Skeleton-in-Waiting Read Online Free PDF Page B

months.”
    â€œTwo months, and no diary at all!”
    â€œJust polo.”
    â€œBliss!”
    â€œI’ve managed to clear a fortnight in Feb. That’s the lot.”
    â€œBut they won’t let you go there, will they? I …”
    â€œCourse not. Florida.”
    â€œThey play polo there?”
    â€œPretty good. But … Hell, I don’t see why I can’t go to the Argentine if I want. I didn’t start the bloody war. I don’t care a hoot what happens to the bloody Falklands. They don’t belong to us. Never did.”
    Soppy’s voice was beginning to rise. If any of the anemone’s tentacles were floating near by, they’d be beginning to sense the presence of a titbit.
    â€œIt’s just one of those things,” said Louise in a deliberately deadening tone.
    â€œTa ever so, darling. Second help? I’m going to. Talk to Bertie if you want—better not try and tell me what he says.”
    Albert in fact was only a group away, listening to his mother-in-law, Aunt Eloise Kent, who was the obvious next candidate for the title of UMRF, though earning it in a different style from Granny, coldly self-willed, power-hungry and devious. Louise couldn’t imagine herself tolerating, let alone half-liking Aunt Eloise the way she had Granny, nor was this a possible moment to tackle Albert, so she drifted herself in the other direction, theoretically looking for some cousin or guest who seemed left-out, but knowing that the drift would continue till she fetched up alongside Piers. She found him by the fire, of course, scorching his hams while he talked to a stranger. They made a joke pair, the stranger small and shiny and round, bobbing continually on the balls of his feet like a balloon at a souvenir stall, and Piers bending over him with the vulture look he wore when amused or interested. In his funeral black, Piers could easily have been mistaken for an undertaker’s assistant who had been misdirected into the gathering and was making the best of the free meal. (He claimed to prefer beer to wine, but his glass seldom stayed full of either for long; he ate nearly as much as Soppy.)
    â€œHello, darling,” he said. “Have you met Alex Romanov? Prince, is it?”
    â€œFor today Count, I suppose,” said the stranger. “Usually plain Doctor. Your Highness.”
    He got it exactly right, the small bow, the touch of the hand, the accepting tone of voice. His eyes were bright with fun. He gave the instant impression that he expected to enjoy your company.
    â€œA proper doctoring doctor?” said Louise.
    â€œA philosophising doctor. They never told me it was improper.”
    â€œWe’re in the same line,” said Piers. “Only Alex has gone where the loot is. Expert systems.”
    â€œThen I’ll push off and leave you at it,” said Louise.
    â€œOh, please not, ma’am,” said Count Alex. “Lord Chandler and I can get together any time, but I may not have another chance to talk to somebody who knew the Grand Duchess well.”
    â€œI didn’t think you Romanovs agreed she was one.”
    (Granny’s claim to the title had been part of her general campaign of making people realise that for her marrying into the British royal family had been a come-down.)
    â€œIn my eyes she was above technicalities,” said Count Alex.
    â€œYou’re the only two I’ve met who had a good word to say for the old girl,” said Piers.
    â€œI met her just once,” said Count Alex. “When I was seven. I was taken by my mother for inspection. She wore more rings that I have ever seen on one hand and stuffed my mouth with small sweet cakes as though I’d been a dog.”
    â€œTrying to make you sick,” said Louise. “She did that.”
    â€œAt the same time she said cruel little things to my mother. I didn’t understand them, but I could feel the cruelty and was intrigued, and