Affairs of State(29)

On Tuesday morning he tried again, hoping for a quick tea, only to be politely brushed off. Restless as hell by Wednesday afternoon, he threw on a panama hat that covered his face and decided to stroll the short distance from St James’s Palace to Buckingham Palace. Maybe he’d go for a ride on one of the queen’s horses. He told his driver, who doubled as security, to head there without him so he could get some fresh air. David didn’t make a fuss. He knew that nothing was likely to happen on the quiet streets between the two palaces, and Simon had his phone if needed.

He was walking briskly, trying to banish the vision of Ariella’s intoxicating beauty from his mind, when a girl walking along the other side of the street, in the opposite direction, caught his eye.

She walked exactly like Ariella. Long-legged, and graceful as a gazelle, with the slightly loping stride of someone in a hurry. But this woman had shoulder-length blond hair. Large dark glasses hid her face. He turned and stared after her as she passed.

That was Ariella’s walk. And those were her shoes. The sight of those simple black ballet flats she favored sent a jolt of adrenaline to his own feet. He turned, following her, still on the opposite side of the street.

Why would she be in disguise? The hair must be a wig. The neat black skirt did nothing to disguise the elegant swing of her hips. He’d recognize that walk anywhere. Who was she hiding from? She had no reason to conceal her movements to plan the big wedding she was here to organize. She was used to photographers tracking her and mostly ignored them, as he’d witnessed on several occasions in D.C.

She was doing something that she didn’t want anyone to know about. Including him.

She crossed the road to his side and he slowed his pace and hung back a little. Not that she even glanced at him. She was lost in a world of her own, barely noticing the other people on the pavement. She walked fast, but he had no trouble keeping up.

Why are you following her?

Because I want to know where she’s going.

Something in his gut told him that this was wrong. She had a right to privacy. In fact they’d had several long discussions about how much they valued their right to privacy, which was often under siege. Somehow, that didn’t stop him.

She turned left, down a small side road. She hesitated and pulled a phone out of her pocket, causing him to stop in his tracks. A man walking behind him bumped into him, and by the time he’d apologized she was walking again. Talking on the phone.

He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but her singsong laugh was unmistakable. Which confirmed what he already knew. Ariella Winthrop was walking through Mayfair in disguise, and he was going to find out why.

Why hadn’t she told him where she was going? Fresh from defending her to his suspicious family, he found doubts sneaking into his mind. He knew she wouldn’t leak stories of their romance to the media. Would she? Not that there was anything to leak, though he intended to change that as soon as humanly possible.

Could it be something to do with her famous father? They hadn’t spoken much about him. She seemed to find the subject awkward, considering that she’d never met him.

Or was there another man in her life? His mind and body recoiled from the idea and he didn’t believe it for a moment. But where was she going?

She turned left and he hurried to keep up, in case she disappeared into one of the tall Edwardian buildings lining the street. She’d tucked her phone back into her purse and strode on, looking intently ahead. Then she stopped.

This time he glanced behind him before halting, to avoid a collision. She pulled out a piece of paper and glanced up at the plaque on the house. Then she climbed the steps, rang a bell, and entered through a pair of heavy wood doors.

He approached the building a full minute later and paused as discreetly as possible in front of the doorway. The Westchester Club. He had no idea what that was, only that he wanted to gain entry. He strolled to the end of the block, pretended to casually consult a No Parking sign and considered his options.

* * *

Ariella’s heart pounded as she climbed into the elevator and pressed a button. It was the old-fashioned kind of elevator with the sliding iron gates, and hearing the porter slam them behind her didn’t help her nerves. Her mother was waiting for her on the fifth floor.

Scarlet had suggested this private club as a venue. Rooms were available for rent only to the most exclusive groups, and Scarlet had called in a favor to secure one for this afternoon, since it was near Ariella’s hotel so she could get there without attracting attention.