Chapter Six
Six
LAILA
Two years ago
“Have you had dinner yet?” Duchess Monica asks me as she takes baby Madeline from my arms.
I shake my head and give her a wan smile. “Haven’t had a chance,” I admit. Food is the last thing on my mind when I’m busy like this, and even though all staff have access to the kitchen, it always feels a little wrong to go and get food for myself outside of mealtimes, like I’m scavenging a rich person’s house or something.
She tilts her head and gives me a dry look as she eyes me. She’s not much older than me yet acts like my mother sometimes, not that I don’t appreciate it every now and then. It’s nice to feel looked after, especially since I only ever get that from my grandmother, and she’s back at home in her village in Norway. Which reminds me, first vacation I get, I’ll be flying there to see her.
“Laila,” she admonishes me. “You need dinner. If I’d known, you could have eaten with us.”
I feel a little like a child who has gotten a scolding. “I’m fine.” Besides, even though I’ve eaten dinner with Eddie and Monica a few times since I started a month ago, I always feel like a charity case. Don’t get me wrong—the Fairfaxes are the most down-to-earth royals you could ever meet, and they always make me feel welcome. But I’m also very aware of my role in this house—that they are not only royals and I’m a commoner but that they are also my employers. Mistaking kindness for friendship is a mistake I’ve made before, and I know better than to get close to someone who can fire me.
“Is she off duty now?” James’s deep voice says from behind me.
I turn around to see him in the doorway of the nursery, the sight of him in his suit making my heart flutter against my will.
Monica blinks at him, adjusting her grip on Madeline, who is playing with her mother’s long dark hair. “Laila? Sure.”
“Actually I’ve got another hour,” I say, glancing at my watch, wondering what James is getting at.
“It’s fine,” Monica says to me. Then she narrows her dark eyes at James. “You’re not corrupting her, are you?”
His mouth curls. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” James says solemnly, though his expression says otherwise.
I can’t help but smile. I’ve worked for the Fairfaxes for long enough now to know that their interactions are always full of banter and humor.
“But I’m heading into the city to see Piper and Harrison before they leave tomorrow,” he continues. He fixes his eyes on me. “And I was wondering if you wanted to come along.”
Harrison was the Fairfaxes’ PPO when they lived in Canada, and Piper was the neighbor of the house they were renting. Piper and Harrison got off on the wrong foot but eventually fell in love with each other. Enough that Harrison ended up quitting his job and opening a bakery on the island. I met the two of them when they came by the other day for tea, and they are absolutely adorable, although they seem to be polar opposites, with Harrison very stoic and Piper a bright ball of sunshine.
“Oh, right,” Monica says with a wistful look in her eyes. “I can’t believe they’re leaving so soon. A week doesn’t seem like enough time to have a proper visit.”
“He has pies to bake, and she’s got children to teach,” he says. “I promise we won’t stay out too late,” he adds, knowing full well he’ll do whatever he pleases.
That’s one of the many differences between us that I’ve picked up on over the last month. While I haven’t had much interaction with James, it’s obvious that he likes to stay out late on his days off, and sometimes when I can’t sleep I’ll look out the window and see him coming home in the middle of the night, drunk and weaving down the path through the yard. I have to admit, I often feel a twinge of jealousy, wishing that I could just go out without having anxiety over it.
“All right, then,” Monica says, giving James a suspicious look. “But if she’s not in her room at ten, I’m coming to get her,” she adds with a wink.
“I’ll make sure she’s in bed on time,” James promises, making the sign of the cross over his chest.
“And make sure she eats something,” Monica adds adamantly. She grins at me. “Try to have a little fun, Laila.”
I shouldn’t be so surprised that Monica is encouraging her employees to fraternize, considering Monica wasn’t born a royal and it goes with her easy personality. Still, it catches me off guard. After all, I hadn’t even agreed to this yet. It’s like she knows I’ll say yes anyway.
“I should go change,” I concede, looking down at my uniform of a navy A-line dress that’s riddled with stains from Madeline. I look at James. “How much time do I have?”
“No rush. Take your time,” he says. “I’ll be in the study.”
He turns and heads down the hall. Naturally he doesn’t have to change. He’s in a suit, as always. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in anything outside of a suit. Even when he goes to the bars, he’s always impeccably dressed.
Definitely makes you wonder what’s underneath the suit , I think, though I push that image out of my head. Yet another intrusive thought when it comes to him.
As if Monica can hear the chatter in my brain, she nods at the door. “Go, Laila,” she says imploringly. “You deserve to have a night off. Have fun.”
