Love and death among the cheetahs

Rhys Bowen

Large print - 2019

While on their honeymoon in Kenya, Georgie and Darcy O'Mara investigate the suspicious death of Lord Cheriton, an investigation that the English enclave of Happy Valley--of which Lord Cheriton was a member--would like closed as quickly as possible.

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Subjects
Genres
Mystery fiction
Detective and mystery fiction
Published
Waterville, ME : Thorndike Press, a part of Gale, a Cengage Company 2019.
Language
English
Main Author
Rhys Bowen (author)
Edition
Large print edition
Item Description
[Large Print].
Hardcover.
Sequel to: Four funerals and maybe a wedding.
Physical Description
459 pages (large print) ; 23 cm
ISBN
9781432867102
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

A honeymoon in Kenya is a surprise for Lady Georgiana Rannoch, granddaughter of Queen Victoria and thirty-fourth in line for the throne, after she marries Darcy O'Mara in 1935. He announces the plan after several postnuptial days on a houseboat on the Thames, and Georgie is suspicious that this is a trip for more than pleasure. She's right: while the Queen asks Georgie to keep an eye on the Prince of Wales in Africa, so that he doesn't run off with Mrs. Simpson, Darcy is tasked with finding a jewel thief and more. Soon after the couple arrives in Happy Valley where the upper-class English residents are devoted to drink, drugs, and bed-hopping a prominent member of the community, thrice-married Lord Cheriton, makes a pass at Georgie. Days later Georgie and Darcy decline the activities at one of Lady Idina Sackville's infamous parties and leave early, only to come upon Cheriton's partially eaten body off the road near his car. Then someone begins threatening the couple's safety as they prepare for a safari. An appealing addition to the Royal Spyness mystery series, with hints of the political upheavals that lie ahead.--Michele Leber Copyright 2019 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Set in 1935, bestseller Bowen's disappointing 13th Royal Spyness mystery (after 2018's Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding) finds Lady Georgiana Rannoch, a distant relative of the royal family, finally married to Darcy O'Mara, who performs shadowy work on behalf of the British government. After an enjoyable honeymoon in England, Darcy reveals plans to extend the post-wedding celebration in Kenya, where he has been asked, as he admits on arrival, to find the jewel thief responsible for "several daring and spectacular burglaries in London" targeting high society. The community of expats provides a pool of suspects. Darcy's investigation takes a more serious turn when he and Georgiana come across a body that has been mauled by wild animals, which he believes is that of a murder victim. Much of the humor in previous volumes originated with Georgiana's inept and clumsy maid, Queenie, who remains offstage. As in her Molly Murphy series, Bowen struggles to transition her lead into married life without detracting from what made that lead memorable. Fans will hope for a return to form next time. Agent: Meg Ruley, Jane Rotrosen Agency. (Aug.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review

After a short honeymoon on a houseboat, Lady Georgiana's new husband, Darcy O'Mara, surprises her with a trip to Kenya and finally admits he's going on assignment to catch a jewel thief. Georgie suspects there's more to it than that but doesn't push the issue immediately. The newlyweds head for Happy Valley, where the upper-class English live close enough together to party with drinks, drugs, and wife-swapping. Georgie is angry when she's propositioned. She stops Lord Cheriton's loutish behavior yet is still shocked when she and Darcy sneak out of the party and find the man murdered along the road. Almost everyone had a reason to want him dead, but Georgie is the one who discovers the truth. VERDICT As in the award-winning author's 11th in the series, On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service, Bowen takes a serious turn, focusing on the depraved lifestyle of the English in Kenya and foreshadowing World War II while including a safari and air travel. Fans who read the books for the light humor may be disappointed, but those who appreciate Bowen's knowledge of the pre- and postwar years, as in In Farleigh Field, will be receptive to the atmospheric historical details. [See Prepub Alert, 2/4/19.]--Lesa Holstine, Evansville Vanderburgh P.L., IN

