The Blood Royal

‘And those other poor dupes – the Irish lads?’ There was pity as well as a question in Lily’s voice. ‘Young Patrick told me he’d been used. He didn’t know the half of it!’

He was being offered a bargain he was glad to accept. Joe replied at once: ‘They also should be left in ignorance. They think they are dying a patriot’s death. We can let them go to the gallows with that last comfort at least.’

He closed the file. ‘We must dash if we’re not to be unpardonably late in Melton Square. I’ll fill you in on the Dedham scenario as we go. One last thing to do here. I won’t let this show go on a moment longer. I have the glimmerings of a scheme to neutralize this woman. I shall need your help. Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock suit you? Here? Rather a lot to think about … Excuse me while I set this up.’

He grabbed his phone and asked again for Bacchus. ‘James. That article in the Californian newspaper that caused you such amusement … San Francisco Advertiser, was it? Still got the cutting, have you? Bring it with you tomorrow. Here, at nine. Two more requests. Can you lay hands on the box of Romanov bits and bobs we have in stock somewhere? … No. Not the box that was delivered to the palace last year. That was just body parts and I’ve no wish to inspect those bogus offerings … charred jaw-bones … severed fingers and the like … I’m sure they’ve been sent out of the country anyway. Hasn’t the Pope taken delivery? No, I’m talking about the other one …You know very well … Shall we call it the Ekaterinburg hoard? … Oh, I make it my business to know these things. Never you mind! Just get hold of it! I don’t care how we came by it or how many arms you have to twist to get it … do what you have to do. And lastly, our forger-printer chap – roust him out again and tell him to start flexing his fingers. Oh, one more thing.’ He glanced speculatively at the painting. ‘A camera? Can you operate one? Bring it along, will you?’

Chapter Thirty-One

‘On your feet, Wentworth.’ Joe handed Lily her hat. ‘We have something to a

He began to deliver his briefing as they walked down to the taxi rank.

‘This Sebastian you’re about to meet – he’s Dedham’s nephew. His older sister’s boy, name of Marland. Amateur pilot before the war, he joined the Royal Flying Corps at the outbreak. Something of a wartime hero. Not many of those chaps survived. Sebastian was wounded early on. You’ll see he has a limp. He spent the subsequent years training others to go up and get themselves killed. And he proved to be that valuable resource – a survivor who could draw on his experience to devise devilish tactics for aerial combat. In fact, he was one of the hard-nosed brigade who turned the war in the air from the chivalrous gallop across the skies it was at the outset into a deadly three-dimensional pheasant shoot.’

‘And is he still a flyer, sir?’

‘No. In 1918 when the Corps became the Royal Air Force, there was no room for a now elderly – by their standards – chap with a game leg. Into his late twenties by then, he found himself surplus to requirements. After that he rather a

He was pleased with the startled look he’d provoked. He enjoyed startling the constable.

 ‘Joe! At last. We’d almost given up on you. And you bring us your colleague. Boys! Come and meet the young lady I’ve been telling you about, the one who’s helping Joe with our problems.’

Sandilands walked into the sitting room, tugging Lily along with him. He released her in order to go and have his hands squeezed by Cassandra Dedham, who rustled over in pearl grey silk, clinking jet and a waft of Mitsouko to kiss him on each cheek in the continental fashion. An anxious appraisal told him that the widow was looking surprisingly bobbish.

The two boys looked on for a moment, tender and amused. Then, the older one in the lead, they advanced on Lily.

‘We’ll introduce ourselves, miss,’ he said. ‘Once Mama gets Commander Sandilands in her sights she loses track of mere mortals like us! We shall have to entertain ourselves. I’m John and may I present my brother William, though we call him Billy.’

‘No, we jolly well don’t! Not now I’m fourteen!’ came the mock rebuke.

Joe listened until he heard Lily making sociable noises and begi

And why not? With her yellow frock and shock of yellow hair, Lily looked like a sunflower in the gloomy room, he thought. She raised the spirits. John, serious and competent at seventeen, was a good head taller than Lily, Billy on eye level. Joe checked covertly for signs of distress in the sons and saw none. In fact Billy, he would have said, was a little over-excited for a Sunday teatime, and so soon after his father’s death. He was talking loudly, even laughing with Lily.

Cassandra caught his concern. ‘Goodness. The little ones will be asking permission to play with their marbles on the carpet next,’ she said indulgently. ‘I’ve just sent Sebastian to organize a pot of fresh tea. On Sundays we mostly do our own fetching and carrying. There’s only Eva left scurrying around. Darjeeling suit?’ Cassandra broke off to perform her duties. ‘There are still lots of sandwiches left and we haven’t set about the cake yet. I sent out for your favourite, Joe – a Fuller’s walnut. Ah, here’s the tea.’

The door was opened by a flustered Eva who stepped aside to make way for a gentleman dressed in mourning and carrying a heavy tray.

‘Company,’ the stranger said cheerily. ‘Thank you, Eva. Now do stand clear and don’t fuss me. That’ll be all, my dear. We’ll wait on ourselves now – you and Cook can put your feet up,’ he said.

Eva smiled, cast him a shy glance and bobbed her way out.

Joe froze as Sebastian Marland ran an assessing eye over the distance to the nearest table, made his calculation, and set off across the Afghan rug. Always a tricky decision: whether to dash forward and snatch the tray from his hands or studiously ignore the disability. Taking his cue from Cassandra, who was nonchalantly busying herself clearing a space, Joe stayed put.

Sebastian Marland touched down safely and turned to greet Sandilands. ‘Commander. Good to see you again. Though I could wish it were in different circumstances.’

Joe nodded and smiled with equal pleasure. ‘Captain. Gloomy time for you all … May I—’

‘No need for all that. Commiserations taken as understood.’