Crowned and Dangerous (A Royal Spyness Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

out looking for food. I knew that other apartments in the palace were occupied by my royal great-aunts; in fact the Prince of Wales referred to them as the “Aunt Heap.” They would undoubtedly be sitting down to good meals tonight. But I also knew that those royal ladies were hot on protocol and one did not visit uninvited.
    “I’m sure Cook will do her best and find something for me when I return,” I said. I was going to ask her to send for my maid to have my suitcase carried up to my room, but in the current circumstances it seemed easier to carry it myself. Heaven knew what Queenie had been up to while I had been away. Two days would have been long enough for a few disasters. I went up the two flights of stairs andopened the door to my room. I didn’t really expect to find Queenie there. But I did expect to find a fire burning in the grate. Instead my trunk was sitting on top of my bed, the curtains were closed and the room was freezing. Hardly a warm welcome home.
    I went over to the wall and tugged on the bellpull, feeling decidedly irritated now. It was the maid who had spoken to me in the front hall who appeared long before Queenie—naturally.
    “My lady?” she asked. Then she went on before I had a chance to say anything. “Oh dear. You’ll want your fire, of course. I’ll send someone up to lay it for you. And your bed needs to be made up again.” She gave me a bright smile. “Don’t worry. It will all be done by the time you come back.”
    I deposited my suitcase on the floor and turned to leave again. There was no point in lingering. It was too depressing for words. To have gone from the high excitement of a royal wedding followed by an elopement to Gretna Green to this cold and lonely room almost brought me to tears. Just as I opened my door I heard the sound of feet approaching. Not the gentle tap of feet but full-blown gallumphing. I think the pictures on the walls shook a little as Queenie appeared at the top of the stairs, panting as she attempted to run. She was a big girl and not what one would describe as light on her feet.
    “What the blooming heck are you doing back here?” she demanded. “That Mr. O’Mara told me you’d be gone and I should go back to your brother’s place to wait for you.”
    “I had to return unexpectedly,” I said.
    She put her hands on her broad hips and sighed. “Now I suppose you’ll want your bags unpacked again?”
    “It is your job, Queenie,” I pointed out. “Where were you when I rang for you?”
    “Down in the kitchen having a late cup of tea,” she said, “and finishing the seedy cake.”
    “It’s a good thing we are leaving,” I commented. “Your uniform is about to burst at the seams.”
    “I needed to eat to keep up me strength,” she said defiantly. “All these ruddy stairs to go up and down. But what are you doing back here? I thought from what Mr. O’Mara said that you’d be in a nice hotel somewhere having a bit of the old how’s yer father.” And she accompanied these last words with a knowing wink.
    “Certainly not,” I replied haughtily, although I think I might have blushed. “Besides, what I do is none of your business, Queenie. I told you many times a good lady’s maid never questions her mistress or her mistress’s behavior.” I looked at her, standing there with her blouse buttons bursting, hair frizzing out from under her cap, traces of past meals streaked liberally down her front and her usual vacant and cowlike expression on her face, and I sighed. “I had hoped you might have learned a thing or two from the other maids here.”
    “I have,” she said, still defiant. “Didn’t you notice I said ‘bloomin’ heck’ instead of ‘bloody hell’? One of the other maids said that swearing wasn’t proper and she’d be fired if she ever said a swearword. So I thought I’d better watch me language a bit.”
    “Quite right,” I said. “You know I’ve been far too lenient with you. I let you take too many