Why did he say that? Being a concierge for some American tourists—even if they were the guests of the Duke and Duchess—wasn’t his job.

She smiled at him and shook her head.

Ah. He did it so she’d smile at him again. He must have lost his mind. A fifty-two-year-old man and he was acting like a teenager with a crush.

“That’s so nice of you to offer, but you don’t have to do that. Plus, I’m only here for about a week—we’re here at Sandringham through Christmas, then Maddie and I are spending a few days in London before we fly home.”

“What are you planning to do in London?” he asked.

She laughed.

“I’ve honestly left all of the planning to Maddie, and I barely know anything about London, so it’ll all be fresh and exciting for me. She did say we’re staying at a very fancy hotel, which should be fun.”

That smile was still on her face. It made him want London to be perfect for her.

“Well, please do ask if you have questions about anything; I’d be happy to help. And now, welcome to Sandringham House.” They walked under the big archway in the drive and through the wide front doors. He nodded at the footmen who opened the doors for them. “I usually go in and out one of the side doors, but I decided you needed the full experience for your first time here.”

She stopped in the entryway with a look of awe on her face.

“Wow.” She turned around in a circle, and he turned with her. Right in front of them was the massive Christmas tree, blanketed in white lights, which almost touched the two-story-high ceiling. On either side of the carpeted spiral staircase were two sitting rooms, filled with antique carpets, golden lamps, and brocade couches. The floor was ivory-colored tile. Everything gleamed like it was made of gold.

It was good to see this house through new eyes. It really was a lot to take in. He led her toward the drawing room. She followed him slowly, still looking around.

“Architecturally, this building is a bit of a hodgepodge, but it’s still quite impressive.”

She trailed her hand along the banister as they walked by the stairs.

“Impressive and overwhelming.” She looked up and down the hallway, both sides of which had guns mounted along the walls. “And you work in buildings like this every day?”

He nodded.

“I do. At first I was awed by it every day, and now I’m used to it, for the most part. It strikes me every time something major happens—when there’s a state dinner, or a royal wedding, something like that—but things can become normal to you so quickly. And I’ve been working in and around these buildings for, all told, well over fifteen years now.” He smiled at her. “But sometimes I look around and I can’t believe I work amidst all of this.”

He took her into the drawing room, to see the painted ceilings and the art on the walls, then into the dining room, to see the tapestries hanging from the walls. She walked close to the tapestries.

“These tapestries are like something I’ve seen in a museum,” she said. He noticed that she kept her hands clasped behind her back. “The work that must have gone into these . . . all the detail. How extraordinary.”

He’d never inspected the tapestries that closely before, but now he stood next to her to look at them. She was right—so many of those tiny stitches created this artwork. What a feat.

Vivian made a circle of the room before she returned to his side.

“It’s like being inside a museum, except with no one else there.”

He looked around the room and laughed.

“That’s exactly what it’s like.”

They wandered through most of the main rooms, both up and downstairs. He took her to see the main dining room, but it was a bevy of activity with the staff getting ready for Christmas, so they just stood at the door and watched for a while. They went through the ballroom, where she gasped at the incredibly high ceilings and crystal chandeliers. They turned back down the central corridor toward the main staircase, and he saw Vivian stare at the walls lined with many different types of weapons.

“So medieval,” she said under her breath. He turned back and grinned at her, and she grinned back.

He’d been so consumed with work this year that he hadn’t stopped to enjoy himself in a while. This past hour with Vivian Forest had been the most fun he’d had in months. He liked walking with her. He liked talking to her. He hadn’t felt like this since . . .

He rolled his eyes at himself. One pretty black woman his age turns up, and he starts acting like his teenage nephew.

“Can I ask you a very basic question?” she said, when they reached the top of the stairs.

He stopped and smiled at her.

“Certainly.”

She looked down, then back at him.

“You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t know much about the monarchy—what does the Private Secretary to the Queen actually do?”

He laughed.

“Don’t worry, lots of people don’t know the answer to that question. Many things: the biggest role is to support the monarch in her duties. As Head of State she gets a box of government documents to read through every day, and does so without fail. And with, well, current events being what they are, there is plenty going on.”

Vivian nodded.

“Like with a lot of things about England, at first your system seems similar to ours, then when you dig deeper, it’s like it’s all in a completely different language.”

He lowered his voice.

“Don’t tell anyone this, but I worked for a member of Parliament early in my career, and for the Foreign Office for years after that, and I still sometimes get confused about politics here.”

She laughed again, and he smiled at her.

“But the job is also a lot of work dealing with her diary”—he saw the perplexed look on Vivian’s face—“or her calendar, as Americans call it—all of her public and private engagements.”

“So lots of juggling, in other words.” She smiled at him. “That makes it even more kind that you took the time out of your schedule to give me a tour. Thank you.”

He almost laughed. It had nothing to do with kindness; it was all selfishness on his part. He’d enjoyed this more than he’d enjoyed anything in a while.

“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Forest.” He winked at her, and she smiled.

He stopped in front of one of the big picture windows at the back of the house.

“You can see the stables from here.”

She gazed out the window toward where he was pointing.

“Oh wow, and there’s someone riding a horse!” She laughed. “Sorry, I’m sure this is normal for you, but it’s wild for me to see people on horseback like it’s nothing. The closest I’ve ever been to a horse in real life, other than a zoo, was probably one of those carriage horses they have in New York City.”

He bowed his head to her.

“Oh, we can’t have that. I’d love to take you to meet some horses while you’re here, if you have time. Maybe tomorrow?”

What in God’s name was he saying? He had enough on his plate for the next week; he didn’t need to keep playing tour guide. He had a whole list of detailed plans for tomorrow: go over all of the scheduled engagements for the royal family for the next three months, check on the progression of the Trooping the Colour logistics, deal with that memo he’d meant to read for ages, et cetera.