As I packed, I thought about Elias and wondered if I should say anything to him. I opted against it. He wasn’t back from Versailles anyway. For all I knew, he was spending the day with one of the princesses he’d soon marry. Besides that, we’d agreed on one night and one night we had. One night that conjured memories of our first time and made me wish like hell I hadn’t agreed to anything at all, but it was what it was. Even if we both wanted things to progress and see where this went, nothing could happen. Like my mother said, I was just a commoner to them. Like Etienne said, the future could hold nothing for us. I needed to do a better job at listening to those who loved me and wanted what was best for me. I’d regroup in London, come back and go to the queen’s residence on Sunday for dinner, and by then I’d have put all of this behind me.
Nothing had changed in London. Not that I’d expected it to. As I took my keys out of my pocket and walked toward my flat, I looked at the park across the street and smiled at the sight of the elderly couple sharing the bench there, the way they often were. I lived in a vintage townhome, in a coveted street in Kensington, which I was renting courtesy of one of my father’s good friends. Dad lived here for a short time when he was serving as an ambassador to France here in London. He’d kept the job for four years before moving back to Paris, but his contacts remained, and when I decided to move here, he was able to secure the very same townhouse I’d fallen in love with as a teenager. It was fancy and big, way too big for me, but Joss had moved into one of the bedrooms, so that helped. When I moved here after graduating college, I’d promised my father I’d pay the rent as soon as my business took off, and had since made good on my promise. Joss was still in France, so as I reached the door, I knew I’d find the place empty. I was turning to unlock the front door when I heard the door of the townhouse next door squeak open and saw Mrs. Parsons.
“You’re back.” She eyed me up and down. “You look rumpled.”
“I slept on the train,” I said, as if that would explain the state I was in.
Truth was, I did look rumpled. I’d barely slept, so I was sure there were bags under my eyes. My hair was a mess in a bun that I hadn’t taken the time to fix. I hadn’t ironed my linen coat and I was sure the buttons on my blouse were mismatched. I never looked rumpled. At least not in public, so Mrs. Parsons was right to be concerned.
“Come inside for tea,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“I should set my bags down,” I said, arguing anyway.
“I’ll let you get settled then. Tea tomorrow at noon.”
“Tomorrow at noon.” I smiled and waited for her to disappear into her flat before going into mine.
Once inside, I began to shed my clothes, sliding off my shoes first before moving onto my scarf and jacket. I walked up to the pile of letters at the edge of my counter and leafed through them, sorting the bills from the trash, and setting aside invitations I’d received. Some of the letters were for Joss, so I set those in a separate pile altogether. Taking the bills and invitations with me, I walked over to each of the windows on this floor and pulled open the curtains, letting the midday sun wash over the space. I would go downstairs and upstairs later. For now, I wanted to pay my bills, do my laundry, and take a nap.
My phone woke me up. I reached for it blindly and answered it upon seeing Mrs. Meyers’ number on the screen.
“Is everything okay?” I said as a greeting.
“No, everything is not okay. That man is insufferable and I will not deliver any more baskets.”
“What?” I sat up in bed, looking outside. It was dark out. I must have slept all day. “What did he say?”
“He would not accept the basket. He said everything was wrong. I followed every single instruction you gave me.” Her voice was a shrill. I cringed.
“I am so sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize on his behalf. I just wanted to let you know that I’m passing the task along to Lucy Walters. Maybe she’ll fare better with him. After all, they’re well acquainted.”
“Well acquainted?” I frowned. “Isn’t Lucy the pub owner’s daughter?”
“Well acquainted,” Mrs. Meyers repeated. “Meaning, they’ve had relations.”
“Oh.” My heart dropped. “Oh.”