I decide to heed her advice. I thank her and head down the hall and across the yard to my quarters. August is coming to a close, and though there are a few hot days scattered here and there, the evenings are cool and the air smells like hay from the neighboring fields beyond the estate.
I take the world’s quickest shower, not getting my hair wet, and change into jeans and a loose tank top. I wear a pair of sandals that I bought on Amazon, and I do my hair, rubbing in some anti-frizz stuff before pulling it back into a low ponytail. I don’t want to go overboard, but I want to look nice for my first night off since I started working here.
When I get to the study, I find James sprawled out in one of the armchairs, reading a book. A piece of his dark hair flops against his forehead, and I have this sudden urge to push it back.
He looks up as I enter the room, setting his book down on the table beside the chair, and takes a moment to appraise me. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks away the seconds.
“You look lovely,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say bashfully, leaning against the wall beside the door. I can’t remember the last time someone called me lovely. Monica often tells me if I’m looking pretty, but it’s been a long time since a man has said it. I clear my throat, feeling a little awkward. “Sorry I took so long.” I peer at the book, trying to recognize the title. “What are you reading?”
“Something you’d probably like,” he says, getting to his feet. “Wife threw her husband off a moving train…or did she?” He adds with a mock suspicious squint.
I can’t help but smile. “Got to love a damaged heroine.”
“They are my favorite,” he says affectionately. “Shall we?”
Primrose Cottage is located on the same sprawling estate as Berkstead Castle, where the king and queen spend their weekends and summers, but the land is so massive that even when they are on the property, you never see them. I get the feeling that even though the tabloids report that Eddie and Monica have patched things up with the king and queen, their relationship is still strained and has been ever since they ditched England for Canada. Even the arrival of Madeline hasn’t done much to pull them back together, except in public. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day they end up leaving England again.
Outside, the night air blows with a soft wind and there’s a town car waiting for us. A perk of working for the Fairfaxes is that we don’t have to deal with public transportation. Instead we have drivers that take us wherever we want to go, as if we are royalty ourselves.
The driver comes around and opens the car’s back doors for us.
“I’d drive us into town myself,” James says as he gestures for me to get in, “but then I can’t properly imbibe.”
I slide in. “You have a car?”
He nods and comes around the other side, buckling in as the driver closes the doors. “I do. It’s a piece-of-shite old Peugeot, but it works. There’s something about being on an estate like this, outside the city, that feels a little claustrophobic, even when you do have people like my good man Charles over here to drive you.”
“Appreciated, sir,” the driver, who I now know as Charles, says, winking at him in the rearview mirror.
He drives off, and I have to admit, I feel a bit of a thrill as Primrose Cottage and the towering Berkstead Castle behind it begin to fade into the background. The city! London! I had forgotten how exciting it is to be living near it, I’ve been so worked up with my job.
“Would you look at that,” James says. “Your face is lighting up.”
I glance at him, suddenly very aware of how close I am to him. Our eyes are inches apart, and I can see flecks of a lighter color in his dark eyes. The car is cast into a strange watery light as we pass under lampposts, and the scene feels dreamy. There’s a thread of tension between us, and even though he probably doesn’t notice it at all, I do. It makes the hair on my arms rise.
I swallow thickly. “My face?”
He reaches out and puts his fingers under my chin, tilting my face so it’s facing him dead-on. He’s so close my breath catches. I can smell him, the soap from his morning shower and the faint woodsy smell of his cologne. It makes me want to inhale deeply, but I can’t do that when my eyes are locked with his.
“This very face,” he says. “Makes your eyes dance.” His hand drops away and I feel bereft.
Suddenly the car bumps over a pothole and I jolt, coming back to reality. James looks at me and grins, obviously enjoying the fact that he managed to startle me.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You’re obviously excited about something.”
I blush, the tension building. “It’s just that I’ve been so busy with my job that I’ve forgotten how great it is to be living near London.”
He nods, his grin turning softer. “I figured that. Which is why I thought it would be good for you to get out of your head for a while. Live a little.”
So he’s already picked up on how inward I get.
“Let me guess, you think the night will end with me dancing on top of bars.”
He laughs. “I would pay to see that.”
I give him a look. “Just so you know, I don’t actually dance on bars.”
“Just so you know, I don’t pay either.”
I giggle at that and lapse into a mix of small talk and silence, though both become more comfortable as the ride goes on. Eventually the city limits approach and the density thickens. The car comes to a stop. I glance out the window. We’re in a very upscale part of London, down the road from Harrod’s. The car pulls up to a red light. I watch a woman in a beautiful ball gown cross the street in front of us, followed by a man in a tux, and I can’t help but marvel at them, wondering where they are going.
