Royal Holiday - Jasmine Guillory Page 0,10
is normal for you, but it’s wild for me to see people on horseback like it’s nothing. The closest I’ve ever been to a horse in real life, other than a zoo, was probably one of those carriage horses they have in New York City.”
He bowed his head to her.
“Oh, we can’t have that. I’d love to take you to meet some horses while you’re here, if you have time. Maybe tomorrow?”
What in God’s name was he saying? He had enough on his plate for the next week; he didn’t need to keep playing tour guide. He had a whole list of detailed plans for tomorrow: go over all of the scheduled engagements for the royal family for the next three months, check on the progression of the Trooping the Colour logistics, deal with that memo he’d meant to read for ages, et cetera.
Granted . . . none of that was time sensitive. He was in a bit of a holding pattern right now, just waiting for news. He had plenty of time to do all of those tasks.
Vivian smiled at him.
“I’d love that,” she said.
As they walked on, she turned to him with a question on her face, then turned away.
“Was there something else?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“No, it’s too personal of a question. We just met each other an hour ago.”
He opened up the napkin he’d been carrying since they left Sycamore Cottage and handed her one of Julia’s scones.
“We met over these scones; you get one free question. Didn’t you know the old English superstition?”
She shook her head and laughed at him but took the scone.
“I know you all think Americans are gullible about the British, and we will probably believe anything you say about many things, especially when you say it in that incredible accent, but that’s where I draw the line. But fine, I’ll ask anyway: Are there other black people who work for the Queen?”
A lot of people had tried to ask him this question, but they’d asked it so euphemistically he’d been able to pretend he didn’t understand what they were asking, even when they’d rephrased it three or four times. He smiled at those memories. That had frustrated those people so much.
Strangely, though, he didn’t mind Vivian Forest asking him this. Maybe it was because of the way she’d asked it—so up front and without any dancing around. Or maybe it was just because he liked her.
“A few, but not many. When I worked for her the first time, I was the only one on the personal staff—since I’ve come back, there have been a few more, but . . . only a few.”
He led her in the direction of his office on the far side of the house.
“Why did you leave? And why did you come back?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I keep asking so many questions. You don’t have to answer that.”
He laughed.
“I don’t mind. I left the first time because I received a job offer in the private sector that I couldn’t refuse.” One which had paid him almost three times the salary he’d received as an assistant private secretary. Working for the Queen meant many things, but good pay wasn’t one of them. “I worked for a consulting firm for years; I was skeptical about how much I’d like the job at first, but it turned out I enjoy it a great deal. But I came back because my former boss had some health issues that caused him to resign suddenly, and Her Majesty needed someone experienced to jump into the private secretary role, so she called me. At first I said no, but she invited me for tea to discuss it further, and”—he smiled at Vivian—“she’s very good at pleading her case. So here I am. I warned her that I couldn’t promise to stay here forever—I would like to go back to the private sector at some point—but it’s been good to be back.”
Vivian nodded. He could tell she’d really been listening to him. She hesitated for a moment, but finally asked her question.
“Are you the first? Black private secretary, I mean?”
He nodded slowly and tried not to let his face reflect the rush of pride he felt.
“And that’s another reason I said yes.”
He spent his days immersed in this job and didn’t think about that too often. What an accomplishment it was, and everything it had taken for him to achieve it. Not just the years of hard work, but all of