Royal Holiday - Jasmine Guillory Page 0,23

wanted? All he could say was no. So what? Plenty of people had said no to her in her life. What would it matter if he did?

When Vivian walked into her room, her eyes landed on Malcolm’s letter of the morning on top of the bureau in the corner, and she smiled.

She suddenly knew what to do.

Chapter Five

When Malcolm walked into Sandringham House the next morning, the normally calm building was bustling in preparation for the upcoming royal family Christmas festivities. He dodged around the rest of the staff and the many, many Christmas decorations as he made his way up to his small office. This house had so many Christmas trees he’d lost count.

When he got to his office, he picked up his phone and called over to the prime minister’s office, to see if there was any kind of concrete plan. Fifteen minutes later, he hung up the phone with a long sigh. Why had he even bothered calling? No one over there seemed to know anything. At least he knew that if they got to Christmas Eve without any decision, he wouldn’t have to worry about this again until early January. There would be a real riot if the whole government had to cancel their holidays.

Just then, a footman knocked on his open door.

“This was just delivered for you, sir.” The footman handed him a folded piece of paper, and he flipped it open.

Mr. Hudson,

Would you do me the honor of gracing Sycamore Cottage with the pleasure of your company on the evening of Christmas Eve? Ms. Madeleine Forest, Julia Pepper, James Dogal, the rest of the Sycamore Cottage staff, and I would all be delighted for you to join our Christmas Eve festivities.

Kind regards,

Vivian Forest

He read her note twice and realized how big the smile was on his face. He immediately reached for his notepad.

Ms. Forest,

I accept your invitation with pleasure. Would you do me the honour of riding with me again tomorrow? This time, we could even go outside the fences, if that idea is acceptable to you.

Sincerely,

Malcolm Hudson

He buzzed for someone to deliver his letter to Sycamore Cottage.

When he got back to his office after his meeting with the Queen, another note was on his desk.

Mr. Hudson,

Nothing would delight me more than to further my acquaintance with Polly. I look forward to welcoming you tomorrow at 2 p.m., if that time is acceptable to you. I cannot guarantee it, but there may be scones here to greet you.

Kind regards,

Vivian Forest

He grinned down at the paper. Vivian had asked him the day before if he was married, and this minor interaction with her made him so relieved he wasn’t anymore. His ex-wife had always been irritated with him when he dropped his work facade to joke around with Miles, or to attempt to joke around with her. She certainly never would have written him notes like this, which he could tell amused both him and Vivian very much.

As he reached for stationery to write Vivian back, his phone lit up with a text from his nephew.

When do you get back to London? Mum is driving me batty. I wanted to escape and hide at your flat but I didn’t know if you were going to be there. Plus I can’t wait to tell you my news!

Malcolm laughed. Like a true teenager, Miles only texted him when he needed something from him.

He felt a pang of guilt that he’d just decided not to go back to London until Christmas Day so he could have Christmas Eve dinner with Vivian. He quickly brushed the guilt away. Miles could deal with his mother, and his news would keep, whatever it was.

Ms. Forest,

Scones would be very welcome, and if you please, could you save me some of the sandwiches this time? Smoked salmon is my favourite, but I’ll happily eat any sandwich prepared by Ms. Julia Pepper.

All my best,

Malcolm Hudson

He got another note from her less than an hour later, scrawled a response and slid it into an envelope. He reached for the phone to summon a footman again but hesitated. The staff was awfully busy today, and running notes back and forth for him to a cottage a fifteen-minute walk away really wasn’t their job.

He glanced at the clock. He’d been sitting at his desk for almost four hours at this point anyway; he needed to stretch his legs.

He pulled on his coat. This one, he could deliver himself.

Vivian was curled up in the most comfortable chair in