The Stuart Sapphire by Alanna Knight Read Free Book Online Page A

vaguely sinister in all this and Tam did not care for it at all. He scented danger.
    Sensing hesitation, the prince said: ‘You will of coursebe paid. Handsomely, sir, one hundred guineas to assist you on your journey.’
    Tam did some rapid calculations. Half of the bet the prince had won from Brummell for producing him as the sole survivor of the shipwreck of the
Royal Stuart
.
    ‘Very well, Your Royal Highness.’
    Grunting an acknowledgement, the prince turning quickly cannoned into the small table. Tam helped him steady it and looked down on the huddle of coloured stones from which all the magic of rare and exquisite gems had been also removed. Historic and ancient, Tam did not doubt, and worth a king’s ransom. Now they looked worthless and tawdry beside an extinguished human life.
    The prince, his hand shaking, pointed to the pearls around the Marchioness’s throat. ‘They – they are her own.’
    ‘May I know the lady’s identity, Your Royal Highness?’ Tam asked delicately.
    The prince gave him a suspicious glance as if this was an intrusion of the royal privacy. ‘Sarah, Marchioness of Creeve, of Creeve House, Lewes.’ An embarrassed throat clearing. ‘A recent acquaintance.’ With a sharp look to see how Tam was taking this audacious statement with all its implications, he went on hurriedly:
    ‘Do you wish to inspect the room, see how the murderer gained access?’
    ‘Indeed, yes, and I should like to make some notes.’
    Handsome notepaper and pens were produced as Tam walked round looking for means of entrance rather than exit.
    ‘Would Your Royal Highness care to give me an exact account of the events of last night, so that we can properly reconstruct the scene?’
    The prince closed his eyes, cleared his throat and leaned back as if such remembrance threatened to be painful. ‘We left the marchioness at eight o’clock. We know the time exactly since that was when your sinking ship was spotted on the horizon.’
    ‘The marchioness did not wish to accompany Your Royal Highness.’
    ‘Not in the least.’ An embarrassment she had spared him, he thought bitterly, and stayed here in the warm luxury of his bed instead to get herself killed.
    ‘And when Your Royal Highness returned again?’
    ‘We did not. Instead we stayed with our wife—’ a lowering of brows, rather threatening this time – ‘Mrs Fitzherbert at Steine House. We left her at five o’clock when our carriage called as usual to take us for our morning bathe.’
    ‘Your Royal Highness and Mrs Fitzherbert?’
    ‘No.’
    And Tam realised there was to be some further confusion added to the case by the use of the royal “we” as the prince continued: ‘We then returned to the Pavilion where you, the sole survivor of the shipwreck, were brought to us. After breaking our fast together, we came upstairs immediately – and found this—’ he said with a disgusted shudder.
    Tam thought. So the murder could have taken place any time during the last twelve hours.
    ‘These are our usual morning arrangements before beginning our toilette for the day. We were taken aback to find the marchioness here since, er, any invited guest usually takes her leave of us around seven o’clock. We were horrified – yes, horrified to find her still here – and—’
    The prince paused, gulped, cast his eyes heavenward,whispered: ‘And – dead! There is a bell pull,’ he pointed towards the bedhead. ‘It connects with the stables and should have summoned a carriage to return her ladyship to her home in Lewes.’ He did not feel it necessary to mention her convenient apartment nearby, or that she was only returning to Creeve for the Masque that evening.
    ‘What about her maid, surely she does not travel alone?’
    ‘In this instance, yes,’ was the stiff reply.
    ‘This is the usual procedure?’ asked Tam.
    How could the prince explain that the delicacy of the situation concerning his brother, York, required the utmost secrecy and