Murder Most Posh: A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery by Robert Colton Page A

wave her little gloved hand. I stepped forward to do the same. Looking below, my eyes fell not at first on him, but on the woman beside Mr. Hurst.
       Gazing up toward us, Countess Orlov appeared very startled to see Lucy and me waving to her and her companion.
      “The countess…” said Lucy, her arm freezing in the air as she stuttered.
       “Yes, Lucy, let’s leave them to their business.”
       With one last wave, I stepped away and tugged a confused Lucy with me.
       “How did she get to the second-class promenade? What business would she have with Mr. Hurst?”
       I hadn’t an answer for my friend’s questions. “I don’t think that it should concern us…”
       We were just passing the first-class reading room when, through the window, I saw Mathew Farquhar. He did not see me; his attention was directed toward a slender woman with very blonde hair, wearing a garish pink dress with black polka dots. I could not see her face for two reasons: there was a glare on the window, and her face was pushed against Mr. Farquhar’s as they kissed.
       “Dear Heaven!” exclaimed Lucy when she realized what I was looking at.
       “This has nothing to do with Heaven,” I murmured.
     
     
        With shaking hands, I jotted in my notebook all we had witnessed. Lucy paced the floor of our shared bedroom, repeating a single word: “Scandalous!”
       Once through with my notes, I looked up and said, “I have all the characters; now I just need a crime…”
       Lucy and I both jumped when there was a knock at the door. Passing by our sleepy new friend, Yara, in the parlor, I opened the door to the hall. Mr. Pace stood outside with his hat in his hands.
       “Good afternoon, Mr. Pace,” I said, my heart still racing.
      “Good afternoon, Mrs. Stayton,” he replied and paused to find just the right words. “I say…well, it’s just…you see…well, dash it…”
       “Yes, Mr. Pace?”
       “I wanted to tell you…I admire that spirit of kindness and generosity of yours.” He bowed his head, and then looked back to me, and his mouth opened, but no words came out. He shrugged and smiled.
       “That is very sweet of you, Mr. Pace.”
       Bashfully, he smiled and replied, “Right. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
       “A compliment is far from a disturbance, Mr. Pace,” I assured him before he bowed his head once more and departed.
       The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Before dinner, Lucy and I turned Yara into a sort of dress-up doll. Going through our collective attire, we found that she looked most stunning in a crimson evening gown that Mother Stayton had insisted I purchase for myself.
       Far too flashy on me, the dress complemented Yara’s dark complexion and beautiful black hair. From her small stash of personal effects, she produced a necklace made from large, colorful marble beads. 
       Compared to our exotic friend, Lucy and I appeared quite mild mannered. Lucy wore a dark purple gown of soft velvet, and I lent her my emerald necklace and earrings. She looked ever so elegant. I wore a simple black gown and my favorite pearl earrings. It suited me just fine that my companions would be the center of attention.
       Dressed and hungry, we made our way to the dining room. The steward led us to the same table as the evening before. Of course, the Beaumonts were already there.
       Quickly, I introduced Yara and explained, “There was a problem with her accommodations, so she is sharing our suite.”
       (I knew it was wrong to tell a lie, but in truth, there certainly was a problem with the young lady’s accommodations—she would have been incarcerated in the ship’s hospital.)
       Tiny Mr. Beaumont mumbled something, mostly in French, while his wife gazed skeptically at Yara. Rather than making any sort of greeting, she asked, “What kind of stones are those?”
       Yara ran a graceful finger over her necklace and replied,