As they walked, Gus tucked his hands into his pockets, resisting the urge to reach for her. Thisfeelingwas getting a bit out of hand. But he’d get over the newness of her in a few days. Over the infatuation. In fact, maybe this meant he was more healed up than he realized.
“We’re not very mushy, Thomas and me,” she said through the quiet. “More practical. Especially him. But we’re a good match.”
They’d just arrived at the castle’s front steps—no running through the woods and climbing secret stairwells to get back in—when she faced him.
“What happened?” Her question was straightforward. “Why do you let the press go on and on about how this amazing woman left you? Howtwoamazing women dumped you. Why didn’t you share your side of the story rather than letting the press tell theirs? Why did Coral leave?”
“Whoa, lass, there’s about a thousand details in those few questions. First, with the press, what would I say?” He moved around her for the high, granite steps. “I didn’t want to slam either Coral or Robbi, and until a few months ago, I wasn’t sure their assessment of me wasn’t wrong.”
“Of course they’re wrong. Gus, tell them your side—the truth. In Florida, you said you wanted to be in command of your story. To tell it on your terms. Choose someone and tell it.”
“I can’t, Daffy. Robbi, yes. We knew we weren’t right for one another. We’d rushed in. But Coral?” Talking about it dug up some residual anger. And he’d been feeling so free. Gus jogged up the steps and then swung around so fast he nearly knocked Daffy back. “I can’t, Daffy, because I don’t know why she left. I blooming don’t know.”
Chapter Twelve
Daffy
By Friday evening, ten of the twenty-five gowns graced the Grand Gallery, their elegant trains flowing over the carpet like luminous rivers of ethereal dust across a red moon.
Lucy looked up from the hem she tacked into place, peeking through strands of her sandy-blonde hair falling from random hair clips.
“Done.” She timbered to one side, tried to catch herself, and then crashed to the floor. “Every muscle in my neck is knotted. I need a massage. I hate to say it, Daff, but these gowns were not as cared for as we were led to believe. Two of them had stains—bad ones. The legendary Ilsa, grand dame of royal wedding gowns, was a fraud.”
“Let’s keep the truth to ourselves. Ilsa served the crown for fifty years.” Upon inspection, each gown had something to be repaired or cleaned. A torn corner of lace. Missing pearl buttons. Scuff marks on some trains caused by careless tourists.
The veil for theQueen Ambrosiawas missing. Daffy had had to call the office and sweet-talk Goody into searching for it. Of course, Goody told Mum, who called straightaway and wanted to know why Daffy hadn’t noticed the missing inventory before she left.
“I know you don’t mean it, Mum, but it sounds as if you’re accusing me.”
“Well…” Mum sighed. “I suppose I am. But I know you’ll sort it out. No worries.”
Easy for her to say.No worries indeed. And she still felt more like a daughter than a staff member. They’d work it out. Just took time. The next day Goody found the veil and drove it up Friday morning, then checked into the ski lodge for the weekend.
But Daffy wasn’t here on vacation. She had a job to do, even if she struggled with wanting to live up to Mum’s expectations—and fearing she wasn’t.
Then there was the dread of the chair. She’d not seen much of Gus since Tuesday evening. He’d texted her one night from a local youth symphony concert.
Help!He’d added a funny smiley face.The planner wants to use them for the ball. Says it will bring a sense of heart and community. While I’m very proud of the youngsters’ accomplishments, and am a fan of community, they are not quite up to the task of a royal wedding ball.
The first chairviolinist shot her bow over her instrument and into the eye of the cello chap behind her. I am not kidding. P.S. Still no word from Ernst.
Last night she considered his youth symphony dilemma and texted a suggestion to place various quartets or quintets about the castle Friday night before the Saturday ball.
You’re a genius.
“Daffy, I can book in at Spa Delight at eleven tomorrow. For an hour.” Lucy jumped to her feet. “Want to come? Please say we’re not working. I could use a break.”
“A spa day? You go ahead. I might go to Port Fressa for the weekend, see Thomas, and water my roses. I’m sure Ella forgot.”
She’d also been pondering Gus’s questions about her relationship with Thomas. Why she’d picked him. Did she love him?
Her answer sounded like she was choosing a good motor, not a husband. Not the man she loved so deeply she couldn’t imagine her life without him. But why get lost in heady romance? More than one of her friends had crashed and burned on the island ofHe’s the Love of My Life.
“Are you going to start wedding planning?” Lucy raised Daffy’s left hand so that her engagement ring glinted in the light. “Are you excited? Have you looked at any wedding dresses? Besides these?”
“Haven’t even thought about it.” Which made an odd confession. “We probably should fix the date first.”
“You’re so fortunate, Daffy. I’ve only met Thomas a few times, but he seems fantastic. Good-looking, successful, funny. Has that dimple in his chin.” She laughed behind her hand. “WhenFinance Todayput him on the cover, I saved it. Hung it in my office. Don’t be mad.”
