It wasn’t until she returned home, to her world, that she’d begun in earnest to scrub that man out of her hair. Her mind. Her heart.
“He’s on assignment for the queen and his brother.” Mum gave her a quick glance. “Shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”
“Of course not.” Daffy fitted the lid on theDauphine and stood back while Lucy sealed it. “Hadsby’s a big place, and the staff quarters are on the opposite side of the royal apartments. I doubt I’ll see him.”
“Good.” Mum glanced at her watch. “I’m late. I’ll see you later. Good work, ladies. Oh, Daff, I hear you’re meeting your mates at Pub Clemency tonight.”
“How’d you hear?”
Mum hesitated then fired out, “Ella.”
“Naturally. It’s not our usual Friday night but Thomas insisted. Everyone else seemed keen. To be honest, I think I’ll cancel. I’m still worn out from the trip home.”
“Go.” Mum nodded as if the pub waited outside. “Show off your tan. I’d let you take a personal day tomorrow, but you’ve a lot to do.”
“True.” Daffy sighed and looked around the room. “But the more I think about it, I’m going to beg off. I’d rather rest for the week ahead.”
“Don’t, love. Thomas missed you. You can always make it an early night. What do you say, Lucy?”
“I’m always game for a night out with my mates.”
“Exactly.” Mum’s jolly laugh escorted her to the door. “Daff, call me after the pub if you want.”
“Why would I call? I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I don’t know—just if you want.”
Chapter Seven
Daffy
Ten of the gowns were boxed and ready to ship. Ten more tomorrow and then the final few on Wednesday. Followed by packing and planning for staging, Daffy would just make her Friday morning train time.
However, she was an hour late for her date with her friends at Pub Clemency. Thomas texted, as well as Ella and Leslie Ann.
Are you coming?
Where are you?
Love, I’ve saved you a seat.
She needed to go home first and change. She wasn’t allowed to wear her RT uniform to a pub. Plus she was exhausted, and hot from working in a windowless room all day. And then the footmen assigned to carry down the crates forgot so that she had to run all over to find them.
All it took was a quick shower to renew her spirits. She changed into jeans and trainers, and breezed into Pub Clemency—established 1742—hungry and eager to see everyone.
The Clemency District marked the cultural crossroads of Port Fressa. One block south, on Clemency Street, was the home of the media. A hundred years ago there were no less than five newspapers competing for the nation’s, if not the world’s, attention.
Now there were two, along with three tabloids, four television stations, and, in one building, the north European offices of Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. Half of Port Fressa expected that place to implode at any moment.
North of the district was the Royal Plaza. Over three square kilometers of royal offices and dwellings, including Perrigwynn Palace and the Chambers Office. Just north of the Royal Plaza was Republic Boulevard, home of the Royal Republic Parliament and the Supreme Court.
To the west sat the financial district, where Thomas worked. Modern office structures were mixed in with the enormous, old world mansions, creating a tableau of the past and the future.
To the east were the brownstones, walk-up flats, and simple homes of the staff and servants who tended the rich, the royal, and the elected.
This was Daffy’s world. Where she grew up in a three-bedroom, two-bath home on good ole Waverly Street, a mere stone’s throw from Perrigwynn.
As much as she loved Florida, this was home. As she made her way around the tables, Thomas greeted her halfway.
