The Royals Series

by Bay, Louise

  “A similar size and specification in Fitzrovia would be more like three to four,” Martha said. “And Bloomsbury is even more affordable. Or we can look at something that might need a little more work, which would bring it down significantly. Shall we extend our search area? Many people are starting to move out of Mayfair.”

  People might be moving out of Mayfair but that didn’t mean I would. I liked being so central. Convenience was key. “I don’t want to do work or spend more than ten. I’d prefer freehold or a long lease. That’s something I won’t compromise on.”

  Martha didn’t flinch. “I’m sure I can find something for you that will work. In fact, I have a couple of things in mind. Give me a few minutes while I arrange a couple of viewings.”

  As Martha walked away, Violet took in a deep breath.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “It’s stupid expensive around here.” She glanced out of the window.

  “New York’s no better—it’s the cost of living in the city.”

  “Well, I live in New York and I’m not paying ten million cents for the places I rent.”

  “Have you kept your place on while you’re over here?” Was she desperate to get back home? I didn’t think about her stay in London as temporary—was I taking too much for granted?

  “No way.”

  “So what will you do when you go back?” I wanted to ask her how long she planned to stay. Her extended contract in chambers lasted until the end of January, but what would happen after that? I didn’t want to push her, though. I wanted her to open up to me. Share things.

  She began to pick at her thumbnail. “Not sure. Stay with Scarlett and Ryder for a while.”

  She wouldn’t meet my gaze, and I wanted to ask her what was wrong but before I got a chance, Martha was back.

  “I’ve just confirmed a few places are still available—they’re in easy walking distance. Are you ready to go?”

  The rain had stopped, and as we got out onto the pavement I slipped my hand into Violet’s and we walked behind Martha silently—both with too much on our minds. Was she homesick or just horrified by real estate prices in Mayfair? I could understand both, but do nothing about either. Was she thinking about what she’d do when she got back to New York or whether she could extend her stay in London past six months? If Martha hadn’t been with us perhaps I’d ask her, but for now, I’d settle for her being with me.

  “I want your honest opinion, okay?” I told Violet as we approached the first place.

  She glanced up at me and grinned.

  As we walked in, Violet dropped my hand.

  “It’s newly renovated. Solid-oak, herringbone floors, three bedrooms, three bathrooms. Italian marble in the kitchen, integrated sound system. Twenty-four-hour porter.” Martha’s voice faded into the background as I watched Violet look over the flat. She inspected every corner in great detail from the floor to the ceiling and from the kitchen to the broom cupboard. Her face didn’t give anything away, which was unusual. Normally I could immediately tell if she approved or disapproved of something I’d said or something someone else had done. I followed her around, failing to take in my surroundings, just more and more interested in what Violet thought.

  “The third bedroom is the perfect size for a nursery,” Martha said, opening the door to a small bedroom that overlooked the square. “And of course, the park is wonderful for children.”

  Did I look as if I was verging on procreating? Perhaps she thought it was the reason for the move. Martha couldn’t know I was a selfish workaholic who had left his wife when she’d started talking about kids. Martha didn’t understand that I didn’t stay most nights with Violet because I had a habit of getting up in the early hours and clearing down my emails.

  Like Gabby had said, nothing had changed—single or married, married or divorced. And that was how I wanted it, wasn’t it? I was flat hunting for a place that would be empty eighteen hours a day, every day. Where there’d be nothing in the fridge and only my clothes in the wardrobe.

  “So, what are your first impressions?” Martha asked, looking at me.

  I glanced at Violet. “What do you think?”

  “I think the third bedroom is too small. You spend a lot of time working. There isn’t enough space for you in there, and if you took the second bedroom as a study then the third isn’t big enough for a guest bed. The master en suite doesn’t have dual sinks or a separate shower, and I think that could impact resale.” Violet sighed. “It’s also overpriced by about two hundred and fifty pounds a square foot for the area.” She put her hand on her hip and glanced around again. “But I like the ceiling height and the views. I just don’t think this is it. Maybe we should look at a mews house to compare. Plus I want to see inside one. We Americans don’t have many houses left that were built three hundred years ago and shared with horses. I can’t decide whether the horses were super lucky or the humans were just slumming it and I want to see for myself.”

  My God she was cute, sexy, and smart. And so caring.

  I didn’t have to think about what I needed from a house because Violet had done it for me.

  “I have a mews house lined up,” Martha said. “And a duplex. Shall we move on?” She turned and headed toward the exit.

  Violet grinned as if to say You thought I wouldn’t do my homework?

  I had no reply but the beginning of a raging hard-on for this girl who was clever and prepared and considered everything I needed before I even knew what that was myself. She was always like that—the picnic in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, the junior sharing my office. She cared about me and my needs and I wanted to do the same for her. I wanted her to feel as special as she made me feel.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Violet

  “This isn’t shopping, it’s hell!” I yelled at Darcy, who was plowing ahead in front of me while people coming from the opposite direction were banging into me on either side.

