by Rhys Bowen
Vera nodded. “I know. I feel rotten, knowing I’ve let her down when I promised her so faithfully that I’d take care of her jewels. I still don’t see how anyone can have taken the damned thing. It must have been someone supernatural who vanished into thin air.”
“Or a very clever professional thief,” Coco said.
“I feel I should be doing something, but I have no idea what,” Vera said. “I have no confidence in that inspector. The man appears to be a bumbling fool. Do you not know anyone in the Sûreté in Paris, Coco? Someone we could ask to come down and take over this delicate matter with as little scandal as possible?”
Coco shrugged. “Yes, I have friends at the Sûreté, but they can’t just come and take over,” she said. “It is like your Scotland Yard. They have to be invited by the local police and I do not think this little man would welcome outside interference, do you?”
“Then we must try to recover the necklace ourselves,” Vera said. “Keep your eyes and ears open, Georgiana. Someone must have seen something pertinent when you fell.”
“I’m afraid they were looking more at the spectacle of me sprawled over the poor Russian princess and then the Prince of Wales helping me to my feet. But I will keep my ears open for the young man who disappeared. I know what he sounded like even though I only have the vaguest impression of what he looked like.”
Coco went ahead across the hall and into the casino. Chandeliers sparkled in the glass dome above. The place was already packed and the panic I always feel in crowds rose up in my throat. It was so elegant and so glittering—quite unlike the dreary world I usually lived in. Coco pushed us through the crowd to find my mother and the champagne. As soon as I spotted her, I saw the reason for her early departure. She was standing with the Marquis de Ronchard, looking up at him with an entranced expression on her face. I had seen that expression before. It might have seemed soft and feminine, but it was really the expression of a tigress on the prowl. Few men could resist my mother.
I felt a stab of annoyance. I didn’t really want the marquis to like me, did I? But it was galling to know that Mummy had instant sex appeal that always seemed to work, while I had inherited none of it. At that moment the marquis turned and saw me. His eyes lit up. “Ah, ma chérie. You have come. I hoped you would. You are putting on the brave face. So English.” He came over to me and took my arm. “Have you recovered from your ordeal? Come, let us find the champagne.” He led me up to the bar and snapped his fingers. Champagne was produced and poured.
“I know we have not been formally introduced and as a British noble lady you obviously find this reprehensible,” he said, not taking his eyes off me, “but we have been thrown together in so many different situations that I feel we already know each other. My first name is Jean-Paul, and yours, I gather, is Georgiana. I hope you will treat me as an old chum.”
I looked up at him and laughed. “I don’t see you as the type of man who would be a chum to anyone, especially not to a woman.”
“Ah, very astute of you. Wise as well as charming,” he said. “You and I will get along famously.”
At this point my mother coughed and held out her empty champagne glass to be refilled.
“And do you know this delightful lady?” Jean-Paul asked me, indicating my mother.
Mummy shot me a look that said quite clearly Do not tell him that I’m your mother. I weighed up whether to ignore the look, then decided she might throw me out of her villa. I certainly didn’t want to return to the Villa Gloriosa.
“Yes, I know her well,” I said.
“She is delightful, is she not? So ravishing. So witty.”
“Isn’t she,” I replied, “and so generous too. She’s treating me to a lovely time at her villa and she’s promised to buy me a Chanel dinner gown.”
“But of course. Your figure is made for Chanel. The boyish look. No curves at all. I find it delightfully fresh.” And he looked at me in a way that made me feel quite strange. It was almost as if he were making love to me with his eyes. “When you have decided on the gown, I will take you out to dine and dance in it. It will be a christening ceremony, no?”
“We probably won’t choose a gown for her until we get back to Paris,” Mummy said in a clipped voice. “Chanel does not carry around suitcases of her clothes, you know.”
“She can design a dress for you right here, I am sure, if you ask her nicely,” the marquis said. “I know of a good little seamstress who can run it up for her in an instant. Where is Coco? Ah, over there. I shall go and arrange the whole thing for you.”
