“I don’t think you forget, sir,” Hemstead said. “I think you mean to ditch me.”
Gus paused on the stairs. “In all honesty, yes. I rather liked not having anyone off my flank while in Florida.”
“A dangerous move then, and even more so now.”
“Why? Does the Crown have enemies?” Gus started down, inhaling the scent of warm scones.
“Everyone has enemies. Especially those in power.”
“Rather grim look on life, Hem.”
“I’ve been a protection officer for fifteen years, and I assure you that people like you have enemies.” Hemstead followed Gus through the Grand Foyer, through the formal parlor, and around the hand-carved column to the downstairs doorway. “I understand you’re comfortable in Dalholm. People know you and, for the most part, have let you be. But that’s precisely when things go wrong. The hamlet has changed, sir. The New Hamlet is full of career-minded men and women wanting to make their mark. Greed has no gender, race, or creed. I am responsible for your safety. The protocol seems simple. Inform me when you want to take an excursion and I’ll be ready in a moment.”
“I will try.” Gus scanned the servants’ hall for Daffy, but her usual place at the table was empty. Did she stay with Thomas? Which was really none of his business, but if anyone asked, she didn’t look or act like a woman in love.
In the hall, Cranston sat at the head of the table, reading his paper, along with two hall boys, the two groomers, one maid, and one footman—not Miles—and Lucy.
“Good morning.” The staff stood as Gus made his way to the buffet. “Tell me there are plenty of scones left.”
“Your Royal Highness,” Cranston said. “Are you sure you want to continue dining with us? It’s nothing to set a place in the Grand Dining Hall. I think the queen would prefer it.”
Gus found the scones. “I, however, would not.”
Filling his plate and pouring a cup of tea with plenty of cream, he chose a place across from Lucy.
“How are you?” He snapped open a starched cotton napkin.
She choked and swallowed. “G-good, Your Highness. And you?”
“Have you seen Ms. Caron?”
“This being her day off, she may have slept in.”
“Something I wish I’d done.”
Lucy smiled. “I’m an early riser, me. Can’t sleep in. My mum never let us linger much past eight, even on holidays.”
“Now that I think of it, neither did mine.” Gus layered his scone with clotted cream and took a hearty bite.
“Your mum, the queen, woke you up in the morning?”
“Not always, but yes, quite often. She wanted us up and about, living life. ‘You can sleep when you’re dead,’ she said.”
“Goodness. That’s exactly what my mum said.” Lucy sat back, her eyes wide, a small giggle escaping. “She’ll go bonkers when I tell her the queen said the same thing.”
“Mums, eh?”
“Yes,” Lucy said with an easy laugh. “Mums.”
Hemstead sat two places down with a cup of tea and a plate of eggs and bacon. “What are your plans today, sir? With Stern gone to see his sister, you’ve no royal duties.”
“I’ve a busy week ahead. I think I’ll have a quiet day in my apartment. Maybe read or catch up on a show or two. I never watched telly in Florida.”
“Why would you? You had the sun and the beach.” Lucy seemed more relaxed with him now that their mums had something in common.
Hemstead brooded for a moment, his heavy brows creased. “About earlier, sir, I apologize for my tone. For scolding you.”
“You’re doing your job. Think nothing of it.”
