He sighed, the lines in his face easing. “If you should go out, please ring. I’ll be there straightaway.”
One by one the staff exited the hall, beginning with Cranston and ending with Lucy, until Gus sat alone.
But he didn’t mind. The early March day was bright and blue with the sun falling through the windows. Taking his teacup to the row of double doors behind the dining table, he shoved them open and leaned against the frame. In the distance were the columns of the old portico. He and John used to try to scale those wide, round things only to fall back down to the cracked concrete foundation. The portico used to be a forward fortress, but the walls had crumbled. Now it was a nice place to see and look down on the world. Mum used to take afternoon tea there.
Overnight, most of the snow had melted, except for the stubborn drifts in the shade of the castle. Spring was desperately trying to make its mark on Dalholm.
The season of love. What was the old fable?
“…love blooms from the earth the same as flora and fauna. It perfumes the air… Expect a bit of fairy dust on your heart. Expect to fall in love.”
Gus sipped his tea. Despite Daffy’s accusation, he’d never been one for fairy tales. But love? He’d chased it hard. And it crushed him. But he’d not begrudge love to others. Like his brother. And Daffy. She deserved love. A passionate, devoted love. A man to cherish her. He stepped farther out and gazed toward Highcrest, barely catching sight of the lodge’s rooftop.
Did she stay?
“I see the snow is melting.” Daffy appeared next to him, her gentle presence as comforting as if she’d actually touched him. She’d freed her auburn tresses from their usual constraint, and the waves fell around her face and shoulders. She wore a thick pink jumper and jeans. “Please tell me there are scones.”
“I believe so.” He turned back inside and visually followed her to the buffet. “Lucy thought you’d slept in. I wondered if you’d stayed at the lodge.”
Her reach for a plate froze, then released. “No. I came back. Right after we saw you, as a matter of fact.” She looked back at him. “You seemed lost in thought when I came in.”
“Was I?” Gus settled at the table, finishing his tea with a large gulp. “Ready for spring, I think. And to get this royal ball business finalized.”
She eyed him as she sat in her usual spot. “Don’t let Coral Winthrop’s presence ruin your time with your brother, Gus. Years from now when you reminisce with him, or tell his children what his ball was like, you want to share good memories. Details. Not that you were lurking in a back room because a woman you loved two years ago danced a reel. She’s not worth it. No one is. If you ask me, she’d respect you more for moving on than for stopping your life because she made a very bad choice. In twenty years’ time you’ll be happily married with—”
“From what crystal ball are you getting all of this?”
“—children of your own. Coral Winthrop will be a distant memory. And you know I’m right. No crystal ball needed.”
“Have you forgotten the Blues are one of the most documented families in royal history? Being left at the blooming altar will quite literally go down in history. For crying out loud, you’ve details on a thousand-year-old chair.”
“Not a thousand years’ worth. Only about three hundred years.”
“In this digital age, everything will be recorded, videoed, photographed, and stored until the age to come and then some. And Coral didn’t make a bad choice, Daffy. Not for her.”
“Thenhowshe left. Very poor choice. She agrees. I did hear her say that onGood Morning New York.” She spread a dollop of clotted cream on her scone. “How’s the chair?”
Was it his imagination or was she becoming bolder, more forceful, in her opinions? About him?
“Fine. First phase done. Daffy, why do you care about me this way? About letting go and forgiveness?” Gus folded his napkin in half, then in quarters. “What’s it to you?”
“Because I hate to see anyone give another person power over them. And you’re my friend.”
For which he was entirely grateful. “I’ve forgiven her.”
“Have you?”
In a matter of minutes, Daffodil Caron had gone from lovely and demure to straight up irritating. “She has zero power over me.”
“So dragging your feet on ball decisions and declaring your intention to hide all evening is entirely based on…what? Past experiences? Your disdain for the waltz? Your refusal to reel?”
“What about you? Does Thomas have power over you? You didn’t look like a blushing bride-to-be last night. You looked bored.Trapped.” Yes, that was the word. He’d fished for it all night.Trapped.
Her expression hardened. “I am not bored, nor trapped. I was rather upset by the argument.”
“What was it about?”
“Nothing.”
