“Yes, your maid, Ida Mae, trying to converse with the locals.”
Corina laughed low, a melody that lingered with him longer than the movie’s dynamic score. At least in this moment. “She’d come in from the shops. ‘I declare, Horatia, but I think I got yet another weddin’ proposal.’ ”
“Because grocer colloquialism said, ‘If ya make me a spry dish with what here I’m selling ya, I’ll make ye my bride.’ ”
“Which meant, ‘I’ll give you the best house deal next time you come into the shop.’ ”
Their laughs blended with the sound of the night, the scuff of their heels. Corina stopped, leaned on his shoulder, and popped off her shoes. “Ah, finally. They were killing me.”
“Thomas!” Stephen snapped with a flare. “Carry milady’s shoes to the motor car.”
“Oh good grief, I’m not going to ask the man to carry my shoes.”
Thomas held up his hand. “I don’t mind at all.”
Corina dropped the spike-heeled shoes to his palm. “Then thank you very much.”
With a light press of his hand on her back, Stephen urged her forward. “That night we dined at—”
“Ten Bluedon Street.”
“Precisely. Then we went for puffs.”
“Franklin’s has the best in the city, so much so they never close,” he said, leaning to see around her sheen of hair. “Come on, I mean, you’ve spent the better part of the night with me.”
“Yes, and I’m starting to be concerned for my reputation.”
He laughed. He liked who he was around her. Relaxed, himself, unaware of his princely stature. But yet, didn’t she make him want to be all he could be as a royal?
“So, a walk to Franklin’s for a box of puffs?”
“I don’t know . . .” She chewed on her bottom lip in contemplation, and he thought he might just slip her into his arms and taste her lips.
“Tell you what . . .” He retrieved his mobile. “I’ll ring your brother. Ask his permission.” He dialed as she laughed. “Carlos, chap, this is Stephen. Yes . . . your sister . . . doing splendid. We’re debating going for a box of puffs . . . at Franklin’s . . .” He glanced at her in the ambient light of 10 Bluedon Street and his heart slipped a little over love’s edge. “Might I have your blessing to coax her along? All right, sounds like a fair offer. A box of puffs, chocolate, for the brother.”
“Carlos, you’re a rotten big brother.” She held up her finger and mouthed “by one minute.”
“He says a man has to eat.”
“I miss him,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip, like that night so long ago.
Her soft confession speared his heart. Clearing his throat, he walked round her. “Puffs it is, then.” What was he doing?Let her go. Be done with it.Did he think he could dance around the truth forever? That he’d not impulsively spill it all?
No matter how he sliced it, Corina Del Rey came attached to her brother, and alive or dead, he would always be a part of their relationship.
Around the corner, Stephen stopped in front of the bright window of a small bake shop. The sign above the door read Franklin Bakery. A Brighton landmark.
“Shall we?” He opened the door. Thomas entered first, then Corina, followed by Stephen. Along the curb, the limousine slowed then stopped.
Stephen approached the counter as the proprietor came round the corner, dusting flour from his hands. “Prince Stephen.” The surprise in his voice displayed in his eyes. “Your Highness, welcome to Franklin’s. Lovely to see you. A box of puffs?”
“You know me well, Mr. Franklin. And a couple of boxes for my friends out there.” He tipped his head toward Thomas and the limo lads. “Add a round of teas.”
“Coming right up. Cinnamon?”
“The best kind. But toss in a few chocolate.” Stephen peeled several pound notes from his money clip and set them on the counter before turning to Corina. “Shall we choose a table?”
She chose one by the window, and when Thomas nodded his consent, Stephen led her over.
