glared at us. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, hurrying off toward the men’s room.
“Thank you for rescuing me from that person,” I said to Freddie. “But please don’t make me eat licorice. He was right about that.”
“I don’t have any, so you’re safe,” Freddie said. “Although I didn’t think I liked it, either, until I tried some of Daphne’s salty Dutch licorice. I ordered an entire case last time I was over there.”
“And when was this?” I asked.
“A few weeks ago,” he said. “It was a quick visit. Don’t look at me like that, Killer. I merely came over to see if you’re as bored as I am. Daphne texted that Lax flew home already, but she stayed and wants us all to pop by the hotel for drinks.” He took out his phone and tapped at it. “Let’s see. She wrote, ‘My suite has the most spectacular view. Best experienced under cover of night. Tell Bex I have Aperol.’” He raised his brows and pulled an enthusiastic face.
“Ooooh,” I said. “I do love a spritz.”
“I’ll find Knickers and meet you at the back,” he said.
Daphne was installed in a three-bedroom penthouse at a newer luxury hotel right next to the Tower, tucked away on a narrow street that appeared to be undergoing construction for no reason—and that therefore was perfect for covert entrances and exits, as nobody wanted to drive on it. Her suite had three flop-worthy king beds, a full kitchen, and a wall-size TV, but the star was a wraparound terrace that jutted out over the Thames. The view was dominated by the river, the cacophony of modern buildings on its south side, and the iconic Tower Bridge, which felt close enough to touch.
“Blimey,” Nick breathed.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Daphne asked, easing the cork out of a bottle of Dom. “Mother favors The Savoy, but I wanted something new. Living on the edge, as it were.” The cork shot over the balcony. “Perhaps too literally.”
“The downside of living in London is that you never get to stay in a hotel in London,” Nick said, easing into a canvas deck chair and stretching his legs out to rest his feet on the edge of the firepit. “It’s a treat.”
“How long are you staying, Daphne?” I asked. “I didn’t even know you were coming.”
“I was meant to fly back tonight. It’s such an easy day trip. But I changed it to tomorrow morning so that Freddie and I could at least have coffee and one of your sausage rolls,” she said. “I was a bit nervous to be by myself, but Mother convinced me to, as she said, live a little.” Daphne blushed. “There is a security officer in the next suite, but only one. It’s a start!”
“Good on both of you,” Freddie said, dropping a slice of orange in my spritz and handing it to me before taking some Champagne for himself.
I took a greedy sip of my drink, and then felt my stomach lurch, so I set it down onto the lip of the firepit. I had been cutting back on alcohol, just in case. I knew that countless women found out they were knocked up after a month of carousing, and their babies turned out fine, but I felt increasing pressure to create the most perfect possible environment. Come on in; this uterus has been eating organic.
“Since I came over for the state dinner, Mother has invited me on all her trips here,” Daphne explained. “She likes to shop in London. The attention we get at home isn’t what you all receive, but she does find it easier in the UK, and she thought I might, too. She calls these our missions, and every time we successfully complete one, we both feel a bit more ready for me to spread my wings.”
“It’s been a very handy way to keep in touch,” Freddie said. “Lax apparently needs a lot of scented candles.”
“She says Jo Malone smells more authentic if she gets it here,” Daphne agreed.
“Please drag me along on your next mission,” I said. “I need to see the kind of damage Lax does to Harrods.”
Daphne smiled. “They adore her, as you might imagine. She is always telling me she wants me to dress more outrageously.” She looked down at her gray flannel dress, prim and long-sleeved but undoubtedly expensive. “The last time we were here, she kept sneaking leather trousers into my dressing room, even though I am so obviously not a leather trousers person.”