‘I can hardly believe you’re here. I wasn’t sure I’d get to see you again.’ He kept his voice casual, as if they were just friends, but his eyes glowed with intimacy. ‘How’s Annabel?’
‘She begged me to pack her into one of the queen’s trunks and put her on the train.’ Laughing, she felt herself unwind. ‘She’s staying with Betty and Miranda, so she’s probably busy trying on lipstick and high heels as we speak.’
‘She’ll miss seeing the horses here. We have a pregnant mare who’s about to give birth, and I’m sure she’d adore to see a wee foal.’ He shrugged. ‘We could go and see them tomorrow, if you’d like?’
As she was about to reply, Caroline spotted someone getting up to leave, glaring straight at them.
‘Oh no,’ she whispered.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s Miss Driscoll. She had her eye on becoming the next assistant dresser, so it was awkward when the position was given to me.’ She felt herself cower under Driscoll’s gaze. ‘If she sees us together, it’ll be all over the palace, and before I know it, she’ll have pieced it all together.’
But Angus just shrugged, his eyes on hers. ‘Let them think what they want. No one could possibly have any proof. In any case, I’m sure you earned your position, didn’t you? You’d be the best dresser there is.’ Buoyed by his faith in her, she remembered Frank’s disbelief that she’d been offered the job, while being annoyed that her new salary wouldn’t be enough.
Against all reason, Miss Driscoll wove around the other tables to theirs, taking one of the empty seats. ‘Caroline, what brings you here?’
As Caroline explained how she was there for two nights, Miss Driscoll appraised Angus. There was mud on his dark-brown trousers, flecks of soil on his fawn shirt, and his khaki coat hung from the back of his chair.
‘Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?’ she said, a wry smile on her thin lips.
Before Caroline could speak, Angus put a hand forward. ‘AngusBuchannon, head gardener. I was leading the team down in Buckingham Palace last month.’
‘Is that how you two know each other?’ Her eyes went from one to the other.
Pulling her chair away from his, Caroline stumbled over her words. ‘Yes, but we also... I mean, Mr Buchannon worked at the palace during the war, so he remembered me from then.’
Miss Driscoll smirked. ‘A little reunion, how lovely!’
‘And what brings you to Balmoral?’ Angus asked, leaning back in his chair as if all were fine with the world.
With a haughty look, she said, ‘There are extra duties, it being so close to the coronation.’
The conversation limped on until Miss Driscoll took her leave, although not without carefully eyeing Caroline as she pushed in her chair. ‘I’ll see you very soon, no doubt.’
Caroline watched her depart. ‘Let’s hope this doesn’t get back to the palace.’
But Angus was smiling at her, pushing his own chair out to leave. ‘You can’t let yourself worry about it. In any case, I have just the thing to cheer up your evening. Come along!’ He grinned, taking her coat from the back of her chair and holding it for her to put on. ‘We don’t want to be late.’
Outside the servants’ entrance, he led her to his car, an old Land Rover.
‘Where are we going?’ Caroline looked over her shoulder. ‘You don’t think Miss Driscoll will see us, do you?’
Holding the door open for her, Angus shook his head. ‘Just for this one night, forget about the palace. Enjoy yourself like you used to do.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I know the old you is still inside. Why don’t you let it out?’
‘You’re incorrigible, Angus Buchannon,’ she said, shaking her head and laughing as she climbed inside.
‘I promise to return you before eleven, so until then, we’ll forget about our worries and live in the moment.’
Soon they were weaving through the narrow streets in Ballater. Ashe pulled up to the pub, the lights and music spilled into the street, and a thrill of excitement rushed through Caroline.
They opened the door and jaunty Scottish music enticed them into the warmth; she let Angus grab her hand and pull her into the crowd.
‘We’re lucky,’ he said. ‘The local band’s practising for the cèilidh at the castle tomorrow night.’ He grinned. ‘And we’re the beneficiaries.’
The old pub was heaving. The tables had been cleared from a back area to make a dance floor, the old floorboards vibrating as twenty or thirty people jigged with gusto to the spirited sound. The band, dominated by an energetic old accordion player, was in full swing at one end, the crowd surrounding them clapping and dancing.
Without asking, Angus helped her off with her coat and pulled her into the throng.