And he went. Mummy looked at me half angrily, half admiringly. “I must say, you pulled off that little stunt rather well, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t tell him you were my mother,” I reminded her. “My silence can be bought.”
“You’ve grown up,” she said. “That Darcy O’Mara obviously taught you a thing or two.” Then she laughed. “Still, you are more fun this way. I was worried for a while that you’d turn out to be boring. And I rather believe the gentleman is interested in you.”
“Do you think so?”
“Darling, he was positively undressing you with his eyes. But beware. He’s not an Englishman. He’ll have you into bed before you know what’s happening to you.”
“Is that what you hoped would happen to you?” I asked.
“You are becoming very cheeky,” she said, but she laughed again. Then she sighed. “I must admit that a little fling might add some spice to my dreary little life. I do sometimes long for someone with a little more joie de vivre than Max. He can be so boring out of the bedroom.”
“The fact that you don’t speak German and he doesn’t speak much English hardly makes for witty conversation.”
The casino was becoming more and more crowded. People came up to me to inquire about my health, to offer commiserations on my accident and to speculate about the missing necklace. I began to feel uncomfortable, almost claustrophobic, so I eased myself through the crowd until I was standing among the potted palms by the wall. The room was packed with elegant and rich people, all of whom appeared to know each other and were chatting away merrily. I looked longingly at the entrance and wondered if I could slip away. What was I doing here? I didn’t belong among these people. The problem was that I didn’t know where I wanted to be. Certainly not at home in Scotland, and not trying to fend for myself in London either. It struck me that I hadn’t yet found my niche in life.
At that moment a couple approached me. At first I thought they were a romantic couple, moving into the shadows among the palms to be alone. But then the woman turned to the man and said, “How dare you.” She almost hissed the words. “You’re a swine, Toby.”
And I saw that it was indeed Sir Toby Groper, and Lady Groper with him. Had she discovered the mistress, I wondered. I hastily ducked back into the alcove, shielded by a potted palm tree.
Sir Toby turned back to her and I saw that he was grinning. “Haven’t you heard the old saying, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander?” he said. “If you want a divorce, my dear, and you’re trying to cite my bad behavior, did you not think I’d send out feelers to uncover yours? And yours is so much more delicious. Everyone expects a man to have a showgirl mistress—but a cabinet member? I could bring down the government if I wanted to.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I dare most things,” he said. “I’ve dared all my life, which is why I’m where I am today. So do your worst, Margaret, my dear. I love a good scrap.”
“One day you’ll go too far, Toby,” Lady Groper snapped. And she pushed her way through the crowd to the exit. Sir Toby watched her go with that same amused expression on his face. Then he forced his way up to the bar. “Whiskey,” he barked, “and make it a double.”
I was about to move out of my hiding place when I touched something warm. I gasped and looked around. It appeared I was not alone. A tall, rangy young man with hair flopping boyishly over his forehead was flattened against the
wall behind the potted palm. He put his fingers to his lips as Sir Toby walked away, then heaved a sigh of relief.
“Phew, that was close,” he said. “I didn’t want them to see me. There would have been the most frightful stink.”
I recognized his voice. “You were the one who helped me up when I fell,” I said. “And then you vanished.”
He nodded. “When they announced that a necklace had been stolen and the burly policeman made his entrance. I thought it was about time I did a bunk, rather than answer annoying questions.”
“But how did you get out of the room?”
“Easy enough. Everyone was watching you. As that large gendarme stepped through the door, I slipped out behind him. I’m rather good at doing that sort of thing.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Then you took the necklace.” He grinned. “I’d hardly be likely to confess if I did, would I?”
“Then why did you try to escape, if you didn’t?”
“The answer to that is simple, old bean. Didn’t want the dear old mater and pater to know I’m here.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bobby, by the way. Bobby Groper.”
“Then Sir Toby is your father?”