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review

Exotic animals, unbridled sex, and murder provide all the necessaries for a perfect honeymoon.Lady Georgiana Rannoch (Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding, 2018, etc.) may no longer be 35th in line to the throne, but she's finally Mrs. Darcy O'Mara. Although she and Darcy return to Rannoch House to go through wedding presents, Darcy promises her an exotic honeymoon, and when the queen offers them the use of Balmoral at a garden party, he announces that they're going instead to Kenya. They fly with Rowena Hartley, a mean girl at Georgie's school, and her brother, Rupert, both on a visit to their father, who wants to see the children he's ignored for years now that he's become Lord Cheriton. An even worse fellow passenger is Mrs. Simpson, who plans to spend time with the Prince of Wales. Georgie has always suspected that Darcy's some kind of spy, and she's uneasy that the trip's been arranged by government official Freddie Blanchford but eager to stay with Diddy Ruocco in the infamous Happy Valley, where they meet lots of aristocrats who live in high style. Darcy admits that he's on the trail of a jewel thief, but Georgie suspects he's holding back a bigger secret. When they dine with Lord Cheriton, aka Bwana Hartley, he makes a hard pass at Georgie and displays his short temper and Nazi sympathies. Invited to one of Lady Idina's wild overnight parties, they realize that the couples spend all night changing partners. A shocked Georgie spends a restless night alone with Darcy until they sneak out early in the morning only to discover Bwana's car in the middle of the road and his partly eaten body nearby. From that point on, the beauties of Kenya take a back seat to sleuthing, which disturbs someone enough to bait wild animals to kill them.Bowen provides more social commentary than usual in this lighthearted series, revealing the careless bigotry and racism of the aristocratic Brits in Kenya, and the tale is all the better for it. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Chapter 1 July 31, 1935 On a houseboat, outside Marlow, Bucks This is my first diary entry as Mrs. Darcy O'Mara. I can hardly believe it. We've been married three whole days now and frankly I haven't found much time for writing in my diary. We seem to have been awfully busy. . . . "You know what I really fancy right now?" I sat up, almost banging my head on the roof of the small cabin of our houseboat. I looked down at Darcy, who was lying beside me. Lying naked beside me, actually, but with a sheet draped discreetly over the important bits. It was a hot and muggy afternoon and we had been taking a rest from more strenuous activities (it was, after all, the fourth day of our honeymoon). Darcy opened his eyes slowly and they flashed with that naughty and sexy look I had always found so irresistible. "Really? Again? Already?" I slapped his naked shoulder. "No, silly. Not that. What I really fancy right now is a cucumber sandwich." "But we don't have any cucumber. Or any fresh bread." "Precisely." I sighed. We had been lent this houseboat on a deserted stretch of the Thames outside Marlow in Buckinghamshire and had escaped here right after the wedding. Darcy's pal who had offered his boat had also stocked it with all kinds of good things-oysters, smoked salmon, runny cheeses, chocolate, peaches and lots of champagne. In short, everything anyone would want after the stress of a wedding that included the king and queen, not to mention the two little princesses as bridesmaids. Amazingly the ceremony had gone off without a hitch. I had not caught my foot in my train and pitched onto my face halfway up the aisle. I had not dropped cake down my front. It had been wonderful, magical, the perfect start to a life of bliss ahead. And the houseboat had been a brilliant idea too. Nobody around for miles. No servants to intrude at awkward moments. Only a couple of cows behind a fence to spy on us. We had eaten, drunk, made love and repeated the aforementioned over and over. We had lain out on the top deck with a glass of champagne in hand and watched the stars. We had even seen shooting stars, which was remarkable so close to London. It had been absolutely perfect. But now reality was creeping in. We had eaten all the good food. The ice had melted in the icebox. The bread was stale. The chocolate had turned into a brown puddle. And we had no cucumber. This meant a long hike along the canal path to the nearest shop. Which was not particularly inviting, given that we were experiencing a heat wave, or that my maid, Queenie, had packed only my elegant shoes and not my summer sandals. The other alternative meant admitting the first stage of our honeymoon was over and we should return to civilization where cucumber sandwiches, a long soak in a real bathtub and changes of clothes awaited and I could wash my hair. The joys of living in primitive conditions are glorious, but one does miss basic comforts after a while. Also the height of the cabin ceiling and the doorway from the galley had meant several bruises on our heads. Neither of us had wanted to admit it, but we were ready to go home. Well, not home