Gus appeared in the servants’ hall doorway just as they sat down. “May I join you?”
A chorus of chairs scraped over stone as everyone stood. Cranston made a place for him at the end of the table.
“We eat buffet style, sir.”
“I’m used to eating my dinner while standing in a kitchen.” Gus shot a look toward Daffy. She gave him a low smile. “This is rather nice.”
His arrival shifted the atmosphere of the room. Instead of talking in pocket conversations or leaning in as someone told the whole table a story, the staff ate in pleasant silence broken only by a football inquiry or how it was already the first of March and everyone longed for spring.
From his seat, Gus listened, laughed, predicted Dalholm would make it to the FA Cup, and declared the snow was rather refreshing.
“Didn’t see any of this in Florida.”
“I’d take that any day, sir.” This from Miles, the footman, who seemed rather comfortable with the prince.
While working on the dresses, Daffy had put theKing Titusout of her mind. Unboxing royal wedding gowns, draping them over dress forms, and inspecting them for repairs was almost calming. But when she thought of what was wrapped on the bottom of her dressing room floor, she felt ill.
Gus finished his dinner rather quickly and left the dining hall. Daffy followed a few minutes later. As she started up the stairs, she heard Cranston bragging about carrying theKing Titusdown to the Queen’s Library and she lost her battle with anxiety. The nasty beggar had moved in and settled down with a good book.
She’d not sleep a wink if worry lingered. It could be days before the chair was repaired and back in the library—if she and Gus even managed to accomplish such an impossible task. Hearing Cranston boast, she realized she and Gus needed a plan to keep Cranston out of the library.
To meet Gus, Daffy changed into jeans, a warm jumper, and her lined boots. A few minutes before nine, she grabbed her coat and scarf from the dressing room and eyed the corner to make sure the chair was still there. Then she hurried to the royal wing of the castle.
Prince Gus opened the door before she knocked. “This way.” He led her down a side corridor where a single bookshelf sat against the wall. Gus pulled on a dark spine and the shelf snapped open.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Gus took her hand as they started down a narrow, spiraling staircase.
“What is this?” The stone space was dark and cold, held together by rugged beams.
“The secret passageway, of course. Every castle has one. Didn’t John and I ever show you?”
“I’d have remembered this.”
Didn’t John and I…Gus spoke as if she were one ofthem. Maybe in his mind, she was, at least when she was a girl. But she wasnotone of them. Which was whyMy Life with the Princehad no ending.
Launching from the last step, Gus shoved open a plain, slab door and together they stepped into the falling, twisting snow.
“Blimey, it’s a blizzard.” He kicked through the drifts, cutting a path toward the woods.
“Gus, where’s Hemstead?”
He stopped short. “Blast, I keep forgetting him.”
“Shouldn’t you text him? Tell him to come?”
He shook his head. “Do we want him on this mission? If I’m lucky, he won’t check on me. I told him I was going to turn in early. Besides, I have you to watch my back.”
Did she? He made her sound like an intimate friend, but they barely knew each other as adults.
“Who will watch mine? I don’t even know where we’re going.”
Gus pulled up, turning to her, the white lights of the grounds’ lamps haloing his face. His breath billowed when he spoke.
“I will have your back.” His breath mingled with hers. “You’ve got mine.”
“Are you sure you trust me after Florida?”