  She dipped down a side street and I followed, but not before getting cursed at by a man wearing a t-shirt that didn’t quite cover his belly. Given it was mid-November and freezing, I couldn’t be mad because he was sure to be dead from hypothermia by the end of the day.

  “Christmas shopping season has started in earnest—I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Darcy said.

  “But it’s not even Thanksgiving until next week.”

  Darcy pushed my shoulder “But you’re not in America. You get that we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, don’t you?”

  “I’m in denial about it, and anyway, you’ll be celebrating because we’re all going to be in Woolton.”

  She beckoned me into a shop. “I can’t wait, actually. I found a place that sells yams.”

  “We just use sweet potatoes,” I replied, stepping up through the door.

  Darcy rolled her eyes. “Now you tell me. I’ve spent hours trying to track them down. And you really eat them with marshmallows?”

  “Sure. Candied yams.”

  She shook her head. “If you say so.”

  “I’m sorry but no one in Britain can complain about candied yams when you people eat Marmite. I mean that stuff is heinous. It smells like fermented rat poop. Looks like it too.”

  “It’s really good for you,” she replied, acting as if it were totally no big deal to be spreading poop over toast in the morning.

  “I don’t care if it makes me look like Charlize Theron. It’s disgusting.” I glanced around at the sparse rails and gleaming white floors and ceilings. The place looked expensive, but then most places Darcy shopped in were out of my price range. “You promised me Forever 21,” I said.

  “It’s further up. This place has great stuff.”

  Surreptitiously, I picked up one of the labels hanging off the sleeve of an ordinary-looking t-shirt. A hundred bucks? In another life, maybe.

  “You’ve told me nothing about all the boys you’re shagging,” Darcy said as she trailed her fingers over the rack.

  “Shagging?” I laughed. “Y
eah, not many boys. But lots of kissing.”

  Darcy looked at me from over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m kinda dating someone. Like, I have a boyfriend.”

  She put back the trousers she’d just reached for and turned to me, a huge grin on her face. “You have a boyfriend—I thought you didn’t believe in those? When did this happen?”

  “I’m not quite sure how it happened.”

  “How did you meet? What does he do? You have to tell me everything.”

  “He’s a barrister in chambers. It started off as a lust thing.” I shrugged. “And I don’t know, it morphed into something more. He’s not like other guys. He feels more like a man. A grown-up—you know.”

  “I’ve never heard you talk about any man without a hint of contempt in your voice, not even your brother.” She turned back to the rail, moving each hanger with a swipe. “It sounds like you really like this guy.”

  “Well Max deserves all the contempt I dish up, but Alexander’s just a bit misunderstood. He’s spiky on the outside, but he’s kinda great when you get to know him—full of integrity and honor and super smart. I enjoy spending time with him. He makes me laugh, even if he doesn’t mean to.”

  “It sounds serious,” she said. “We get to meet him at the weekend, right? He’s coming up to Woolton?”

  I frowned. There was no way I’d invite Alexander. “God, no. He’d never take the time off work.”

  Darcy pulled out a blouse, inspected it on both sides, then shoved it back on the rail. “You’ve not asked him?”

  “There’s no point. I know he’d say no.”

  “But you’d like him to come?” she asked.

  “I haven’t thought about it,” I lied. “You know me. I don’t make plans with men.” I didn’t want to put Alexander in a position where he felt he was letting me down or not giving me enough time. And anyway, why would he want to meet my family? It was too much. Too serious. I’d be back in the US by the end of January and he’d still be here, working himself into oblivion. Our expiration date was looming. Even my extended contract had only bought us a few months and I didn’t want to integrate our lives any more than they already were. I’d leave London in a few weeks, and Alexander with it.

  “I’d love to meet him. He sounds perfect for you if he’s ‘spiky’ on the outside but misunderstood. You pretend you don’t care, but I’m not buying what you’re selling anymore.”

  I laughed. “I never said I didn’t care. Anyway, we’re not talking about me. Alexander’s far from perfect. He has a short temper and never says anything nice just to keep the peace.” But he had a kind and generous heart and a wicked smile.

  She paused at the rack and turned to me. “It sounds like you might have met your match. I’ve never known you to dial down an argument—you and Scarlett bicker constantly.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s because Scarlett’s always wrong.”

  She smiled. “I rest my case.”

  I looked through the rack in front of me. Hopefully Darcy would do the same and get distracted. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore because it reminded me that we didn’t have long left—that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t make plans for a future with this man.

  “You could just invite him. Tell him that you don’t expect him to say yes. You never know, he might be offended if you don’t ask him.”

  “I doubt it. He’s happy when he’s working. He’s not the type to enjoy making polite conversation with a bunch of strangers.” There was no way that Alexander would come to a Thanksgiving dinner in the country out of choice, and I didn’t want him to do anything just to make me happy. I’d start to rely on him, expect things from him, and that could only lead to trouble.

  “Hey,” Darcy objected, focusing all her attention on me.

  “Well, you are a bunch of strangers to him. Just because you’re all my favorite people doesn’t change that.”

