Read Murder Most Posh: A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery for Free Online Page B

open dance floor, and behind these were larger tables for parties.
       The orchestra was playing a selection of popular jazz songs. A number of young people were dancing, dressed in black suits and formal gowns; it was a delight to witness.
       Xavier and I enjoyed dancing, though neither of us was really good at it. I lacked grace, and my poor Xavier was frightfully clumsy. We could clear a dance floor in the fashion of a bowling ball striking the pins. It hadn’t been safe for anyone to be too close to us.
       I slipped my hand into my purse and took a clove from my silver snuff box. The scent and the taste quickly eased my melancholy, and I felt as if my Xavier were near me.
       Good manners forced Lucy and me to follow the Beaumonts to an open table some distance from the lively orchestra. Mr. Beaumont said something in French, and his wife remarked, “I know; they don’t have to play so loud.”
       Mr. Beaumont took his pocket watch from his vest, checked the time, and uttered something else that I couldn’t understand.
       “It doesn’t matter how late we are out, Jerome, we’ll still need our sleeping tonic,” Maxie told her husband, and then, to me, she said, “With this ship swaying this way and that way, we can’t sleep through the night without a little assistance.”
       We were just settled when a familiar pair approached us.
      “May we join you?  My husband told me that I was dreadfully ill-mannered and must apologize,” said the countess with little grace. 
       “Think nothing of it,” I said before Maxie could make some ill-humored remark. “Travel is so taxing, and it creates such stress.”
       The countess bobbed her head and replied, “Like husband.”
       Maxie gave a great forced laugh, and she squeezed her husband’s little elbow until he winced.
       The pair sat down at the table, and Mathew Farquhar introduced himself and his wife. He was indeed a fine-looking man. With his black hair and strong features, he might have been an actor on the silver screen.
       After introducing Lucy and myself, I noticed that the countess’s eyes fell on my ruby engagement ring. When she realized that she had been staring at it for too long, she remarked, “Very beautiful ruby; it reminds me of the Romanov Star.”
       The comparison made me blush. “To me, it is just as valuable as any famous jewel.” 
       “It has been in family long time?” asked the countess, placing an economy on the amount of words she used to convey her thoughts in English.
      “My husband’s family, yes.”
       Mathew asked, “Are you meeting your husband in the States?”
       Quickly, with a polite and chipper tone, I responded, “I’m afraid my dear Xavier is in Heaven rather than the States.” Making it obvious that I wished to change the subject back to jewels, I pointed to the glistening diamond worn as a pendant on a gold chain around Maxie’s ever so large neck. “What a lovely stone; it looks quite dazzling.”
       Proudly, Maxie ran her chubby fingers about the gem and smiled. Politely, she, in turn, pointed to the countess’s emerald bracelet and said, “Forget about the china, look at those crystals.”
       The countess gestured at Maxie’s pendant and retorted, “That is crystals!” Indignantly, she jangled her bracelet and said, “These is perfect emeralds; my husband paid fortune for them.”
       Lucy, ever sweet-hearted, looked to the countess and said, “Mrs. Beaumont didn’t mean to insult your bracelet. What she said was a compliment. Mrs. Stayton and I had just discussed the confusion caused by slang the other day. We can all tell that they are high-quality stones.”
         “Yes, dear, no one is putting down your jewelry,” Mathew chimed in, fearful of his wife’s temper.
       The countess eased back in her chair and nodded. Although her nostrils were still flared, she tried to smile.
       Mathew decided to change the topic of