Caroline blushed. “Did I? I don’t recall.”
“Yes. You said that’s what girlfriends and boyfriends do for each other.”
“Huh. Really?”
“So you’d call yourself Darcy’s girlfriend, then?”
“Oh, puh-lease. Maybe I would have thought eventually perhaps he’d have been my boyfriend, but no way! That’s not how I roll.”
“I see. So he’d have maybe been your boyfriend. But you wouldn’t have been his girlfriend.”
Caroline went around the room, picking up her dirty clothes and straightening up her shoes. All two pairs of them. “I don’t know. Why does it matter? It’s a moot point anyhow. We aren’t that to each other, so there you have it.”
“Well, sweetie. That’s probably because the poor man has been preoccupied. I’m sure he hasn’t had a chance to think about a thing. I mean, goodness, imagine what he’s been through. I feel bad that we haven’t even been there for him. Adrian was so overwhelmed with his travels, and I, well I’ve been of no use, so caught up in my own things.”
“It happens,” Caroline said. “No sense beating yourself up over it.”
“Funeral’s in two days,” Emma said, arching her brow. “You interested in joining us?”
“Would it be weird if I came along?” she asked. “Although it might be even stranger for me to hang out here all alone without you. So, uh, yeah, I guess I’ll come along.”
“In the meantime, I’ve arranged for Gareth to provide the grand tour of our palace apartment with you so you can start noodling on ideas for fixing the place up and making it home,” Emma said. “I’ve got to be out for a few hours, but I’m sure you two can figure things out.”
Caroline rubbed her hands together. “Perfect. If it’s half as fun as lunch was with Gareth, I should be perfectly entertained in your absence.”
~*~
Gareth slid his hand into the crook of Caroline’s arm, ushering her into the receiving hall of Apartment One, currently a fairly dingy, nearly windowless room with a few closet doors offsetting some once-glorious wood paneling. The wood wall treatments at least had some bones, with lovely triple-crown molding and wainscoting throughout. It wouldn’t take much of anything to make this room shine. They’d think her a hero without her having done a damned thing—all she’d need to do is add some paint and some subtle lighting, and it would improve the place tenfold.
“Put in some houndstooth wingback chairs and a decorative umbrella stand,” Caroline said, pointing near the doorway. “Maybe a couple of cute dogs for props. Make those whitewashed walls a burnished mahogany. That intricate cornicing will look fantastic once it’s cleaned up and repainted.”
Caroline was going to enjoy dabbling with someone else’s money on a decorating assignment. She was the only girl she knew while growing up who couldn’t wait for the latest issue of Architectural Digest to be on the newsstand. Crazy, being able to use what she thought was a useless stash of knowledge in such a grandiose (not to mention who’d have thunk?) way.
Gareth and Caroline went room by room, making notes as they went.
“I saw a gorgeous black leather king-sized bed when I was doing some research,” Gareth said as they entered the master bedroom. “It was spectacular, with brass grommets.”
“Oooh, with maybe a neutral duvet in a pale mocha, some bright purple throws for accents.”
The room had a large fireplace that took up the better part of one wall.
“What about some cozy lounge chairs, in maybe magenta, covered with animal-print pillows so they could relax by the fire on a cold winter’s evening?” Gareth crossed his arms, taking it all in.
“What do you think about tweed curtains to pull it all together?” Caroline said.
“Love it. Come on. Let’s move on to the next room.”
They followed a long, elegant repeating-arched hallway and arrived at a guest bedroom with a granite fireplace.
They both agreed that a green tartan plaid with claret accents would be perfect.
For the guest bathroom they went with a nautical theme, deciding upon whitewashed beadboard capped with chair railing and a sailcloth shower curtain.
The main entertaining room featured large open fireplaces and huge windows overlooking the extensive gardens below. They agreed to a blend of antique and modern furniture and decided to stick with neutral tones for window treatments, maybe a simple herringbone pattern in neutral on neutral. They decided to worry later about the top floor, where staff would be housed, and the bottom floor, where the gym and laundry facilities would be located.