“Precisely. And that fierce dragon of a woman is the mater, Lady Margaret. I’m supposed to be up at Oxford, you see.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“What everyone else does on the Riviera. Enjoying some fun and sun.” His expression grew somber. “Actually, I got sent down, but the old boy won’t have heard about it yet. So I thought I’d come in person to soften the blow. Do some explaining, y’know. But then the mater showed up and all hell broke loose and I realized that this was not the right time to announce that his son and heir was in disgrace.” He paused, chewing his lip like a little boy. “The old boy’s rather hot on education and all that bosh. I say what’s the point when one is going to inherit rather a lot of money one day, but that’s not how he thinks. He still has the spirit of those dreadful factory-owning ancestors. You know—hard work, elbows to the grindstone, or whatever the saying is.”
“So you failed your exams, did you?”
“Not exactly.” He made a face again. “Little matter of a forged check. It’s all the pater’s fault, you know. He keeps me so dashed short of ready cash that I was a bit strapped, and a fellow was rather twisting my arm to pay up some gambling debts—so, well, I only intended to borrow the money until I could cadge some more out of the old man, but the rotter reported me to the master.” He paused, looking at me thoughtfully. “I say, you don’t like roulette, do you?”
“I’ve never really tried.”
“It’s frightfully fun. I could teach you.” He looked hopeful.
“I’m sure you could, but I have no cash to play with. I’m as broke as you are.”
“I say, that’s damned bad luck. It’s no joke being broke, is it? Especially when the old man is rolling in dough.” He sighed. “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t very well play tonight. Not with my father mooching around the place. I’ll have to lie low until things calm down and Mama goes home in a huff. I expect someone will offer me a sofa to sleep on.” He gave a cheerful smile. “Well, toodle pip. Good to meet you. Georgiana, isn’t it?”
“Most people call me Georgie,” I said.
“Splendid. So if I manage to soften up the old man and he says all is forgiven and invites me to stay at the villa, then maybe you and I can go out for a night on the town, and I’ll teach you to play roulette with his money.”
“We’ll see,” I said, half laughing. There was something rather appealing about him. We moved out of the alcove. Bobby glanced around him before walking purposefully to the door. I watched him go, not quite sure about him. He seemed a typical likeable young Englishman, but the ease with which he had left that salon undetected indicated that he had done that sort of thing before. And also the forged check. . . . Then I realized that he had never tried to say that he didn’t steal the necklace. Somebody took it, and he was the only one who successfully left the room before he could be searched.
Chapter 15
Still at the casino
I wondered if I could ask my mother to have her chauffeur take me home. I started to move back into the crush around the bar, looking for her, or Coco and Vera.
“I say, it’s you. Are you all right?” Another young man stepped out to block my path. He looked familiar somehow and I realized I had seen him at Victoria Station when I was serving soup. “You took a nasty tumble back there,” he said. “No bones broken?”
“Only my pride,” I said. “I felt like a complete fool.”
“Damned Frenchies,” he said. “What’s the betting there was a nail or something sticking out of that stage thing that made you trip. Can’t build anything properly to save their lives, these foreigners. You should see the botched job they did on our villa roof. Least little wind and tiles rain down like confetti. Give me good old English workmanship any day.”
“And yet you come here for the winter,” I pointed out.
“Ah, well. They do know how to cook divinely,” he said. “And the wines . . . and the weather is decidedly better. I’m Neville, by the way.”
“Georgiana.”
We shook hands. I decided how pleasant it was not to have to go through the formalities of home. In England we would have had to wait to be introduced properly by a third party. Here we could be on a first-name basis.
“I thought you looked jolly pretty when I saw you before,” he went on.
“Really?” Was it possible he’d actually noticed me doling out soup? “At Victoria Station, you mean?”
“No, here in Nice the other day,” he said. “Remember you passed me on your bicycle and I called out to you and you smiled?”
“That wasn’t me,” I said.
“Must have been. Looked the spitting image of you. Even the smile was the same.”
“But I don’t own a bicycle.”
