On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service (Her Royal Spyness #11)(7)

The kettle boiled and she poured the hot water over the coffee grounds, without spilling any or burning herself. I made up my mind.

“Very well, then, Queenie. I’m going to leave you here at the moment. I’ll be back in time to plan my wedding and we can talk then about your future.”

She grinned. “Bob’s yer uncle, miss,” she said.





Chapter 3


TUESDAY, APRIL 9, 1935

On my way back to England. Rather sad to be leaving Ireland.

I caught the night ferry from Dublin to Holyhead. I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. Lord Kilhenny was clearly upset that I was deserting him.

“The rats are abandoning the sinking ship,” he had commented.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to abandon you,” I said, “but I have been summoned by Queen Mary, and one can’t say no to a queen.”

He grunted. “I suppose not.”

“And in this case it’s really important. She wants to talk to me about this line of succession thing. Presumably it won’t be put to Parliament until she’s spoken to me.”

“Utter nonsense,” he snapped. “I’d just ignore the whole thing and marry Darcy if it were me. Or you could become an Irish citizen and thumb your nose at the British monarchy.”

“I can’t really do that,” I said awkwardly. “Anyway I’m just hoping it’s only a matter of formality and we can plan the summer wedding as we had hoped.”

“All right, then,” he said. “You’d better get going if you want to catch tonight’s ferry. I’ll drive you to the station.”

“Will you really? That’s awfully kind of you,” I said. Impulsively I leaned up to kiss his cheek and I saw him give an embarrassed smile. That was when I realized he had grown fond of me and I felt a glow of warmth knowing this.

“And don’t worry. We’ll all be back soon,” I said.

“All?”

“Darcy and Alexandra and me,” I said.

“That’s not very likely. I think the princess has enjoyed playing at owning an Irish racing stable and has now gone on to new interests,” he said. “We’ll probably find that she’s sold it to a sheik or another American—that is, if she ever gets home safely from that stupid round-the-world jaunt of hers.”

“Don’t be such an old sourpuss,” I said. “She’s very fond of you and of course she’ll come back safely. You know Zou Zou. She lives a charmed life.”

“We’ll have to see, won’t we?” he muttered.

“And in the meantime your job is to win the Grand National and let the world see that Kilhenny stables are back on the map.”

He looked at me and smiled then. “You’re a hopeless optimist, do you know that? But I can see why Darcy likes you. I’m going to enjoy having you around the place and bringing it back to life with grandchildren one day.” Then he realized that he had shown emotion and said gruffly, “Go and get your bags, then, and I’ll bring round the motorcar.”

We didn’t say much on the way to the station. I was trying to think of bright and encouraging things to cheer him up, but I couldn’t come up with any. I could understand how easily he could sink into depression again in that big gloomy castle.

“So you’ll come back after your little chat with the queen?” he asked as we pulled up outside Kildare Station.

That was when I remembered I hadn’t mentioned Belinda. “Not right away,” I said cautiously. “I might be going on to Italy for a little while. I have a school friend there who is not very well. She wrote to me and asked me to come and stay with her as she is all alone.”

“An Italian, is she?”

“No, she’s English.”

“Then what in the name of goodness is she doing in Italy if she’s not well? She should come home to England where there are good doctors.”

“She has to stay put at the moment,” I said. “The climate there is better for her.”

“Oh, it’s consumption, is it?”

“Something like that,” I agreed, finding it hard to lie to my future father-in-law.

“Then make sure you don’t catch it!” he said fiercely. He came around to open my door, carried my suitcase to the ticket booth, then gave me an unexpected hug. “Come home safely,” he said.

I caught my train and then had a smooth crossing on the ferry, in contrast to the wild night that had brought me to Ireland. I realized how different that crossing had been. Then I had been in the depths of despair, terrified that Darcy wanted nothing more to do with me and my life was over. Now I had every hope for the future. As Lord Kilhenny had said, if the queen wouldn’t allow me to renounce my claim to the throne then I’d move to Ireland. Simple as that.

I was brimming with confidence when I arrived back in London and the taxicab deposited me outside Rannoch House on Belgrave Square. I hoped my brother and sister-in-law wouldn’t mind my spending a few days with them. It was raining hard as I went up the front steps, lugging my own suitcase, and rapped on the front door. It was opened not by Hamilton, the butler, but instead I found myself looking at the face of my sister-in-law, Hilda, Duchess of Rannoch, usually known as Fig.

“Good God, Georgiana, what are you doing here?” she demanded in that voice that could cut glass. She looked down at my suitcase. “I hope you haven’t come for long because we’re planning to go back to Scotland.”