Flummoxed as to what to do, she found herself eyeing the plumped white pillows with longing. Since the room seemed empty, no one would know if she took a much-needed nap, would they?
‘Maybe just a few minutes,’ she murmured to herself as she lay down. It was almost the end of her workday, after all, and she needed her energy for another evening of trailing the West End for singing jobs.
The pillow was as soft as a cloud, and before long, she was drifting off to sleep.
She didn’t know how long she’d been dozing, but the next thing she knew, an upper-class man’s voice awoke her.
‘Now, what do we have here?’
Abruptly, she sat up, grappling to pin her hair. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I only wanted a small rest. You see it’s these early mornings...’ As she babbled, she tried to get up, realizing that her skirt was twisted around her, and not only that, it had ridden up to show her thighs.
Reddening, she looked up to see the man looking at them, an amused smile on his face as he sat beside her on the bed.
‘Don’t leave!’ he said softly, and she realized it was the man from the corridor on her first day. In his late twenties, his dark eyes slanted down at the edges, like a sad dog in need of some tenderness. Yet behind his modesty and languidness, he had the relaxed style of a true gentleman. ‘You look so very comfortable there, like Sleeping Beauty.’ His voice slurred lazily, and a small hiccough confirmed her suspicion that he was drunk. Then he flopped down on the bed beside her. ‘In any case, we’ve only just met.’
But she was already scampering up, straightening her skirt, dartingtowards the door. ‘I’m here to collect the laundry. You won’t tell anyone that I was taking a nap, will you?’
At this he got back up and walked across the room to her. ‘Not if you stay and keep me company for a while. You see, I’ve had the most appalling afternoon.’
‘But the laundry?’
‘I promise to get it, provided you stay.’ He reached for her hand.
She let him guide her to the sofa, and then he pulled a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet, two small whisky tumblers in his other hand. He suddenly seemed tall and muscular, and in spite of the whiff of alcohol, she was more than aware of the warm, intoxicating scent of him.
‘Join me?’ he said, splashing a little into both glasses and handing one to her.
‘I shouldn’t, not at work,’ she said, unsure. But as he pressed her to try a little, she took a sip, just about stopping herself from spitting it back out immediately. The stuff stung like acid, burning as it went down her throat. She choked, trying to catch her breath, and he patted her back, laughing.
‘You really are just as innocent as you look, aren’t you?’ He took the tumbler away from her. ‘Well, no more of that for you. We’ll need to look after you a bit better.’ He sat down beside her. ‘Why don’t you tell me your name, my Sleeping Beauty?’
‘I’m Lucy, Lucy Jones.’
‘And you must call me Richard. Tell me, where do you come from, Lucy Jones?’
‘I come from Cornwall, but I now live in Camden.’
‘Well, Lucy Jones from Cornwall and now Camden, I need to tell you about my abysmal afternoon.’ He proceeded to give her a blow-by-blow account of his lunch event, which entailed a lengthy meal in a private club. ‘I’m the organizer, you see. If anything goes wrong, everyone blames me.’
Tentatively she asked, ‘Did anything go wrong?’
‘Indeed it did!’ he replied, adamant in his drunkenness. ‘They’re accusing me of letting the speaker ramble on far too much about his fishing expedition in Canada – I know I should have stopped him whenhe started the slideshow. And then I’d sat him beside Lord Halford, having forgotten about his sister and that incident last year.’ He began counting off his fingers. ‘We ran out of the best port and had to make do with some nonvintage rubbish, which never bodes well. And then there weren’t enough waitresses.’ He hung his head comically. ‘It was lined up to be a sensational lunch, but I confess that it – and therefore I – was found wanting.’
She couldn’t help laughing. ‘They can’t blame you for all of those things. It isn’t fair!’ How vulnerable he seemed, how kind. ‘They’re taking advantage of your good nature.’
His eyes met hers. ‘That’s precisely what I said!’ He edged closer to her. ‘I knew you’d see my point. I just wish you could tell them not to have me fired. I don’t want to leave the palace.’ He grasped her hand. ‘Especially as I’ve only just met you.’
His hand was warm and soft. There was a childish simplicity to the gesture, as if he needed her care. And just as she was wondering how she could help him, he said, ‘Everything’s going to change now that I’ve woken you up from your deepest slumber, Sleeping Beauty. You’re the angel who’s been sent to make me into a better person.’
He looked so contrite, his sad eyes pleading with her, that she couldn’t help but laugh again. ‘Are you in need of becoming a better person?’
‘All I need is a good woman.’ As if remembering something, he pulled his hands away and buried his face in them. ‘But now they’re roping me into all kinds of nonsense with this coronation. There’s no end of dull meetings. But I suppose it’s better than being sent back to the sticks.’
‘The sticks?’ What was he talking about?
‘Oh, my father’s estate in the country. He loathes me, and now that Mama’s gone, I just don’t fit in anymore.’
‘You poor thing,’ she murmured, taking his hand back, warming it.
