Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery) by Rhys Bowen Page B

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asked.
    “It is. Odious little man,” Mummy said.
    “And that’s his wife?”
    My mother chuckled. “Darling, you are so delightfully naïve. His wife is somewhere else. That is Olga, his mistress. She’s a Russian émigré, claims to be royal but nobody believes her. She probably comes from the gutters of St. Petersburg.”
    “Or she isn’t even Russian, and she comes from the gutters of Paris,” Coco added.
    “Why did you call him an odious little man?” I asked.
    “Because he wanted Max to go into a joint venture with him building racing cars. Max said he wouldn’t trust him an inch. All he wanted to do was to look at Max’s designs and then steal them for his own cars.”
    “So you don’t mix with him socially?”
    Mummy sighed. “Darling, this is the Riviera. Sooner or later you wind up at the same party as everyone else. And one always bumps into everyone one knows at the casino. Speaking of which, we have to send someone for your things and we’ll take you with us to the casino tonight.”
    “No, you will not,” Coco said firmly. “She is not to appear in public before she has modeled my creation at my soiree. I want to create a stunning surprise with her.”
    “You might well do that, when she falls off the catwalk and lands in the lap of the nearest dowager duchess,” Mummy said.
    “Do not pay attention to your mother,” Coco said. “I have faith in you. When I have finished training you, nobody will know you are not a professional. Come, we go to work now.”
    “Where should I send Franz to pick up your clothes, darling?” Mummy asked.
    “I’d better go in person,” I said. “It wouldn’t be polite just to have someone grab my clothes and vanish with them.”
    “It didn’t sound to me as if they’d been ultrapolite to you.”
    “No, but as Nanny always said, a mark of true breeding is treating everyone with respect. Besides, I shall enjoy seeing their faces when they find out I’m going to be staying with Coco Chanel.”
    Mummy laughed melodiously. “See? I knew there was something of me in you after all.”

     
    The outfit Chanel expected me to wear was hanging from a rail. It looked very strange to my eyes—the tweed so tweedy, the blouse so lacy and the pants so chic and elegant. I put it on and stared at myself in the mirror.
    “Formidable,” Coco said, nodding as if very pleased with what she saw. “What did I tell you, Vera?”
    “You’re going to wow them, old thing,” Vera agreed.
    “Is there supposed to be a necklace?” I put my hand up to my bare neck.
    “There is. One of the queen’s, which at this moment is residing safely in the bank vault,” Vera said. “I’ll collect it right before the event and have two stout gendarmes to accompany me and keep an eye on it. I promised Her Majesty that I wouldn’t take any chances.”
    “But it will be the crowning touch. You will see,” Coco added. “But we need shoes. They must be very high. Do you have any high-heeled wedges?”
    “I don’t really wear high heels. I’m so tall.”
    “Definitely high heels,” Coco said. “Vera, you must go and buy her a pair this instant. What size?”
    “English size seven,” I said, wincing, because I do have big feet.
    Vera departed. Coco clapped her hands. “Now off with the clothes and we get to work.”
    The shoes arrived—the heels very high. I staggered around like a person on stilts. “No, like this!” Coco commanded. “Again. Glide, not stomp.”
    After a grueling two hours of working with Chanel, practicing my walking and turns, I finally headed back to the Villa Gloriosa in a taxicab. I thought they would be glad to see the back of me, but both Fig and Ducky seemed seriously put out. “Well, that’s gratitude for you,” Fig said, glancing at her sister.
    “But there wasn’t room for me here,” I said. “I couldn’t go on camping out in the library.”
    “But Maude was so looking forward to your sharing her room. She actually moved her dolls,

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