A Royal Pain by Rhys Bowen Page B

off and leave her.
    “I don’t think I can go,” I said. “I mean, I couldn’t leave Her Highness.”
    “Bring her along,” Belinda said cheerily. “Give her a taste of the London smart set. I understand that a prince or two might be in attendance.”
    “I really don’t think—,” I began, but Hanni peered over my shoulder and gave a squeak of delight.
    “Young men and dancing,” she exclaimed. “Yes, this I should like.”
    “Good, then it’s all settled then. Wednesday at eight,” Belinda said. “I’ll call for you. Must fly, darling. I’m working on a new design.”
    I escorted her out into the hall.
    “You were running an awful risk,” I hissed at her. “The old dragon almost recognized you.”
    “Nonsense, darling. One never recognizes servants. They are invisible.”
    “You were a scream, pretending to be my maid.”
    “I did a jolly good job too, I can tell you. And sorry about yesterday. I fully intended to come, but the truth was that I didn’t get back to my own bed until five (he was divine, darling), and then I simply slept until five in the afternoon, when it was time to wake up for another party. So being a maid simply fell by the wayside.”
    “That’s all right. The princess has a maid with her who has been press-ganged into looking after both of them. And Binky has sent me a little money to engage a new maid for myself and the agency is supposed to be rounding up suitable girls.”
    “Choose one who isn’t talkative,” Belinda said. “Nothing is worse than waking up in the morning to chatter, chatter when they bring in the tea. And then you never know to whom she will spill the beans about certain people who stayed the night. One does have a reputation of sorts, you know.”
    “That wouldn’t apply to me,” I replied. “My maid might die of boredom.”
    “Things will change, you’ll see. You’ve only been here a couple of months. Once you’re in with our set it will be party after party. And this little do of Gussie Gormsley’s is just the thing. Everyone will be there, I can assure you.”
    “Are you sure I should bring the princess to a wild party?”
    “Oh yes.” Belinda grinned. “What better way to introduce her to life outside the convent? So until then”—she kissed my cheek—“toodlepip.”
    And she was gone, running down the front steps and out into the rain.
    Baroness Rottenmeister insisted on coming with us to Harrods. I was rather reluctant to go there, as Harrods had been the site of one of the humiliations of my life. I had served behind the cosmetics counter for all of three hours before being sacked. But today I would be going as myself, accompanied by a princess and a baroness. I didn’t anticipate any problems.
    Hanni was like a small child in a toy shop the moment she entered the store. She danced from counter to counter uttering little squeaks of joy. “Oh, look. Rings. Necklaces. And lovely handbags. Oh, look, lipsticks.” I had to admit that her vocabulary was quite impressive in this area and I wondered how she would have encountered English words like “cosmetics” at the convent. Maybe there were interludes between gang fights in those American movies. Maybe the gangsters’ molls talked about their cosmetic preparations. We passed from accessories to the dress department.
    “Oh, zat is a beautiful dress. I must try it on.” Hanni was almost embracing it and a shop assistant was bearing down with a gleaming look in her eyes. “I have no sexy dress to wear to party. Just boring German dresses.” She glanced at the tag. “ It is only twenty-five pounds.”
    “That is the belt, madam,” the assistant said, appearing miraculously behind her. “The dress is three hundred guineas.”
    “Three hundred. Is that much?” Hanni asked me innocently.
    “Much,” I said.
    “I try anyway.” She beamed at the assistant, while I tried to think of a way to tell her I had no money without general embarrassment. Perhaps the baroness had