“We can’t keep meeting like this,” she said.
“I know. It almost feels like you’re stalking me,” Romeo replied, forcing his voice to sound cheerful and not reflect how uneasy he felt inside.
Evie laughed, and it was truly the most joyous sound he’d heard in a while. “Maybe I am, Rome. Maybe I’m snooping on you,” she said, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.
“Ever the detective,” he replied with a small smile.
Evie glanced down at his hands, all tangled in yarn.
“Why are you knitting a sock?” she asked.
“It’s not a sock, it’s a scarf,” he said.
She frowned, tilting her head. “No offense, but it looks a bit too small and a bit too sock-shaped to be a scarf.”
“First of all, this isnotsock-shaped. It is a perfectly respectable rectangle. Two, just because my scarf does not conform to societal standards of scarves, does not make it any less of a suitable scarf,” he said.
“I see your point… but logistically, who would this tiny ‘scarf’—if we’re calling it that—be for? Barbie?”
“No, it’s for Pulitzer.”
Evie raised an eyebrow. “Who on earth isPulitzer?”
“My pet pig. Or rather the family’s pet pig… but I’m the one that feeds her most days.”
Evie sat up, amusement circling her features as she analyzed his face for any sign of humor. “Wait, you guysactuallyhave a pet pig?” she asked.
Romeo nodded. “Yes. A Royal Dandie—”
“And her name is Pulitzer?” Evie asked, her face still housing shock.
“Well, her full government name is actually the Notorious P.I.G.—but wecall her Pulitzer for short. She’s turning one on Tuesday, so I thought I’d knit her a birthday present,” he said, holding the scarf up.
Evie’s mouth formed an O and then she was staring at the “scarf” with a look of bewilderment. “I see… I have another question: Do youlikeyour pig, Romeo?”
Romeo narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll have you know that Litzy is a very happy pig.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Of course I like her!” he said.
“I believe you. But I still feel bad for that poor pig,” Evie said, smiling. She then looked up at the grandfather clock. “I wonder what’s taking so long? I thought the brunch was meant to start at eleven and it’s almost twelve. I skipped breakfast for this.”
“I’m not sure,” Romeo said, ignoring the itch in his nose. He wasn’t completely lying; he had no idea where the officers were now or what they were planning next. And the fact that he did not know was not helping the dread he felt building inside.
“And why have they blocked off some of the halls and the staircase? Is there some surprise awaiting us in the banqueting hall or something?” Evie asked, peering around with suspicion.
Romeo didn’t say anything. What would he even say?Yes, there is a surprise, just not the kind anyone would want or expect.
“I’m going to see if my mom’s in the kitchen. Do you want anything?” Evie pushed herself up from the chair.
For the first time, Romeo couldn’t imagine he’d feel any sort of appetite for a while. He shook his head. “I had a big breakfast,” he lied. He’d barely touched it.
“Well, I wish you the best of luck with that scarf. Hopefully the brunch starts before I get back,” Evie said.
“Hopefully,” Romeo replied, despite knowing there was no hope here at all.“How’re you going to get to the kitchen? I’m pretty sure that section of the house is blocked off.”
“You underestimate me greatly, Romeo Button,” Evie said, and then held up a staff pass she had hidden in her pockets. “Perks of being the child of ‘the help,’ ” she said, grinning as she gave him a subtle wave and then gracefully traipsed away. Her dancer’s feet helped her slip out of the drawing room undetected, right past a Manor security guard who was stationed in an inconspicuous corner and thankfully had his back turned to her.
