Royal Flush Read Online Free

stunning in white linen trousers and a black-and-white-striped blouse. The ensemble was topped off with a jaunty little black pillbox hat. One would never have guessed that she had probably been out all night.
    “Ready?” she asked, casting a critical eye over my summer dress and the cloche, from which most of the mud had been removed. “Are you sure that outfit will be suitable for flying upside down?”
    “I think I’ll leave the flying upside down to you,” I said, “and I don’t possess any trousers other than the ones I wear around the estate at home, and they smell of horse.”
    “We’ll have to do something about your wardrobe, darling.” She attempted to smooth the creases from my cotton skirt. “What a pity your mother is so petite, or you could have all her castoffs.”
    “She’s offered to buy me new clothes on several occasions, but you know my mother. She always forgets and flits away again. Besides, I don’t think I’d feel comfortable accepting money that comes from her German boyfriend.”
    “She’s still with her beefy industrialist, then?”
    “The last time I heard. But that was a month ago. Who knows.”
    Belinda chuckled. I closed the front door and followed her to a waiting taxicab.
    “So do tell, I’m dying to hear about last night,” she said as the cab drove off. “How was your dinner with Mr. Hamburger?”
    “Schlossberger,” I corrected. “Hiram Schlossberger, from Kansas City. It went exactly as you predicted. He was completely overawed by my royal connections and he would keep calling me ‘Your Highness’ even though I told him I was only ‘my lady’ and that we didn’t have to be so formal. He was rather a dear, actually, but I’m afraid he was rather boring. He produced snapshots of his wife and children and dog and even the cows on his ranch.”
    “But you did get a good meal out of it?”
    “Delicious. Although Mr. Schlossberger wasn’t happy with it. He turned his nose up at the foie gras and the lobster bisque and said all he wanted was a good steak. Then he complained about the size of it. Apparently at home he eats steaks that are so large they hang over the sides of the plate.”
    “Heavens, that’s half a cow. But you had some decent bubbly, I hope?”
    I shook my head. “He doesn’t drink. Prohibition, you know.”
    “How ridiculous. Everybody knows that prohibition exists, but everybody drinks anyway. Except him, apparently. So what did you drink?”
    I made a face. “Lemonade. He ordered it for both of us.”
    Belinda touched my arm. “My darling, I am so sorry. Next time I foist off one of my men on you, I’ll make sure he doesn’t drink lemonade.”
    “Next time?” I asked. “Do you make a habit of this sort of thing?”
    “Oh, absolutely, darling. How else does one get a decent meal occasionally? And one is doing a public service, actually. These poor men come to London to do business and they don’t know anybody so they are delighted to be seen with a young society woman who can show them how to behave. Your Mr. Hamburger will be bragging about you for years, I’m sure.”
    We alighted from our taxicab at Victoria Station and soon our train was huffing and puffing through the drea rier parts of south London on our way to Croydon. Belinda had launched into a long description of the villa in Italy. I was half listening as I stared out of the window at those pathetic back gardens with lines of washing strung across them. Because an idea was germinating in my mind. All those men Belinda had mentioned—in London alone on business and having to eat without companionship. What if I started a service to supply each of them with a charming dinner companion of impeccable social pedigree—in other words, moi . It would be better than cleaning houses and at the very least would keep the wolf from the door. At best it might prove to be highly successful and I’d be able to buy myself a decent wardrobe and mingle in society a little more