  “I don’t see what you’ve got to lose by extending the invitation to him.”

  “You’re pushy for someone so little,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

  She grinned proudly. “I know. I really want to meet this guy. If you can find love, it gives me hope.”

  “It’s not love,” I scoffed. “It’s so not love, you lunatic.”

  “What is it then?” she asked, holding an electric blue shift dress up to my body and shaking her head.

  “It’s good sex.” But even I knew it was more than that. It felt like the real thing. Like something that wasn’t all about the moment, but something I could imagine in the future. “And I told you, he makes me laugh.” There were so many things I liked about Alexander. His integrity and the way he’d never said anything bad about his ex-wife. The way he’d said yes to my picnic even though I was sure it was his idea of hell. The way that if he was in the office he’d always call me just before I went to bed to wish me sweet dreams. The thoughtfulness of the gifts he had delivered to me at work. The way his grumpy, concentrating face turned into a smile when he saw me. He made me feel good. He made me feel smart. And he was loyal and decent. He’d never, ever do what David did to me.

  It so wasn’t just good sex.

  Fuck.

  “So, invite him. He can make us all laugh.”

  “He’s not a circus monkey.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll think about it. But only if we can go to Forever 21.”

  I wanted to stop contemplating all the things I liked about Knightley. I hadn’t been looking for anything other than a kiss and a cocktail when I’d come to London. I certainly hadn’t been looking for a boyfriend or a career. I wasn’t here to find someone to introduce to my family. I didn’t want to get attached to someone I would pine for when I went home. But at the same time I was going to be out of London for four days and already I’d miss him. We didn’t have long left, and I wanted to make the most of the time I had with him.

  I’d ask him to Thanksgiving. He’d say no because he knew the score. He knew everything we weren’t. Then it would be over with, and I’d stop thinking about him in terms of the future and keep him in the present.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alexander

  I’d finally agreed to have a junior barrister in my office. As usual, it had been a selfish decision—ultimately it would assist me in progressing the cases I took on if I learned to work with juniors.

  I smiled at the knock on the door. Not only was she persuasive, Violet King seemed to know everyone’s movements at all times. She never came into my office when my roommate, Sebastian, was there. He’d left about ten minutes ago.

  “Come in,” I replied.

  She slipped in quickly. “You have to bark more when you say it. Otherwise people will suspect something. Anyway, how did you know it was me?”

  I chuckled. “You’re ridiculous. What do you want?”

  “I see Mr. Charm has returned. I’m going out for my lunch and just wondered if I could get you anything?”

  I leaned back in my chair. “Actually, I’ll come with you. I need to stretch my legs.”

  “I’m not going straight to get food,” she said, a slightly panicked look on her face. “I’m going to a museum first. But I’ll be back in an hour if you want me to get you something.”

  It struck me that Violet had a secret life that went on without me while I was working. She’d mentioned that she’d gone to the Museum of London a couple of weeks ago, but this was clearly a regular thing. I found myself a little envious, both that she had the time to take herself off and spend her time as she wished and that her time wasn’t spent with me. “Why don’t I come with you?” I asked.

  “To the museum?” She frowned as if she’d misheard me.

  “Yeah. Where are you going?”

  “Some dude’s house just over there.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Sir John something.”

  “Soane.”

  “So, you’ve been. You don’t want to go again, do you?”

  Sir John Soane’s museum had been
one of my favorite places to go when I was junior, concerned that I’d never have enough work or have the career my father did. It had been a welcome distraction, something that reminded me that building a career, a legacy, was a life’s work and not something that happened overnight. “I’ve not been for ages. I’d love to go.”

  “You have time?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a junior now.”

  She grinned. “Is he helping?”

  I winced. “Jury’s out. I think we both need time to adjust. But I’m in the mood to carpe some of this diem with you.”

  She grinned and blew me a kiss. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

  It felt good to see her happy, even better that I’d been the cause. I couldn’t remember ever having this warm feeling in my stomach because I’d made Gabby happy. Perhaps because I never did.

  I pulled on my coat, scarf, and gloves and headed out of chambers toward the Fields. A prolific architect, Sir John Soane designed and built his house as part home, part school, part showcase for his clients. It was stuffed full of interesting art and architecture.

  I grinned despite the biting chill of the wind. Six months ago, the idea of going to a museum at lunchtime would have been ludicrous. The notion of having a girlfriend laughable. But here I was, heading toward Sir John Soane’s museum to meet Violet.

  She came into view, leaning against the cast-iron railings, her nose buried in something she was reading. Her hair fanned out over the shoulders of her coat that was the same glossy black as the railings and contrasted with her pale skin, pinked by the cold. She had that timeless beauty that would have been just as revered in the eighteenth century when the house was newly built as it was now.

  “I like your hat,” I said as I approached her, tugging at the pale pink beret she had on, which picked up the rosiness in her cheeks.

  “Hi,” she replied, beaming at me. My breath caught. I was so lucky I got to spend my lunchtime with this woman.