Murder at the Spring Ball: A 1920s Mystery by Benedict Brown (romantic novels in english .txt) 📗

It was a whole different situation in the ballroom where things were starting to swing. With its long mirrors, which caught the beams from the the crystal chandeliers above the dancers’ heads, and all those pretty beaded dresses on the young ladies, the whole place was ablaze with light. While it was true that the vases of flowers which circled the room caused a bit of a crush in the middle of the floor, everyone appeared to be having a wonderful time.

The band had started playing and they were a little racier than I had expected. Most of their musical choices appeared to be of American influence, not that my brother and his friends seemed to mind. They shimmied about the place with arms and legs whipping through the air. Albert had clearly got over his broken heart and only had eyes for the young lovely he was dancing with. He presumably hadn’t realised that she was our cousin, Margaret Hillington-Smythe, whose family had recently returned from South Africa.

A few senior guests were standing at the side of the room looking appalled by the display of such frivolity. As far as I was concerned, they could think what they liked. I was on top of the world and no stuffy, old dinosaurs could change that.

Marmaduke Adelaide, however, very much could.

“Hello there, Chrissy!” Oakton Academy’s fiercest bully always spoke at a level that ensured everyone could hear him, no matter how large the room. “How’s the eye?”

“My mother had to put makeup on it, thanks to you.” Why did I tell him this? “If you think you can come crashing in here uninvited, well… you can think again.”

He grew even smugger. “Really, Christopher. What do you take me for? I have an invitation just like everyone else.”

I seriously considered losing my temper then, but couldn’t forget the stomach-churning click I’d heard when his fist had made contact with my eye.

“Oh, yes? And who invited you?”

Marmalade’s huge, ginger head displayed a Cheshire Cat’s smile right then and I wished I’d had the courage to wipe it off his face.

“He did!” He pointed to the entrance just as a handsome gent in a white suit and silk scarf wandered through with a pack of outrageously dressed girls in tow.

George Trevelyan was Aunt Belinda’s oldest son and an out-and-out bounder. At only twenty-four he’d been engaged three times and run up bills in every club in London which, if the rumours were to be believed, his mother had finally refused to cover. After finishing a degree in moral sciences at Cambridge, he’d shown no great flair for science or morality and spent the years since then as a most notorious gadabout. He was the rogue of our family and I thought he was wonderful.

He held his arms out towards me as he approached. “Chrissy, how marvellous to see you. I play golf with Marmaduke’s father and heard he was just desperate to come, so I brought him along. Be a good boy and get our guest a Hanky-Panky, won’t you?”

I was clearly confused by the request as he quickly followed it up with, “Don’t look so scandalised, Chrissy. It’s just a cocktail.”

George spoke incredibly fast and had a habit of bowling everyone over with the intensity of whatever he was saying so that we’d end up doing his bidding without fully understanding why. Despite the fact there were paid employees to perform this very task, I zipped to the bar in the corner where Todd was cutting a fine figure in his footman’s waistcoat and breeches.

“I could slip something nasty in his drink, if you like?” he (I assume) joked as he poured various bottles into a shaker.

I smiled at him soberly. “Thank you for your support. Who knows, I might even agree before the night is over.”

He winked at me and I carried the drink back across the room, by which time the whole gang of new arrivals had melted into the pulsating crowd of dancers.

“Oh, Chrissy?” Aunt Belinda called with a high-pitched giggle. “Chrissy darling, is that for me?”

She was already sozzled but I handed her the mellow brown cocktail. Marmalade was long gone and I couldn’t see how one more glass on top of the ten she’d already consumed would make much difference.

“I thought that you and Uncle Maitland had decided not to come?”

Her grey hair was pinned higher and tighter than ever and I had to wonder if there was any blood reaching her brain. She was the only one of her generation dressed in a modern style, but I can’t say it suited her. The hemline of her skirt crashed about above her ankles as she attempted to keep herself upright.

“Who am I to turn down an invitation to a party?” She put one finger on my lip as if she was afraid I might answer. “My dear sweet nephew, there comes a time when the invitations disappear altogether. So seize these moments. Enjoy them and seize them.”

She was beginning to repeat herself, and I wondered what I could do to escape when my mother caught sight of her sister draped over me.

She marched straight up to us. “Why on Earth are you bothering poor Christopher?”

Belinda managed to support her own weight and her befuddled eyes blinked away the brightness of the room. “How lovely to see you, Violet! It’s been far too long. When was the last time we saw one another?”

“Sunday.” My mother has a talent for sharp answers and this one was delivered with a surgeon’s blade.

“Yes, that’s right, well… lovely nonetheless.” Sensing her little sister’s hostility, Belinda waved goodbye and tottered out onto the floor to display her complete ignorance of how to dance a foxtrot.

“The place looks incredible, Christopher. It genuinely does.” My mother is a good sort really and always knows how to cheer me up. “I hope you’re having a nice time.”

She took a moment to marvel at our surroundings as the