The last delegates’ dinner at the castle was before Lennox’s assassination. Today feels like it did back then; hustle and movement, smells from the kitchen, someone laughing, the clanging of pots.
Blair is somewhere getting ready, Franklyn fussing like an overbearing mother, while Blair’s mother taste tests the range of desserts that have been prepared. The atmosphere is different to how it has been in last two months; there’s a sense of a future and the smell of cinnamon and orange is making everyone think of Christmas.
“The Prime Minister has arrived. He’s brought a guest.” Micky tells me in a low voice as he passes me in a corridor.
“Nice of him to give us the head’s up for security.”
Micky raises his brows. “The security on her’s been done many times before.”
“Elise?”
“Got it in one.”
“Does Blair know?”
“Not sure. Haven’t heard anything. But Elise isn’t sharing Goldsmith’s room – they requested she had a separate one.”
“An attempt to be sensitive.”
“Or someone’s advised them. Isaac. Probably. The cousins are coming.”
I shake my head. There had been a debate among Blair’s advisory team as to whether to include them or not, but it all came back to the same theory. Keep your enemies close.
“It was a no brainer they’d accept the invitation. I think both are hoping for prominent positions in Blair’s government so they’ll hopefully be on best behaviour.” Micky wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know already.
“But you don’t trust them?”
“I don’t fucking trust anybody.” His look suggests that includes me.
I keep my poker face fixed. He’s every fucking right to not trust me. I know too much and I can’t keep a promise.
“Probably for the best.”
Micky studies me, doesn’t smile. He’s looking better than he has done for years and I’ve even heard a rumour that he’s got a steady partner, although I need to see it to believe it.
“You’re keeping an eye on the cousins.”
I nod. Micky’s in charge for tonight. He’s been liaising with security from the six different countries that are represented while I’ve been forward planning Blair’s engagements which are becoming fewer now that she’s taking more of a role with the government.
One she’s not at peace with.
I’m in the corridor outside the main reception room where a pianist is playing and waiters are serving cocktails and canapes when Blair comes down the wide staircase.
For a moment, all the world pauses.
She’s not wearing her usual ballgown. Her hair’s down, straight and blonde and long, hanging most of the way down her back. She’s wearing black, a short fitted black dress that clings to every curve and stops just above her knee, but the arms of the dress are to her wrist.
There’s no crown or tiara, nothing to mark her as the future monarch except the way she carries herself.
She stops when she gets to me and stands close.
“Is everything okay?”
I nod, inhaling her perfume. “Yes. Elise is here with Goldsmith.”
“I heard. It’s fine.” Her hand comes up and she places her palm on the front of my suit jacket.
My breath catches in my throat.