“This is amazing,” I say quietly, eyeing the cabs jutting across traffic, the gleaming red double-decker buses that trundle below brick buildings, the flashing lights of the theater. “Why don’t I come here more often? I feel like I’m in a movie.”
James puts his hand on my shoulder, sending a warm thrill through me. I glance at him, and he gives me a smile. “Then let’s make this the best movie we can.”
Okay. That was cheesy. That was the line a guy would give you on a first date, and this definitely isn’t that.
“What?” he says, his dark brows arching dramatically. “Too much?”
I make a gesture with my thumb and forefinger. “A little.”
Charles parks the car and comes around, opening our doors like we’re royalty. He tells James to text him when we’re ready to come home, and I suddenly feel giddy, like I’m a teenager again, playing hooky from school or something, or heading to a party I’ve been forbidden to go to. Or at least, I figure that’s what it feels like to be a normal teen. I never had much of a childhood, and my teenage years were a struggle.
“Where are we going?” I ask as James puts his hand at the small of my back, the warmth of his touch coming through my top, and guides me down the street to our left. The air smells like a mixture of car exhaust, cigarette smoke, and rain coming soon, and it’s more humid than it is in the countryside. All around me are lights and people and the sounds of the city. I can feel their presence in the air, pulsing through me. My ears ring with the vibration of a thousand conversations. I can smell food frying, hear music playing. I can see the soft light pouring from the buildings, casting shadows from all around.
“Just a restaurant I’m a fan of,” James says as his hand falls away. “Hope you like Italian.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Well, you strike me as a woman of many surprises,” he says. “Now if we could just get you to tell me what they are…”
I give him a coy glance. “Maybe you’ll find out.”
Laila, stop it , I tell myself. Just stop.
He gives me a sexy, crooked smile. “Maybe I will.”
Ugh. What the hell is happening here? He’s flirting with me, and I’m flirting with him, and that’s just a horrible idea all around. I promise myself to have no more than one drink with dinner, because something tells me this man has the power to make me do very regrettable things.
We reach the restaurant, a tiny Italian place, and James holds the door open for me. I step inside and immediately feel transported to the streets of Rome, or so the décor implies. The walls are decorated with photos of the Italian countryside; there’s a display of masks and an ornate vase with an olive tree in it. Along the left side of the restaurant are a few booths; at one of them I recognize Piper and Harrison. Her eyes go wide when she sees me, and she smiles, while Harrison twists in his seat to look as we come over.
“Laila,” Piper says. “I didn’t know you’d be coming.”
She gets out of her seat and comes and gives me a hug. I go stiff and lightly pat her back, surprised at her sudden affection. I only talked with her and Harrison for a little bit when they were visiting Eddie and Monica, but I guess she’s the hugger type. I’m definitely not.
“She’s on her fourth glass of wine,” Harrison says good-naturedly, getting to his feet.
Piper sighs and releases me before reaching over to smack him on the arm. “Hey, I’m not drunk, I’m friendly,” she scolds him, exaggerating the last word.
Harrison gives her a wry smile and then nods at me. “Nice to see you again, Laila. Glad you could join us.”
“Finally convinced her to leave the house,” James says.
I give him a puzzled look. “Finally? This is the first time you’ve invited me.”
“There were others. Perhaps I wasn’t direct enough,” he says.
“James? Not direct? That’s a new one,” Harrison says with a laugh.
James sits down beside him, and I slide into the booth beside Piper.
A waitress who has been hovering nearby pounces on us with the menus, rattling off the specials, but I’m not listening to her. I’m thinking of what James just said. When on earth had he invited me out to town with him? Sure, he did so the first day we really met, but after that…
And then I realize he’s been doing it all this time, and no, he wasn’t direct enough. There was one night when he asked me what I was doing and I said I was going to bed. Another morning I passed him in the halls and he said I ought to go out and enjoy the fresh air. Yet another time after dinner he announced he was heading into town and followed that with an awkwardly long pause, as if waiting for me to say something.
“Miss?” the waitress says to me.
I tear my eyes away from James and blink at her. “Sorry, what?”
“What will you have to drink? Wine with the table or…?”
“We got another bottle of red,” Piper says as she nudges me and nods at the empty bottle in the middle of the table that the waitress is removing. “It’s delicious.”
I give her a quick smile. “Red wine can give me a headache sometimes,” I admit, then tell the waitress I’d like an Aperol Spritz. Trendy, yes, but a drink that’s perfect for the last days of summer.
“Looking forward to going home?” James asks the couple.
Piper sighs. “Yes and no. It’s been amazing here. It’s the first time we’ve done anything like this since…”
“Since I moved to the island,” Harrison finishes. “It’s hard to find staff on the island, so I’ve been reluctant to leave the bakery. But now I’ve found a worker I can really trust. Hopefully she’ll still be there when we return.”
