opened the door into a room done in cream and gray, with a few pops of color in the form of picture frames, and throw pillows on her low, modern couch. A large window overlooked Dam Square; across to the right I could see the line still forming outside Madame Tussauds, where a wax Freddie and Daphne had appeared a week ago.
Daphne gestured to her private powder room, and I gratefully availed myself of it, then came out to find her gazing at her engagement photo, framed and sitting in her bookcase. It was the one with the makeup in Freddie’s beard. He was staring at the camera and giving his best parody of Blue Steel, and she was cracking up. It was freaking adorable.
“I remember so well the day we met, Daphne,” I said. “You were a ball of nerves, and look at you now.”
“You were so direct with me, at a time when so few people were. I’ll never forget it.” She reached out and touched Freddie’s face in the photo. “My eyes are open, you know,” she said. “I know I am not the love of his life. Not yet. He’s protective of me. He cares about me. I think he can fall in love with me, in time. And I truly believe he will never hurt me.” She looked back at me. “I can give him understanding, and loyalty, and a place of his own. A place where there are no shadows.” Here, her glance went to my stomach, then back to my face. “He needs it so badly. I hope you support that.”
We held each other’s gaze, and then I drew her in for a hug, awkward though it was over my bulk. I wanted to tell her that Eleanor had felt the same thing, once upon a time; that she had clung to the idea that she could love her husband enough for both of them, and it hadn’t worked out. But history had repeated itself more than enough for one era.
“Freddie has never once doubted this,” I said instead. “It’s what he wants. So it’s what we all want.”
“I’m so glad we understand each other.” She kissed my cheek. “Let’s get you back. Someone is probably upset that we’re both gone, and it won’t do for this party to turn into a manhunt.” She grinned. “Goodness knows where they’ll find Edwin and Elizabeth.”
Our laughter bounced raucously around the stairwell as we descended.
* * *
“I should have stopped at least one negroni ago,” Nick moaned, sliding onto the sofa in our guest quarters. “Those bartenders had heavy hands.”
“I’ll take your hangover if you’ll take my feet,” I said, tearing off my nylons and putting them on the table. My entire life since I married Nick felt like a series of events where I was just waiting to get home and take off my hose. My poor feet looked like sausages with five other sausages sticking out of them.
Nick sat up and took them into his lap. “I cannot believe he showed up,” he said, beginning to rub my left foot. “I mean, I can. But it was obnoxious to cruise in on Gran’s arm like we haven’t spent all month wondering what the hell he means when he sends us a GIF of Leo and Kate on the prow of the Titanic.”
A knock came at the door. “Ooh, brilliant, I asked if someone could send up snacks,” said Nick, scooting out from under my legs to answer the door.
“Did you talk to him?” I asked, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.
“No, not yet, but—oh.”
I opened my eyes to see Richard standing in the doorway to our suite. His tie was off, and his hair was mussed; he seemed tired. He looked at both of us emptily.
“May I?”
Nick opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter. Hax and Lax had arranged for Freddie’s immediate family to have guest rooms at the palace, after concluding that it was the wisest place to stash me in case the babies decided to upstage everyone and be born early on foreign soil. Lax even ordered me a scooter to traverse the long palace hallways. Nick had used it three times already.
Richard shuffled in and sat down, and I saw that he had a bottle of scotch in his hand. Nick closed the door and wheeled on him.
“Do you have something to say for yourself that isn’t in moving pictures?” he asked.