“Sir, you ought to go and tell her how you feel.”
A long, long silence while Tristan glared at Massey.
Then he released a sigh. He swiped his hands down his face.
“She hates me, Massey. She’s stubborn. It wouldn’t matter a damn what I said, even if I could get in the door.”
“Then maybe you ought toshowher instead.”
Tristan went still.
And then he stared at his lieutenant, a fierce hope and inspiration dawning. “Thank you, Massey.”
It was so heartfelt Massey blushed.
“No need to thank me, sir. Just go get your sweetheart.”
“Lady Derring. Mrs. Breedlove.”
Delilah and Angelique were in the drawing room at the top of the house, and Dot’s constrained delivery made them both look up sharply.
“Dot... what’s the matter? Dot, my dear, are you ill? Sit down at once.”
“I can’t... you must see...” Dot was white in the face, but she had a strange, beatific, saintly glow, as if she’d just been visited by a vision.
“Sheisgoing to faint. Quick, your vinaigrette, Angelique!”
“I’m not,” Dot insisted, sounding a little less ethereal and more indignant. “But I can’t say what I’m supposed to say because you won’t believe me.” And her voice took on that solemn, awestruck hush again. “You’ll think me a looby, so I cannot say it. You must come down to see for yourself.”
“Dot...” Delilah’s patience was not infinite, and this particular “Dot” contained a warning.
Dot took a breath. “The king is downstairs in the reception room.”
Angelique and Delilah exchanged worried glances.
“The king of... diamonds?” guessed Delilah gently.
One never knew with Dot.
“Or did you finally beat Mr. Delacorte at chess?” was Angelique’s tolerant guess.
“That would involve a queen, Mrs. Breedlove,” Dot said loftily. “And I swear upon my life, this is a king. Mr. Delacorte is in his room at present.”
They stared, two pairs of eyes fixed in puzzlement, and then the truth began to dawn.
“...of England,” Dot expounded.
And Delilah thought she understood. She stood bolt upright so quickly her mending tumbled from her lap.
“A lot of soldiers, too,” Dot added with relish.
Angelique stood more slowly, and straightened out her skirts.
“He said”—and Dot tipped her head back, as if attempting to recall the words verbatim—“a man he holds in high esteem told him The Grand Palace on the Thames was tolerable.”
Angelique and Delilah stared at her.
“I already started the tea,” Dot said matter-of-factly. “I’ll bring it in.”