“And I’m looking forward to fall and being back in the classroom,” Piper says. “New year, new students, the fall fair, pumpkin spice everything. But I have to say, it’s been so nice to just be overseas, in a big city, seeing life through other people’s eyes, you know? Sometimes I start to feel closed in if I stay on the island for too long. Like I can’t think clearly, like I don’t have a lot of freedom to be…me.”
Even though I’ve never lived on an island, I know exactly what she’s talking about. The feeling of being caged, of not being able to be your true self.
“What about you?” I ask Harrison. “Island life affecting you the same way?”
He manages a small smile, his gaze focused on Piper and soft with affection. “Not at all. It was good to come back to Mother England, but I don’t feel closed in, not with her by my side.”
“Aw, come on, mate,” James says with a derisive laugh. “No one wants to hear how happy you are.”
He’s right about that. Don’t get me wrong, Piper is adorable and Harrison is the strong, silent, sexy type, and I’m happy for them because they’re very clearly in love. But sometimes when I’m around happy couples, it just reminds me of how I’ll probably never have that in my life.
Harrison scoffs at James. “Right, as if you aren’t breaking women’s hearts left and right every time you come to the city.”
James rolls his eyes at that, but Piper stiffens up beside me, and I can tell she’s attempting to kick Harrison under the table, as if I shouldn’t hear about this. I mean, I don’t care what James does, though I never gave much thought to who he was seeing when he went into the city. I guess the guy does date, he just doesn’t bring them home.
I shift in my seat and plaster on a smile to hide the strange prick of jealousy in my gut, just as the waitress returns with the much-needed drinks.
We all toast bon voyage to Piper and Harrison, and the rest of the dinner flows nicely. Between bites of cacio e pepe and the heavenly burrata salad, I feel my shoulders drop, a weight lifted. It feels like I actually have friends, and the more I dwell on that the more I grow warm inside. It makes me want to open up, to ask them silly questions, to relax and let my guard down a little.
But I manage to keep myself in check, and though I want to drink more than just the Aperol Spritz, I limit myself to one.
When the meal is done we walk Piper and Harrison to the tube (she was insistent on taking it one last time, who knows why) and say our goodbyes. They tell us they’ll be back soon, which I doubt, and if either James or I want a real vacation, we should come visit them in Canada, but I doubt that too, unless Eddie and Monica decide to go.
Then they’re gone and it’s just James and me outside the Knightsbridge station. The rain I smelled earlier feels close, an electric charge to the breeze, signaling change.
“I think it’s going to rain,” I tell him.
“We better go inside a pub,” he says with a grin.
I sigh. “I should really get back home. I promised Monica I’d be in bed early. Hell, you promised her that.”
“Yes, early. Early in the morning,” James corrects, his eyes glinting in the city lights.
I laugh. “I’m not dancing on any tables, remember?”
He takes a step closer to me just as a fat drop of rain bounces off my nose. “Ah, I knew you were a glutton for punishment, Laila.”
“What do you mean?”
“Accompanying me out to drink, when you said you were going to bed early.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything,” I tell him as the rain starts to come down steadily. I really need him to ring up Charles and get the car to come get us.
“Come on,” he says, his voice lower and more seductive than it was a second ago. “Let’s go have a pint.”
I look at him, his eyes on me, his expression enticing. Damn, he is a persistent one. “I really should go back. And you should too.”
“Why?” he asks, and as he does so, he takes his suit jacket off and holds it over me to shield me from the rain.
Okay. If that’s not the most chivalrous gesture, then I don’t know what is. Is he purposely trying to make me swoon, or is this really him?
“We,” I begin, trying to find the right words, “shouldn’t fraternize.”
“Fraternize?” he repeats, taking another step closer until his energy engulfs me and I’m pretty much pressed up against him. “What century are you from?”
“You know what I mean,” I say, staring up at him like I’m entranced, feeling my resolve start to weaken.
“Are you worried we’ll start sleeping together?” he says, his eyes alight as he jumps right into the awkward.
I’m not sure what expression I have on my face—probably shock—but he laughs. “I’m joking, Laila. You don’t have to look so serious. It’s just a friendly drink, nothing more.”
I’m relieved to hear that, but even so, I don’t trust myself around him, and with the rain coming down harder, I need to make a choice or we’ll get soaked.
“Come on,” he says, gesturing with his head down the street. “I know a quiet and cozy pub right there. I’ll call Charles now, and we can wait there until he comes. Deal?”
I take in a deep breath and nod. “Deal.”