Malice at the Palace by Rhys Bowen

remember that I couldn’t fit all of your things into the wardrobe in the box room, so I shoved some into Miss Belinda’s wardrobe. I suppose I must have forgotten them.”
    â€œYou’ve forgotten my one good evening gown?” I tried not to shriek. “Queenie, I’m about to dine at the palace with the king and queen. All I have here are the burgundy and bottle green velvet and they are decidedly old and unfashionable and there is that place on the skirt where you ironed the velvet once. Queenie, you are hopeless. And it’s too late to send you round to Belinda’s in a taxi now.”
    â€œSorry, miss,” she said. “My old dad only said the other day that I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t attached to my shoulders. That was when I forgot to turn off the gas and nearly blew up the house.” And she gave an apologetic grin.
    â€œWell, I have to make the best of it, I suppose,” I said. “I’ll wear the burgundy I wore last night.”
    â€œOh, that one?” She was looking sheepish again.
    â€œPlease tell me something hasn’t happened to the burgundy velvet dress.”
    â€œNot exactly,” she said. “It’s just that you wouldn’t want to wear it tonight.”
    â€œAnd why is that?” Doom was enveloping me in a shroud.
    â€œWell, you got a little spot on it at dinner last night and I was sponging it off and I turned around and me bum knocked the basin of water off the washstand. And it sort of went all over the skirt. So, I’m afraid it’s a bit wet.”
    â€œQueenie, I should sack you on the spot,” I exclaimed.
    She hung her head. “Yeah, I know, miss. But accidents happen, don’t they? Remember that time you bumped into someone with the tray of wine?”
    I’m afraid she had me there, reminding me of my own clumsiness again. Maybe she wasn’t quite as thick as she pretended.
    â€œGo and find the bottle green dress and if you’ve damaged that one I’ll throttle you personally.”
    The bottle green dress emerged from the wardrobe undamaged, but it had certainly seen better days and there was that patch of skirt where Queenie had ironed the velvet the wrong way. I now owned a silver fox stole, courtesy of my mother, so I planned to drape that over as much of me as possible. I was in low spirits when I went down to await Marina. And they sank even lower when she appeared in a stunning white dress dotted with pearls.
    â€œNobody will pay any attention to you anyway,” I told myself.
    The Daimler arrived and we set off.
    â€œI’m very glad you are coming with me, Georgiana,” Marina said in a whisper. “I am a little nervous about dining with my future family. The queen always seems so haughty and severe. Rather frightening after my own family, who are so easygoing.”
    â€œYes, they can be rather alarming,” I said. “I am invited to the palace quite frequently and every time I tremble at the knees. The king and queen are very hot on protocol. I always have to remember to curtsy and call her ma’am.”
    She took my hand. “Then you and I will support each other.”
    How charming she was, I thought, and I hoped fervently that Prince George could really learn to behave himself and to love her as she deserved. I tried to picture myself if I had agreed to marry Prince Siegfried, moving to a strange country with unfamiliar customs and a groom who would never love me. And I thought how lucky I was that I had found Darcy.
    It was certainly less alarming to arrive at Buckingham Palace in a suitable Daimler motorcar and to drive past the guards, into the palace forecourt, through the arch and up to the main entrance. We were escorted up the stairs and into the Music Room, where the king and queen, together with the Duke and Duchess of York, were awaiting us. There was no sign of the Prince of Wales or the bridegroom. The queen came forward