my own tea in silence. I wasn’t quite sure what she wanted me to do. If they were actually getting married, I could hardly rush in as they were saying, “Do you know any cause or just impediment why these two may not be joined together in holy matrimony?” and shout out, “He’ll be the head of the Church of England and it forbids divorce and furthermore his mother forbids it!”

“What exactly do you want me to do, ma’am?” I asked.

“Just observe. Just let me know the truth. That’s all I ask,” she said. “I will, of course, be happy to pay for the travel expenses for you and your maid.”

Ah. Slight problem here. “I’m afraid my maid will not be traveling with me,” I said.

“Traveling without a maid?” She looked shocked.

“My current maid didn’t want to leave her family in Ireland.”

“A maid not willing to go where her mistress goes? What are servants coming to?” She shook her head, almost dislodging one perfect gray curl. “My maid would follow me to the ends of the earth if I asked her to. Can your family not lend you one?”

I didn’t like to say that Fig would not lend me a hand if I was drowning. “I’m afraid not, ma’am. They have only brought down a minimum number of servants from Scotland.”

“But you simply cannot travel without a maid across the Continent.” She sounded quite upset now. “A young girl alone on a foreign train? There are any manner of rogues and thieves. And who would dress you?”

“I’m sure you have noticed that my wardrobe is quite limited, compared to most ladies of our standing,” I said. “I shall take simple garments like these on the trip.”

“But you will need evening frocks if you are invited to join the house party, which I hope you will be,” she said. “I know. When I write to the countess I shall tell her of the mishap with your maid and hope that she might find you a local girl to assist you while you are in the area. There. That should take care of it.” On the strength of this she poured herself a second cup of tea. “But I still don’t like the idea of your traveling alone, Georgiana. You must take a first-class sleeping berth, naturally. And lock your door at all times. And let the porter in your car know you are alone and need to be watched over.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “But please don’t worry. I have traveled across the Continent before.”

“I shall be happy when you are married and have a husband to take care of you, Georgiana,” she said.

So shall I, I thought.





Chapter 5


THURSDAY, APRIL 11

So it seems I shall be spying for the queen again. Crikey! How do I get myself into these things? The problem is that one just can’t say no—at least I can’t seem to say no.

I was deep in thought as I walked back to Rannoch House. The rain had eased up and I was too frugal to pay for a second cab fare. The queen had seemed genuinely worried about me as I took my leave of her.

“Could you not hire a maid for your trip?” she asked. “I hear there are agencies for such things these days. I do worry about your traveling alone, Georgiana. In my youth a young girl never went out without her chaperon. Do you have nobody in your circle of acquaintance who would want to accompany you?”

“Please don’t concern yourself, ma’am,” I said. “I shall be vigilant and really I should be quite safe in a first-class compartment to Italy.”