“Are you sure? It was on the road from our villa. I was walking my aunt’s dog, remember.”
“No, it really wasn’t me,” I said. “I’ve only been here a couple of days. I walked along the seafront once, but that was it.”
“Well, I’m dashed,” he said. “I could have sworn it was you. I don’t usually forget pretty girls, you know. Well, no matter. We’ve met now. Come and have a drink.”
I allowed him to steer me back toward the bar. Two young men had shown interest in me in the space of a few minutes. Perhaps things were looking up after all. As I looked around while Neville ordered drinks, I saw a face I knew well. Belinda had just come into the room, wearing emerald silk pajamas with a halter top that only just managed to cover the important parts. Her face broke into a smile, she gave a delighted scream and she rushed toward me, arms open.
“Darling, it is you! You came after all. I thought I saw you yesterday and I called out your name but you couldn’t have heard me because you didn’t stop. But now you’re here. How splendid. Where are you staying?”
“At my mother’s villa. It’s lovely—right on the cliffs overlooking the Med. And where are you? I asked at the Negresco but they said you hadn’t been there.”
Belinda made a face. “No, it was a little too pricey for me, given my current situation, so I had to opt for somewhere more humble. I’m at a little pension a couple of streets back from the Promenade.”
“So nobody’s invited you to stay yet? You haven’t tried the famous breaking-down routine?”
She frowned. “I tried it once and the gentleman in question was kind enough to send his man out to fix my car. It only worked in Transylvania because we were miles from the nearest habitation.”
“I’d invite you to stay with me, but Mummy has other guests.”
“It’s all right. I have my eye on a certain man. So far it’s been slow going but I’m quite determined he’s going to notice me.”
I moved closer to her. “Who is he? Do tell.”
“Well, he’s a Frenchman, darling
, and absolutely gorgeous. And a marquis to boot.” She grabbed my arm. “Ooh, there he is now. Look, over there. Coming toward us. Finally he remembers who I am.”
And there was the Marquis de Ronchard, coming toward us with an expectant smile on his face. Of course, I thought. He’s seen Belinda. And I felt a small stab of disappointment.
“Ah, there you are, you little minx,” he said to me. “I have good news to report. Madame Chanel will be more than delighted to design a gown especially for you. What is more, it will be a present to thank you for participating in her fashion show.” He appeared to notice Belinda for the first time. “And who is your charming friend? Please introduce us.”
“My best friend from school days, Belinda Warburton-Stoke,” I said. “Belinda, may I present the Marquis de Ronchard.”
“Enchanté, mademoiselle,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it. “Any friend of Lady Georgiana’s is a friend of mine.”
I then expected that he would whisk Belinda away to a tête-à-tête. Instead he put his arm around me. “What do you say—shall we go and play the tables now?”
“Oh, someone was actually getting me a drink,” I said. “That young man over there.”
Jean-Paul waved this away. “He can give the drink to your delightful friend instead. I intend to keep you for myself. Come, roulette is calling. I have a feeling that you will bring me good luck tonight.” He bowed to Belinda. “Mademoiselle, I hope you will excuse us, but I have been trying to lure this enchanting young lady away all evening and now I seize my chance. The young man who now approaches will be delighted to keep you entertained, I’m sure.”
And he whisked me away past an astonished Belinda. I tried not to grin like a schoolgirl. For once in my life the attractive man had chosen me over Belinda and over my mother. Maybe it was because of the Chanel outfit. Maybe clothes did make the woman after all!
Jean-Paul de Ronchard steered me through the crowd to a large gaming room. As we progressed he nodded and exchanged greetings with almost everyone we passed. I was still in a state of shock that I had beaten out Belinda and my mother. A small warning voice at the back of my brain whispered that this was a dangerous Frenchman, but at the moment I didn’t care. As we arrived at the roulette table a place was vacated and Jean-Paul steered me toward it. The man who was leaving, with a sizeable stack of chips, turned toward us and I saw it was Darcy.