Malice at the Palace by Rhys Bowen Page B

“Me too. Isn’t he awful? And do you know what I found out? He likes other men. Can you imagine how horrid that would be?”
    Should I tell her? I wondered, then decided against it. After all, her future bridegroom George was also reputed to have had affairs with unsuitable women. He was an equal opportunity offender. And maybe he’d shape up and become a model husband. He certainly seemed fond of Marina, the way he looked at her.
    It was not raining for once as the car drew up outside Kensington Palace, but a large puddle had formed outside the entrance to our apartment. “I’ll stop a little farther down, Your Royal Highness,” the chauffeur said, “so that you don’t get your feet wet. There’s a raised pavement beside the house where you can walk back.”
    â€œHow kind. Thank you,” Marina replied.
    We were helped out of the backseat. Marina went ahead of me. I was about to follow when I glanced back and thought I saw that strange greenish glow coming from the archway below the clock tower. I had to see for myself where the light was coming from and began to walk toward it. Then I stared harder. Surely something was lying there. Something white. My heart was beating faster and I wanted to turn and hurry into the safety of our apartment but I couldn’t help myself. I was drawn toward it. If it was the ghost of Princess Sophia I had to see it for myself. But why would a ghost be lying anywhere? Surely ghosts wafted about as they wished and didn’t linger too long. As I approached the thing lying on the cobbles, I could make out the form of a dark-haired young woman in a white silk dress, lying slumped over, facedown. I kept moving closer, walking more slowly now. Surely the specter would vanish when I came too close, wouldn’t it?
    But it didn’t. I stood there, taking in every detail—the rather flashy rings on the hand that lay outstretched a few inches from my foot, the very modern short haircut with its permanent waves, and then, as I moved around to get a better view I saw her eyes, open and staring at me blankly from a deathly white face, contrasting with the bright red lips.
    Whoever she was she was no ghost. She had been recently alive and now she was very dead.

Chapter 10
    LATE AT NIGHT, NOVEMBER 4
    KENSINGTON PALACE
    I stood there in the darkness with my heart hammering, not knowing what to do. I had seen dead bodies before but one never gets over the shock. I put my hand to my mouth, feeling queasy. Marina had gone ahead of me into the house. I had no idea how long the girl had been lying there, if she had been murdered, or even if the murderer still lurked nearby.
    â€œYour ladyship?” a voice called and the chauffeur was coming toward me. “I don’t believe you can get into the apartment that way. May I escort you to the front door?”
    â€œThank you so much.” I came hurriedly to meet him so that he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the dead girl. He delivered me safely to the front door and I heard the motorcar drive away as the door was closed behind me by a maid.
    The police should be called immediately, I thought, and I was about to tell the maid to take me to a telephone. But I realized that Princess Marina should not be made upset. Then I remembered Major Beauchamp-Chough. There were rules of protocol to be followed in a royal palace and he was currently master of the house. So if anyone summoned the police it should be he.
    â€œDo you know where one would find Major Beauchamp-Chough?” I asked the maid.
    â€œI expect he would be in his own apartment at this time of night, my lady,” she said, looking at me strangely.
    â€œIt was apartment 10, I believe. Do you know which one that is?”
    â€œI’m not sure. I’d have to go and ask,” she said.
    â€œIt’s important that I see him right away,” I said. “A situation has arisen that demands his immediate attention. Where