Royal Holiday (The Wedding Date, #4)(23)

“Thank you.” She turned to the front door and then back around with a start. “Oh no, I need to apologize to Julia for missing lunch. Do you want to wait for me here?”

Malcolm shook his head.

“I’ll come with you. We can go out through the kitchen door.”

Vivian led Malcolm through the house to the kitchen and came upon Julia stirring something in a big red pot. It smelled delicious.

Before she could say anything to Julia, Malcolm stepped in front of her.

“Julia, please forgive me, but I’m stealing Vivian here away for lunch. I hope it doesn’t ruin your plan.”

Julia looked up at them and shook her head.

“First you come and steal all of my scones, then you steal my guest away. What are you going to do next?” She waved them out the door. “No hard feelings, this time.”

Vivian looked at Julia. She still felt guilty for bailing on her for lunch, when they’d discussed the soup just this morning.

“I’m so sorry, Julia. I don’t want you to think . . .”

Julia brushed her apologies away.

“Go, and have a great time, and come back and tell me how much better my food is.” She grinned at Malcolm. “Glad you can join us for Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, there are no scones on the menu.”

Malcolm opened the back door for Vivian.

“I take that as a personal slight. I hope you realize that.” Julia’s laughter rang out at them as they walked out the back door.

Malcolm put his hand on her back to guide her to the right when they got outside. She felt that small touch throughout her body.

“This is the easiest way to get to my car.”

It was colder than the day before; Malcolm put his hands in his pockets and hunched against the cold. She really couldn’t hold out against the hat any longer, could she? She took a few bobby pins out of her coat pocket and twisted and pinned her hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. With a sigh, she pulled her hat on.

“How close is the town?” she asked.

“Just about ten minutes away. It’s an easier commute than when the Queen is in London or Windsor, that’s for sure. The traffic from here to there—especially at this time of year—is almost nonexistent.”

“Commute?” She realized she hadn’t thought of that. “Where do you stay when you’re working out of Sandringham?”

He glanced down at her, and a smile spread over his face. Was he smiling because of how she looked in her hat? She knew she shouldn’t have put this thing on.

“At a nearby hotel,” he said. “I’ve stayed in one of the rooms in the house once before, and never again. That was the most uncomfortable few days in my life.”

She laughed at the look of reminiscent horror on his face.

“Why? What was so terrible about it?”

He held up a hand.

“You feel how cold it is right here, outside, walking into the wind? That’s how cold it is inside that house at night when you’re trying to sleep. It was built in the 1800s, there’s no central heating, and every window somehow has at least four drafts in it, even though that doesn’t make sense. I knew all of that going in, of course, but I didn’t understand what it would feel like. I even brought an extra blanket, but I should have brought an entire tauntaun to cut open and get in the middle of.”

When she laughed, he shook his head.

“Oh, I’m not done. It’s worse during the holidays, because the whole family comes for Christmas, so any staff who has to be up here—and even some of the family members—get assigned to old servants’ quarters. And one thing that people really did not care about when building homes in the 1800s was the comfort of their servants.” He led her into a small parking lot. “Now, I stay in a nice, small hotel in town, where the woman who owns it loves the royal family and therefore treats me with an overwhelming amount of respect because I work for the Queen. Normally, I hate that, but for a hotel, it’s ideal. I’m never bothered when I don’t want to be, the temperature in my room is always perfect, and I can get meals whenever I want, which is all I need from a hotel.”

He unlocked his car and smiled at her.

“How are you enjoying your stay at Sycamore Cottage? Other than Julia’s delicious food, of course.”

She laughed.

“You can’t separate those two things—I’m sure I’ll be talking about Julia’s delicious food for years to come. She made ham and cheese croissants for breakfast today—just because! I had one warm out of the oven.” She could still taste that first flaky, savory, buttery bite. “But everything has been lovely—the Duke and Duchess are very kind, and it’s a quite comfortable house. If only I didn’t have jet lag, this trip would be perfect so far.” She laughed. “But at least I can text my family and friends back home in the middle of the night.”

When they got into his car, he flicked on the heated seats on her side.

“Ah, but you’re on vacation,” he said. “You can supplement those middle-of-the-night wake-ups with a nice afternoon nap. I’ll get you back just in time for it.”

She grinned at him.

“First the nap, then more tea and more of Julia’s treats—I could get used to this kind of vacation.”

Malcolm drove off the estate and toward the town. He suddenly realized he was actually alone with Vivian for the first time—every other time he’d seen her, they’d been surrounded by the many visible and invisible people who lived and worked on the Sandringham Estate. But now they were off the estate and alone in his car. It felt freeing.