Murder Most Royal

To her left, there was a stile set into a rough stone wall, with a large paddock beyond. Her gammy knee ached for exercise. She wasn’t exactly dressed for a walk in the country, but it hadn’t rained for days and the path to the stile was dry. She changed out of her patent shoes into more practical boots that she always kept in the back of the car and retrieved a silk scarf that she kept in the back-seat armrest for emergencies, knotting it under her chin. Though she couldn’t see the road, the view across the fields from here was delightful.

There were worse places to wait.

Heading for the stile, her leg felt better with each step and when she reached the field – which turned out to be a rough paddock – she saw two ponies grazing in the middle. Depiscopo could easily find her here. He might panic for a moment when he saw the empty Range Rover, but it would be obvious where she had gone.

She had nearly reached the nearest pony, picking her way carefully across tussocks of grass and watching out for rabbit holes, when the sound of hooves grew rapidly louder and she glanced to her left to see a grey stallion sail over the hedge marking the northern boundary, before landing heavily not fifty feet from her.

Its rider wore immaculate hunting pink and a hard hat. He must be part of the distant drag hunt. But they were miles away by now.

‘Are you lost?’ the Queen called out cheerily.

He trotted towards her without speaking. As he grew closer, her absolute astonishment was mirrored by his.

Lord Mundy brought his horse to a halt and dismounted, keeping the reins in one gloved hand and his riding crop in the other.

His horse breathed heavily beside him. Hugh looked very different without his ancient tweed and baling twine. The smart red jacket and white stock under his chin brought back memories of younger days, when he had been a dashing huntsman. He beamed at her and bowed.

‘Of all the fields in all the world, ma’am . . . What are you doing here?’

‘Avoiding an accident. I might ask the same thing.

’

‘I took a wrong turning and lost the pack twenty minutes ago,’ he said. ‘Thought I heard the horn, raced over three fields and now, God knows where I am. I’m out of practice. But it’s been a good morning.’

‘Has it?’ The Queen was starting to regret several of the decisions of the last ten minutes. There was still no sign of Rozie, the driver or her protection officer. ‘Don’t you have the police with you at Ladybridge?’

‘Ah. You heard about that. I slipped away.