“She broke your heart?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Any chance of reconciliation?”
“No.”He started walking again.“She died.”
“Goodness, Michael.I’m sorry.I’m nosy.My dad tells me all the time.I think everyone’s my friend the moment we meet.Not close friends, but—”
“Lady Royal.”His sharp reply hit the dark.“If I didn’t want to speak of her, I’d have said so.She died eighteen months ago.Everyone knows.Even the queen.I feared my grief over her caused me to miss the foul play round Prince John at the North Sea Island Nations’ Summit.Yet work…work kept me sane.”
“How’d she die?”Scottie asked softly.
“She contracted an infection that turned into sepsis.She hid it from me, from her family, tried to manage on her own.By the time we caught on, it was too late.”
“I’m so sorry, Michael.”She was moved by his composure and resisted the urge to ask more questions.His words seemed to slice open his heart so that he could speak as he did.“At least you’ve known a great love.More than I’ve known.”
He glanced at her.“You’ve never been in love?”
“Not really.I danced with the idea, but it turns out my one candidate was still in love with his ex-wife.Which is partly why I’m here.I called Kate the night he told me.She invited me over for the spring season.”
“You were willing to leave O’Shay Shirts over a man?”
“No.Cap Henderson merely shoved me over the edge.”She sighed softly.“When I first learned about Kate, I resisted.I had a life.Didn’t need a mum at thirty-five.A year later she sent John after me.Then she got sick.I came to see her and…for the first time in my life, I had a mother.I thought I could carry on as usual and visit Kate at Christmas, maybe in the summer.But this past year, I’ve been restless.I’ve missed her.Missed John and Gemma, Gus and Daffy.My nieces and nephew.”
“You’re lucky to have a mum you want to spend time with.Not everyone’s so blessed.”
“That’s a cloaked confession.You don’t have a mum you want to spend time with?”
“As I said”—His voice cooled slightly—“not everyone’s so blessed.”He hunched his shoulders, perhaps from the cold, perhaps from further probing.“We should go in.It’s late, and I need to report the quay incident.”
“Blame it all on me, Michael.Please.”
He said nothing, but the faint gleam of his smile suggested he planned to do exactly that.
At the main door, he entered the code and held it open, stopping her at the threshold.“Tell me of your secret escape.”
“No can do.”
“Lady Royal, the HMSD must know of any possible breach in our—”
“There’s no breach.Just a hidden door.You can’t get in from the outside.”
“But you can leave from the inside?”
“Goodnight, Michael Cross.”She stepped into the Grand Foyer.“I suppose social media will be buzzing with videos about tonight.”
“Yes, so be prepared.Lady Royal, where is the passageway?”
“I don’t check social media.Waste of time, thief of life.Tell me if I need to know anything.”She’d once followed royal accounts after embracing her heritage, but a year of snide commentary—down to criticizing the way she held her fork—had cured her.“Michael, can we find the man who held my legs?And I’d love to meet the woman and her little girl.Invite them to dinner, maybe?”
“I’ll make inquiries.”
At that, they said goodnight.With his curiosity about the passageway on his august face, he turned down the corridor and disappeared around the stairs.
Scottie climbed to the Grand Gallery, the hush of the castle pressing close.Her body was worn from the chaos on the quay, her mind replaying the cries, the pressure of the woman’s grip still on her arm.But beneath the exhaustion, something else lingered.
The presence of Michael Cross.
