Murder Under a British Moon by Abigail Keam

Author:Abigail Keam
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery
Publisher: Worker Bee Press
Published: 2022-06-18T00:00:00+00:00

14

There was a crescendo of excited chatter as people stopped dancing and rushed into the grand foyer.

“What is everyone looking at?” Mona asked.

Robert let out a soft moan. “You didn’t, Thelma?”

“I did. He hasn’t seen you for years. Now Robert, don’t be rude. I went to a great deal of trouble getting him here. He’s supposed to be at a polo match.”

“Whom are we discussing?” Mona asked, stretching her neck to see beyond the crowd.

“Oh, he must have arrived!” exclaimed Thelma, patting her face with her lace handkerchief.

Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David Windsor, Prince of Wales, commonly known as David entered the room with his entourage. The band played the Prince of Wales’ favorite tune as he scattered the bowing and curtsying throng and strode over to where Mona and Robert stood.

Thelma curtsied.

Robert bowed, saying, “Your Royal Highness.”

David clapped Robert on the back. “Too formal, cousin. Introduce me to this fascinating creature whom you are engaged to.”

“May I introduce my fiancée, Madeline Mona Moon? This is His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.”

The Prince turned to address Mona. “Egads, it’s true what they say about you, Miss Moon. You are a vision of loveliness.” He peered closely at her eyes. “I was told your eyes were yellow, but they are something to see.”

As Mona was an American, she did not curtsy, but replied, “Thank you, Your Royal Highness. It’s most kind of you to say so.”

“It’s not kind of me at all. It’s the truth. Look around Miss Moon. Nothing but dull-looking brown chipping sparrows—every one of them, but you shine like the moon—like the stars in the sky.”

“That’s not nice, David,” Thelma said, irritated that the Prince of Wales was insulting her guests.

“Was I being a boor?”

“Very much so. You’ve hurt my feelings.”

“So sorry, old girl, but I don’t feel like being nice tonight. I’ve had a horrible day and want something to go my way. Ah, that’s lovely music your musicians are playing. Makes my feet want to have a patter of their own. They need to move—celebrate this auspicious occasion of Robert’s engagement. I’m going to steal the intended bride away for a dance.”

Mona realized that being seen dancing with the future king would guarantee an invitation from every aristocratic family in the United Kingdom—and invite gossip as well. The Prince of Wales was a known connoisseur of women. She decided to take the risk. “I’d be delighted. Shall we now?”

David looked astonished at Robert. “She didn’t even ask your permission, Robert.”

Robert replied, “American women have a strong streak of independence, David, as you know.”

David glanced knowingly at Thelma. “I know. I’m a whipping boy where beautiful dominant women are concerned.”

Mona felt nauseated. Here was one of the most celebrated bachelors in all of Christendom. The Prince was handsome, educated, and a rascal—a charming rascal at that—and his people adored him for it. They winked at his romantic escapades and his pleasure seeking activities as they disliked his father’s sour disposition and obsession with duty. After the Great War, people wanted to have fun.

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