Royal Blood by Rhys Bowen Page A

yourself that you are not going to be ill. Your mistress will not allow it. Now off you go and no dillydallying.” She turned to me. “That girl wants bringing in line rapidly.”
    Then she strode out ahead of me toward the gangplank. It was a pleasant crossing with just enough swell to make one realize one was on a ship. Lady Middlesex and I had lunch in the dining room (she had a hearty appetite and devoured everything within sight) and emerged in time to see the French coast ahead of us. We found Queenie, who was clinging to the railing as if it were her only hope of survival.
    “It don’t half go up and down, don’t it, miss?” she said.
    “Your mistress should be addressed as ‘your ladyship,’ ” Lady Middlesex said in a horrified voice. “I can’t think where she found such an unsuitable maid. Pull yourself together, girl, or you’ll be on the next boat home.”
    Oh, dear. I’m sure that was exactly what Queenie wanted at this moment.
    “Queenie is still learning,” I said quickly. “I’m sure she’ll soon be splendid.”
    Lady Middlesex sniffed. We sailed into Calais Harbor and then we sailed through the hassle of customs and immigration thanks to Lady M and the royal warrants, which allowed us to bypass the long lines and the customs shed. I had to admit she was marvelous—frightening, but worthy of admiration as she chivvied French dockworkers and porters until luggage was loaded and we were safely in our wagons-lits compartments of the Arlberg Orient Express.
    “Run along now,” Lady Middlesex said, waving Chantal away as if she were an annoying fly. “And take Lady Georgiana’s maid with you.”
    I was relieved to find I had my own sleeping berth and didn’t have to share with Lady Middlesex. I was about to come out into the corridor when I heard words I never would have expected to escape from Lady Middlesex’s lips.
    “Ah, there you are at last, dear heart.”
    I simply couldn’t imagine Lady Middlesex calling anyone dear heart, and I knew her husband was already in Baghdad, so I was brimming with curiosity as I slid my door open. Coming up the corridor, clutching a bulky and battered suitcase, was a middle-aged and decidedly frumpy woman. She was wearing what was clearly a home-knitted beret and scarf over a shapeless overcoat and she looked hot and flustered.
    “Oh, I’ve had the most awful time, Lady M. Most awful. There were two terrible men sitting across from me on the ship. I swear they were international criminals—so swarthy looking and they kept muttering to each other. Thank God it was not a night crossing or I’d have been murdered in my bunk.”
    “I hardly think so, dear heart,” Lady Middlesex said. “You haven’t anything worth stealing and they were not likely to be interested in your body.”
    “Oh, Lady M, really!” And the woman blushed.
    “Well, you’re here now and all is well,” Lady Middlesex said. “Ah, Lady Georgiana, let me introduce you. This is my companion, Miss Deer-Harte.”
    “I am honored to meet you, Lady Georgiana.” She bobbed an awkward curtsy, as she was still clutching the large suitcase. “I’m sure we’ll have some jolly chats on the way across Europe. Let us just pray that there are no snowstorms this time and that none of those dreadful Balkan countries decides to make war with its neighbor.”
    “Always such gloom and doom, Deer-Harte,” Lady Middlesex said. “Buck up. Best foot forward and all that. Your cabin is just down there. Why you had to struggle with that suitcase yourself instead of employing a porter is beyond me.”
    “But you know how hopeless I am with foreign money, Lady M. I’m always terrified of giving them a pound when I mean a shilling. And they always look so sinister with those black mustaches, I’m frightened they’ll take off with my bags and I’ll never see them again.”
    “I’ve told you before, nobody would want your bags,” Lady Middlesex said. “Now, for heaven’s sake go and get