Murder Most Royal — читать онлайн бесплатно полностью

‘It’s as plain as the nose on your face. D’you want a handkerchief, by the way? Yours is glowing like a beacon.’

‘No thank you. I’ll manage.’

‘It’s always the family, one way or another. I pitied those wives of his. Not surprised they didn’t last the distance. The man shagged half the county.’ The duke was thoughtful. ‘Or he owed money. He liked to give the impression of living off the fat of the land, but Abbottswood was hopeless for farming. Too many woods and wetlands. I often wondered how he managed to heat his pink monstrosity of a villa.

‘Yes. I always thought it was rather pretty,’ the Queen admitted.

‘Yes, that was very odd,’ she agreed.

In a dressing room at Clarence House near Buckingham Palace, where he was reviewing some of the evening dress suggestions of his valet, the Prince of Wales greeted a footman bearing a telephone (he did not believe in mobiles) and accepted a call from the Princess Royal.

‘Charles speaking,’ he announced crisply.

‘Of course it’s you.’ Like their father, Princess Anne did not suffer fools gladly. ‘Listen, have you heard about the hand on the beach?’

‘Snettisham. Found yesterday, identified this morning. It was on the news just now. We’ll have to rally round Mummy. It’s the last thing she needs.’

‘Ned St Cyr. Georgina St Cyr’s son. That awful boy who used to chase you around the dining table at Sandringham.’

‘He didn’t chase me,’ Charles protested.

‘He did.

‘Do they know how he died?’

‘I assume losing your left hand doesn’t help,’ Anne answered caustically. ‘According to the news, he’s been missing for several days. Poor Astrid’ll be devastated.’

‘Astrid who? Why?’ Charles asked, still getting to grips with the news. Anne was, not for the first time, three fields ahead and going at a gallop.

‘Astrid Westover. Ned’s fiancée, the one who reported him missing.’

‘He was getting married again?’ Charles hadn’t seen the man for decades, and had only the sketchiest awareness of his circumstances.

‘Yes, Zara knows her. She used to be an eventer. Good seat, terrible hands. I went to Pony Club with her mother, back in the Dark Ages,’ Anne explained. ‘Astrid’s an interesting character. She’s only in her thirties – younger than Ned’s eldest. Zara says she’s an influencer, whatever the hell that is.’

‘I’d like to think . . .