Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Royal Flush by Rhys Bowen

Georgie is a bit depressed. She is in London and it's hot. She's just about out of money so she decides to run an ad after she has dinner with a lonely man her friend arranged for her (so she could get a free meal). She wants to start an escort service for lonely men that need dinner dates. Unfortunately, it is not what other people think she means. She almost gets attacked by an angry customer. Thankfully, Darcy saves her. She loves Darcy but does not understand him.
The next morning some policemen come and escort her to headquarters. She thinks she is in trouble for her ad. Since she is in line for the throne, bad behavior is frowned upon. But the police think someone may be trying to kill some of the royals and they want her help. They send her up to Scotland to her family's home which is near Balmoral where the King, Queen, princes and others are vacationing. Georgie's brother had had an unfortunate accident with an animal trap and is laid up. Her sister in law needs help since Mrs. Simpson and her entourage are staying at their house.
Georgie is trying to figure out what is actually happening. Several attempts are made on her life and another woman on their estate. Then a man is murdered during a hunt. Soon the murderer will be revealed! Georgie had just about figured it out!

I have never read this series before and I liked this story. I liked Georgie's spunk and determination to help.

From goodreads:
A Royal Spyness mystery starring Lady Georgiana, thirty-fourth in line for the throne - and the mystery world's favorite penniless heiress.

With its posh clientele in the country for the summer, Georgie's housecleaning business has fizzled. So she tries hiring herself out as a dinner-and-theatre companion. But her first client has quite the wrong idea. To avoid further scandal, Georgie's shipped home to Castle Rannoch, where her summer plans include honoring a promise to Her Majesty to keep Castle Rannoch's divorcée houseguest from seducing the Prince of Wales. She's also been coerced into helping Scotland Yard with a top-secret mission - namely keeping an eye on the shooting party at Balmoral and preventing someone from shooting the Prince. And Georgie must manage all this without strangling her odious sister-in-law Fig or spineless brother Binky.

The taxi sped away, leaving me alone in the deserted street. It had rained again and the flashing red sign was reflected in the puddles as I crossed the road. I pushed open the door and found myself facing a flight of steps going down to a basement. Music spilled up to greet me–the wail of a saxophone and a heavy drum beat. I held onto the rail as I went down the steps. This then was a real night club. I had never been in a place like this. The stairs were steep with worn carpet on them. And I was wearing my one pair of high heeled shoes, in my attempt to look glamorous. I haven’t mentioned yet that I am apt to be clumsy in moments of stress. Half way down my heel caught in a threadbare patch in the carpet. I pitched forward, grasped at the railing and ended up slithering down the last of the stairs, arriving at the bottom in a most undignified way as I cannoned into a potted palm. I hastened to pick myself up before anyone had observed this unorthodox entry. I was in a sort of dark ante room with an antique writing desk and chair, mercifully unoccupied. The area was separated from the main area by a row of potted palms, one of which now had a frond hanging down, thanks to me. A man had just been emerging from the club beyond the palms. He was staggering slightly as if drunk and started in alarm when I came hurtling down the stairs toward him.
“Let me give you a word of advice, girlie,” he said in slurred tones, wagging a finger at me. “Don’t drink any more tonight. You’ve already had enough. Trust me I know.” Then he staggered past me up the stairs.
I collected myself and smoothed down my skirt and my hair before I went through into the club itself. It was dimly lit, with candles on small tables and the only real light came from the stage where a girl was dancing.
“Can I help you, miss?” A swarthy man in dinner jacket appeared at my side. He didn’t seem to possess a razor.
“I’m meeting someone here,” I said. “A mister Crump.”
“Ah. I see.” He gave me something between a grin and a leer. “He’s expecting you. At that table on the far right.”
The man looked up as I approached him and he rose to his feet.
“Mr. Crump?” I said, holding out my hand to him. “My agency sent me. Coronet Escorts?”
He was a ruddy, bloated sort of fellow with what he probably thought was a jaunty moustache which looked more like a hedgehog perched on his upper lip. What’s more, he was wearing an ordinary day suit and a rather loud tie. I saw him giving me a long once over.
To read more, click here.
Pages: 306
Published: 2009

No comments: