A Royal Murder: A completely gripping 1920s cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery) by Verity Bright

Author:Verity Bright [Bright, Verity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781800195684
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2022-02-27T16:00:00+00:00

Through the glass partition of the riverside restaurant, where she had observed Sir Roderick previously, Eleanor now watched Lady Montfort flip through a copy of Vogue magazine out on the terrace. A waiter passed with a tray filled with all manner of tantalising pastries, reminding her how hungry she was. Once again, she’d had nothing to eat but a picnic breakfast on the way to meet Sir Percival.

Behind her, she heard Clifford order a coffee and a small fruit salad.

‘I can’t work on an empty stomach,’ she grumbled as he stepped up to her side.

‘Nor convince Lady Montfort that you are genuinely seeking fashion advice whilst attacking a plate of pastries, perhaps?’

‘Oh, stop it.’ She tugged awkwardly on her neck scarf and then the silk frills of her Madame Vermeer mint-green tea dress. The skirt hung in soft folds, which highlighted her slender hips more than she was quite comfortable with.

‘You look perfect, my lady. Good luck.’ Slipping her a copy of Vogue, he melted away.

‘A Parisian knot needs to hang precisely three fingers in front of your left shoulder, dear,’ Lady Montfort called to Eleanor’s back as she passed, apparently engrossed in Vogue’s fashionable must-haves.

‘Sorry?’ She spun round. ‘Lady Montfort! What a surprise.’

‘Oh, don’t play coy, Lady Swift. It doesn’t suit you.’ Eleanor’s quarry looked her over with the fiercely critical eye of a race-horse owner. ‘Unlike the dress I picked out for you at Madame Vermeer’s. That suits you to perfection. Besides, it was inevitable.’

‘What was?’

‘That you would seek me out.’ She ran an elegant hand along each of her perfect collarbones, framed by the ivory ermine trim of her chocolate silk suit, which matched her coiffured curls perfectly.

A waiter appeared bearing a ludicrously small coffee and an equally small bone china boat of artfully displayed fruit. He hovered uncertainly.

‘Yes, Frederick, Lady Swift will join me. We need a fashion conference.’

For the next few minutes Eleanor sipped her coffee and tried hard to pretend she regularly ate fruit not in pastry. At the same time, she dipped back and forth through the magazine, pointing out various outfits she genuinely liked.

‘No, dear. Really,’ Lady Montfort said a moment later, brushing Eleanor’s hand away again. ‘Your tastes are…’ She shook her head.

‘Eclectic?’

‘Misplaced. There’s no other word for it. You’re beyond striking and yet you’re determined to smother all your best attributes in all the wrong fabrics, colours, and’ – she tapped a manicured nail on the photograph Eleanor had turned to – ‘designs. Men don’t have much imagination, dear. Our job is to tantalise them with a sneak preview of our feminine blessings, whilst appearing decorously attired to the rest of the world. That’s why it’s such fun. Oh, and you simply have to look more irresistible than all the competition.’ She tilted her chin. ‘Like I do.’

Eleanor speared a sliver of strawberry, wishing it was a hearty slice of black pudding. ‘For who? Men like Xander. Or Barty?’ Over the rim of her coffee cup, Eleanor watched Lady Montfort’s face carefully.

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