exactly. I wasn't ready to go back to Eynsleigh-the country house I had sort of inherited-back to life with my mother, my grandfather and Sir Hubert, much as I loved them all. I wasn't too keen to go over to Darcy's castle in Ireland, although it was certainly remote enough. I was not ready to stay with my brother and sister-in-law at Rannoch House in London. Golly-can you imagine Darcy and me trying to have interesting sexual encounters knowing that my sister-in-law, Fig, was listening? Probably trying to peek through the keyhole? It would inhibit my sexual freedom for life! The same would be true for our friend Zou Zou, the Princess Zamanska, in whose elegant London home we were always welcome. She wouldn't mind what we got up to in bed. She'd probably even offer suggestions. But none of the above seemed right at the moment. It was our honeymoon. We were supposed to be alone, getting to know each other without outside interference. Before we married, Darcy had actually promised that he would take care of the honeymoon. "Don't worry. I have it in hand," he had said. Somewhere wonderful and exotic, he had said. I didn't like to say anything, because I knew he didn't have oodles of money to fly me around the world. But at this moment I was wondering whether these four days on a boat outside London were it-my entire honeymoon. All I had to look forward to. I hadn't even had a chance to wear my new silk knickers! Darcy was still looking up at me. "So what do you think?" he asked. "Have we had enough of seafaring life?" I laughed. "You can hardly call a houseboat moored to the bank of the Thames 'seafaring.' But yes, I am finding it a little confining. I'd love a proper bath and not in the river and I really would love a cucumber sandwich." "So you want to go home?" "I suppose so. What about you?" He sighed. "I admit, I have banged my head on that bloody doorway one time too many." "Are you allowed to swear in my presence now that we're married?" I asked with mock primness. "Oh absolutely. Abso-bloody-lutely." He laughed and wrestled me down to the bed again. "I have to make sure you don't start turning into your great-grandmother now that you are married." "But she adored Prince Albert. They had the happiest marriage in creation." "But she was also not amused by a risquZ joke," he pointed out. "Although some do say she had a fling with her Scottish chappie, Mr. Brown." "It was hardly a fling. She was seventy-something, wasn't she?" I started to laugh. "Anyway." Darcy turned me toward him and stroked back my hair. "You're going to have to put up with me as I am, including my faults, of which occasional swearing is one. And we'll be as happy as Victoria and Albert and have at least nine children." "Nine?" "You like children, don't you?" "Yes . . . but nine?" He laughed and ruffled my hair. "We're going to have a lot of fun, Georgie. Life is going to be an adventure." "I hope so." I nestled up against his naked chest, feeling safe and secure for the first time in my life. I hadn't really thought about it before but my mother bolted when I was two. My father spent his time in Monte Carlo and eventually killed himself. I was never allowed to see my nonroyal grandfather. I had a kind nanny and then a strict governess but nobody who clearly loved me and cherished me. And now I did. I was wife of the Honorable Darcy O'Mara, heir to Lord Kilhenny of Ireland. I would still retain my own title and be addressed as Lady Georgiana because I was the daughter of a duke. It was all very satisfactory. I sat up again. "So, talking of adventure, do we have something planned after this? And you'd better not tell me that you've been called away on some kind of hush-hush assignment." (I should mention that my husband doesn't have a proper job but he does seem to be whisked away to strange parts of the globe doing something for the British government. He won't exactly tell me what he does.) "There won't be any more hush-hush assignments now, Georgie," he said gently. "I told you that they offered me a desk job at the Foreign Office." "But you don't really want it, do you?" I gave him a worried look. "It's more fitting for a married man, isn't it? We'll start having children. It's important that their father is at home. It's important for you that I'm there." "Let's not talk about it now," I said. "Let's not worry about the future, except perhaps where we are going to go when we leave this boat." "We could go back to Eynsleigh," he said. "It's got lovely grounds. We could maybe persuade your godfather to put in a swimming pool." "I agree it is lovely, but it also has my mother and grandfather in residence as well as Sir Hubert and the servants. Mummy will surely be barging in on us and we'll have no privacy. Besides, Eynsleigh is where we'll live from now on. It will be going back to real life and I'm not ready for that yet." "Then what are the alternatives?" he asked. "We could always pop over to Kilhenny Castle. I know my father would like that. Zou Zou might be there too." "Precisely," I said. "And your crazy aunt and uncle . . . too much family too soon." "I presume that also means your brother and sister-in-law." "Certainly not Rannoch House with my darling brother