Her father’s old blue motor was probably no match for Dad’s Aston Martin. Why not chase her down? Go for it. Gus exhaled, cleared his head and shook the slimy ropes of past rejection from his mind, his body, his soul.
“I heard you wanted to see me.”
Gus swerved round to see Emmanuel approaching, his winter anorak exchanged for a brightly colored, thick wool sweater. “Where’ve you been?”
He’d stopped wondering how the man retained access to the castle grounds.
“Busy. Tending business.”
“The chair was stolen. I wondered if you’d taken it.”
“If I wanted to take it, I would’ve long ago. I’m not a thief, Gus.”
“I know. Hemstead, my former protection officer, went to the workshop to see what I was up to, broke the lock, saw the chair, and took it to Perrigwynn.”
“Then the matter is resolved.” Emmanuel stood next to Gus and gazed toward the horizon. “What do you think, rain or shine?”
Knowing what he knew? “Rain. A big, fat blooming storm.”
“I’ll go with sunshine.” Emmanuel pointed toward the gold ring around the blue clouds. “If not today, after the storm.”
“That’s like picking both teams to win.” Gus laughed and faced the big man. “Why did you help me? With the chair? You didn’t even quote me a price. I don’t know how much I owe you.”
“Nothing. I’m your friend.”
“A relatively new friend.”
Emmanuel cut him a sideways glance. “Still, my friend.”
“Yet I can’t even find you without Ernst putting out ‘the word.’”
“Yes, you can.” Emmanuel touched Gus’s chest. Just over his heart. “If you ask. Don’t you know?” With a final glance, the carpenter started down the portico’s tall stone stairs. “I’ve some folks to see at the Belly of the Beast. See you around, Prince Gus.”
“What do you mean, you’re in my heart? If I ask what? I don’t understand.”
“You will.” Emmanuel carried on down the pebble-and-stone concrete poured path to the main gate and out to Centre Street. “Tell Coral I said hi.”
“What? Coral? Emmanuel, come back.”
The man was mad. Loony. But the skitter of chill down Gus’s arm gave him pause.Emmanuel.He’d look up the name after he chased down Daffy. He’d just arrived in the garage when John texted.
Mum wants to talk to us. Come now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Daffy
Nothing felt right. Not the scenic three-hour drive back from Dalholm. Not her beloved apartment with its picturesque scene of a modern yet ancient Port Fressa wrapped in the lights of Clemency Avenue.
Everywhere she looked, she saw Gus. Falling over the secondhand chair as they lost themselves in a kiss. The couch where’d they’d snuggled and talked until falling asleep in one another’s arms. The pillow which still held his scent. If she sat still long enough, she could almost catch the tones of his laugh…
Now it was all shaded with the shame of the secret, anger, and sadness.
Gus had not come after her as she exited Hadsby. Oh how she’d wanted him to chase her down the Grand Stairs and scoop her into his arms, but such fantasies were for her diary, herNonexistentLife with the Prince.
She didn’t blame him. His first loyalty was to his family.
She tried to watch a show, but Saturday afternoon television wasn’t all that entertaining. Or it could’ve been her restlessness—which made everything darker. Sadder. And LTV-1 channel kept advertising Leslie Ann Parker’s Sunday night documentary.
