“As a matter of fact . . . no, but . . .”

They both laughed.

“I can walk back on my own, I promise,” she said. “Just point me in the right direction, and maybe warn the security guards that a middle-aged black American woman is wandering around the grounds of a royal estate.”

He laughed as they went down the back stairs.

“No need, I told you they know you’re here. But I’m going to take you out the side door—we took the long way up to the house today, because I wanted you to see the whole thing, but it’s faster to get back to Sycamore Cottage from this door.”

She smiled.

“It helps that I know what it looks like now.” She pulled out her phone. “And those pictures I took on our walk here will come in handy to get me home.”

He paused by the door.

“Did you trail scone crumbs, too, so you could find your way home?”

She winked at him.

“See, I knew I was inside of a fairy tale.”

He opened the side door for her, and the cold air rushed in at them.

“Have a safe walk back, Ms. Forest. I’m counting on that trip to the stables tomorrow.”

She grinned.

“Thank you, Mr. Hudson. I look forward to it.”

She walked away and waved at him. He turned to go inside, still with a smile on his face.

Chapter Three

Vivian’s walk back to Sycamore Cottage took only about fifteen minutes. How was that possible, when her walk from Sycamore Cottage to Sandringham House with Malcolm had taken so much longer?

Well, they’d walked the long way around, after all. And that house was enormous. Plus, he’d had to stop and show her things on the way in, like the . . . Okay, she couldn’t remember anymore what he’d stopped to show her; she just remembered how entertained she’d been.

She hadn’t lost track of time like that talking to a man in years. It had probably been since the beginning of her relationship with Ray, which had fizzled out on both sides a few years ago. She knew this couldn’t be the beginning of any sort of relationship—not even a fling, since she was sleeping in a Duchess’s guest room across the hall from her daughter—but she’d missed having someone to talk to. Someone to flirt with. Someone to laugh with. Someone—a male someone—who clearly enjoyed her company.

She had no idea if Malcolm really was going to get in touch with her to show her the stables, but she bet that he would. She’d seen that interested look in a man’s eye enough times to recognize it. If she had even a few more hours of that during her time in England, what an unexpected bonus that would be.

She walked up the front steps to Sycamore Cottage, still smiling, and said hello to the suit who opened the door before she’d even been able to knock.

“Ms. Forest.” He nodded at her.

She smiled at him.

“Good afternoon . . . I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to ask questions like this, but she wasn’t in the habit of letting people open her doors and cook for her without knowing their names. Of course, she wasn’t in the habit of letting people open her doors at all, but she knew the names of all of the cafeteria workers at the hospital, and all of the janitors, too. This guy might wear a suit, but that didn’t make him invisible.

“James, ma’am.”

She nodded at him.

“Good afternoon, James.”

Maddie came into the hallway.

“I thought I heard your voice. Where did you go this morning? You look all smiling and windblown; did you have a nice walk? Are you ready for lunch?”

Vivian unwound the scarf from around her neck, and James took it and her coat from her.

“More than ready. I’m starving.”

Maddie led her back toward the kitchen.

“Great. Lunch is just us. The Duke and Duchess are off doing a family thing this afternoon. I can’t relax for long; I have a bunch of tiny alterations to do that I want to make sure to get right, so I’ll be booked most of the afternoon, if that’s okay.”

Vivian nodded.

“Of course that’s okay; you’re here to work. I’ll keep myself occupied, don’t worry.”

She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check if Jo had texted back.

Doing great here, don’t worry about me. You’d better be having a great time in England!!!

“How’s everyone at home?” Maddie asked.

“Okay, I hope. Aunt Jo says she is, anyway. But she might just be saying that.”

Maddie put her arm around Vivian’s shoulder.

“Aunt Jo is fine, Mom. I’m sure she wants you to relax and not worry about her.”

Vivian laughed.

“That’s just what she told me to do. Are you two conspiring against me?”

“Conspiring for you, maybe,” Maddie said.

They walked into a little breakfast room Vivian hadn’t noticed before, where Julia was setting lunch out on the table.

“Ms. Forest, hello again. Did you have a nice walk with Mr. Hudson?”

Vivian saw Maddie’s eyes on her.

“I did, thank you. He gave me a lovely tour of the grounds and the house, though I’m sure we only saw a small fraction of what there is. And we enjoyed those scones of yours a great deal.”

Julia laughed.

“He’s always like that about those scones. I tease him like he’s not allowed to have them, but I always make extras so he can have some, and I wager he knows that.” She gestured to the small, round table. “Please, sit down. Your lunch is all ready.”

Julia bustled back to the kitchen, and Vivian and Maddie sat at the table.

Before Maddie could ask the question Vivian knew was coming, Julia brought bowls of steaming potato soup and a platter of roast beef sandwiches to the table.

“I thought you’d need something cozy and warming, and you said how much you enjoyed those sandwiches last night.” She poured them water from a pitcher on the table. “If you need anything else, just ring the bell here.”

Vivian and Maddie both thanked her, and she disappeared.

Vivian tasted the soup. She was doubtful about it—in her experience, potato soup tended to be heavy and bland. But wow, this was creamy and flavorful and just what she needed after a walk outside in northern England in December.

“Oh wow, this soup is great.”

Maddie put her spoon into the soup but didn’t taste it.

“Hey, Mom?”

Vivian looked up at her, a mock-innocent expression on her face.

“Yes, Maddie?”

“Who is ‘Mr. Hudson’?”

Vivian laughed, more at how predictable her daughter was than the question itself. When Maddie was little, Vivian had kept her life with her daughter very separate from any romantic relationships. That had infuriated Maddie, who since the age of seven had wanted to know if her mother was dating anyone and if not, why not. Vivian had always refused to tell her—which had just infuriated Maddie more. Even though her daughter was a grown woman now, she’d never really gotten out of the habit of keeping her personal life a secret.

But she supposed she had to answer this question. She and Malcolm weren’t dating; she would probably never see him again.