and sister-in-law," I replied, more sharply than I had intended. "I mean, they were jolly nice to host our wedding reception, but I can only take Fig in very small doses." "We haven't looked at our wedding presents yet," Darcy reminded me. "We should at least put in an appearance and arrange to have them shipped down to Eynsleigh." "Yes, I suppose we'd better do that. Actually that will be rather fun, won't it? I'm dying to see what we have been given, aren't you?" "I'd say Eynsleigh is quite well furnished right now," he said. "I can't think what we still need." "It would be nice to start life with one's own china and silver, wouldn't it?" He made a face. "I suppose women do think that way. For me, as long as I have a plate to put my food on I don't care if it's Royal Doulton or tin." "You're awful," I said as he grinned at me. "Less than four days married and you are calling me awful," he sighed. "I guess the honeymoon really is over." "Oh golly, I hope not," I said. "I thought we might be going somewhere special." "You don't consider this special?" "It was absolutely lovely," I agreed. "Perfect, in fact, but I had hoped for a little longer time on our own. I'm not ready to face Fig and my mother and the world." "We'll go somewhere else, I promise," he said. "But at this moment . . ." "You don't have anything else planned, do you?" He could hear the disappointment in my voice. I was about to remind him that he had proclaimed, in front of witnesses, that he had a wonderful honeymoon surprise for me. Was this it? I wondered. I knew I should be grateful. There were plenty of people in this world who worked in factories or were out of work, standing in soup lines with no hope of the sort of life we took for granted. Time to grow up, Georgie, I thought. "I have a few things that need sorting out first," Darcy said. "You just need to be patient." I managed a bright smile. "All right," I said. "We'll go and look at our wedding presents at Rannoch House. If we hurry we'll be in time for tea and I know Mrs. McPherson will make cucumber sandwiches." Chapter 2 July 31 Rannoch House, Belgrave Square, London W.1. Back to the real world. Sigh. I wish our delicious bubble could have lasted longer. I mustn't show myself to be disappointed that Darcy hasn't managed to wangle a long, exotic honeymoon for us. I'm sure he tried. And I do have the rest of my life to be with him! "Welcome home, my lady." My brother's elderly butler, Hamilton, beamed at me as I stood at the front door of Rannoch House on Belgrave Square. "I was not informed that you were returning so soon or I'd have had the maids air out your room." "Hello, Hamilton." I smiled back at him. "You weren't to know. It was an impulsive decision on our part, due to a sudden desire for cucumber sandwiches." "Indeed? Then let me go and inform Mrs. McPherson immediately that sandwiches are requested and I'll have them brought out to the terrace, where Her Grace is currently awaiting her tea. Would you like me to go through and announce you?" "I think we can find our own way, thank you. Please go and arrange the sandwiches." Hamilton nodded to Darcy, who had just joined me after paying the taxicab driver. "Welcome, Mr. O'Mara," he said. "If you leave the bags there, I'll have them taken up for you in a jiffy." "Thank you, Hamilton," Darcy said. "Good to see you looking so fit." "It's the fine weather, sir. It works wonders for my rheumatics after Castle Rannoch, which does tend to be just a tad damp and cold." He gave a little nod of a bow before retreating belowstairs. Darcy slipped an arm around my shoulder as we went through the front hallway. "If only we manage to find a butler like Hamilton," he muttered. "They are in short supply, I'm sure," I whispered back. "They don't make them like that anymore." We opened the door to the ballroom at the back of the house. The room itself was not often used but it had French doors that opened onto a lovely terrace beyond. That was rarely used too, given the normal English summer weather. But we had held our wedding reception out there and jolly nice it had been too. The French doors were now open to the terrace and someone was sitting in a deck chair. Darcy gave me a little push. "You should probably be the one to let your sister-in-law know we are here." "Coward," I hissed. He grinned. "Just following protocol. It wouldn't be right for a mere son of a baron to precede the daughter of a duke onto a terrace." I stuck my tongue out at him and stepped from the darkness of the ballroom into the blinding sunlight. Fig was reclining in a deck chair, wearing shorts and a halter top of a rather lurid shade of pink, which matched the color of her skin and made her look like a large cooked prawn. "Hello, Fig," I called cheerily. She sat up, startled, blinking at me. "Good God, Georgiana. We weren't expecting you so soon. Ah well, don't say I didn't warn you." "What on earth do you mean?" "Well, the marriage is obviously over. You've discovered the truth about your husband and his depraved habits. I knew you would. One has heard rumors, you know." Excerpted from Love and Death among the Cheetahs by Rhys Bowen All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.