A Rather Dastardly Death by Anthony Slayton

Author:Anthony Slayton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anthony Slayton

PART III

THE AFTERMATH

20

THE MEMORIAL

Trailing a few steps behind Lord Unsworth and the others as they ascended the stairs to Lady Rosaline’s villa—Raymond’s villa now—Mr. Quayle took a moment to collect his thoughts. It had been a long night—the latest in what felt like an endless series of long, long nights. The police had questioned him and Arthur sharply but briefly, much to Lord Unsworth and Lady Constance’s relief. Ironically, as insulting and degrading as it was for the family to have been spied upon by the French constabulary, it had provided them all with one entirely unanticipated benefit—an unimpeachable alibi for Count Scarlioni’s murder.

It was now mid-afternoon on the following day, and Raymond and Vivi were waiting in the entrance hall, again playing host to seemingly all of Treville-sur-Mer and beyond. This time, however, with no Lady Rosaline to hold court, the house felt barren and empty. It was hard to remember that this same room had echoed with music and laughter just over forty-eight hours ago. But then two days could be a lifetime, as Mr. Quayle knew better than most, and judging by the dark circles he could see under Raymond’s eyes, their host had learnt the same hard lesson.

Lady Rosaline’s funeral had been held that morning—a deliberately and pointedly family affair with only Raymond and Vivi in attendance. Naturally, this had caused no small amount of bitterness amongst Lady Rosaline’s horde of self-professed nearest and dearest—Jean-Paul Léger chief among them—and this afternoon’s hastily arranged memorial had only slightly mollified their bruised egos.

For his part, Raymond was making no effort to welcome them as he greeted his mother’s friends, acquaintances, and various hangers-on with a tortured, surly expression. Not that Quayle could blame him. He suspected that Raymond had only held the memorial in the first place to counter Léger’s blatant attempt to seize control of Lady Rosaline’s legacy. The in-fighting had already begun, it seemed, although half the guests hadn’t even been invited.

Unexpectedly, however, His Lordship had been invited, which was strange given that Raymond had made his feelings for Lord Unsworth quite clear the other night. Rude and insolent was how Lady Constance had described him. Unconscionably rude.

But when it was Lord Unsworth’s turn to offer his condolences, Raymond stepped forward instead, and the whole room seemed to hold its breath. Mr. Quayle was well aware of the rumors that were circulating—vicious half-truths and innuendos—and he could feel the crowd sharpening its knives. If they were hoping for blood, however, they were soon to be disappointed.

“Thank you for coming, Lord Unsworth,” Raymond said almost sheepishly. “It would have meant a great deal to my mother.”

“I’m not so sure,” His Lordship replied. “Despite what people seem to think, your mother and I hadn’t spoken for many years.”

“Yes, I know,” Raymond replied. “She told me as much, but you’re the only person here, I think, who knew her before she was famous, when she was still Rose instead of Rosaline. Actually, now that Father and Weatherford are gone, you might be the only one left in the world.

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