“This wing of the palace, to be honest, has seen better days,” Gareth said. “It fell into complete disrepair because there simply was no need for it. I think the last occupant was the queen’s mother’s sister.”
“Cue the American princess wannabe with the can-do spirit and dump it on her?” Caroline said with a grin.
“More like ‘what a perfect time to rehabilitate that musty old corner of the grounds.’”
“Musty indeed,” Caroline said, noticing the damp aroma that permeated the air.
“Not to worry. We’ll have this place shipshape in no time,” Gareth said. “With your vision and my ability to crack the whip around here, we’ll have workers on the graveyard shift getting this place ready for His Royal Highness and his bride.”
“His bride...,” Caroline said, having not truly considered her dear friend as the bride of the prince, even in the face of plenty of evidence. Her Emma had changed horses midstream, had gone from a do-your-own-thing kind of girl to a follow-royal-protocol-and-live-in-a-palace kinda gal. Damn, love sure was blind. But in truth, who could blame her? If Caroline were to be honest with herself, she’d sure as hell trade places with her friend in a heartbeat, if only she could swap out Adrian for Darcy in the process. Caroline grimaced.
“Something wrong?” Gareth said. “You look like you just got some bad news.”
“I guess. I don’t know. It’s not my bad news, just someone I know a little bit.”
“Would it help to talk about it?”
Caroline laughed. “Honestly I don’t even know. I’m not sure if I’m even supposed to care, is the thing.”
“Oookay, then,” Gareth said, drawing out his words as if contemplating it a bit. “So to recap: you’re troubled about something, but you don’t know if you’re allowed to be troubled about something because it’s something that affects someone else who is troubled by it. All of which is troubling.”
Caroline stared at him for a second, then broke out into laughter. “I guess that sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
He nodded.
“I suppose it would be rude at this point to not at least give you the short version of things.” She went back over her story, made simpler because at least Gareth knew the background of Emma and Adrian in the States.
“Aha,” he said. “I get it. So you’re positively mad for Darcy, who seemingly dropped out of civilization, and you don’t know whether to take this personally or whether he even has thought about you or whether you should insert yourself into his life right now or whether the last thing he needs is more complications.”
“All that whether together makes for stormy weather,” she said with a grim smile. “I’m not sure how I’m even supposed to act around him. I mean, it’s his father’s funeral. Filled with his relatives, none of whom I know. And here I am, this surprise guest at this most somber of occasions. Should I not even go? Or should I hide in the background beneath one of those enormous hats you people wear?”
“I don’t wear them!”
“Yes, but your women do. In spades.”
“Because they’re so chic,” he said.
“Fine, but chic has never been used to describe me. I’m more like a chick, not chic. Besides, I’m not sure I’d even know how to keep one of those radar-dish things on my head. Argh. So many questions, absolutely no clue about right from wrong.” She rested her elbow on her hand and tapped on her to
oth with her finger. “Right from wrong. Protocol. And you’re the protocol person. Of course!”
“You don’t want to hear about it from a protocol perspective.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d be forced to tell you to stay home: you’re not invited, and it would be entirely inappropriate to show up,” he said. “But I’m looking at these mournful doe eyes of yours; they’re watering up, and they look like sea glass in a tide pool with all those tears welling in them, and God, I shouldn’t be, but for some reason I’m a sucker for a woman with an aching heart. Everything about it just screams makeover, and I love a good makeover, even if it’s just an emotional one.” He rubbed his hands, clearly relishing the opportunity.
“So you think it’s okay if I go?”
“Absolutely not. But I think you want to go. And I think you need a beautiful fascinator and something elegantly black, and I am your man to help you in a pinch.”
“So the palace apartments can wait a little longer?”
“No choice in the matter, my dear. Beauty and fashion call.”
Chapter Eleven
CAROLINE loved that she had a huge black hat to hide behind. The cathedral was practically standing room only, so with a little luck and a giant Frisbee cocked over her right eye with tastefully placed black netting over her face, maybe she could tuck away and spy on the event while remaining completely undetected. The perfect scenario. Only Emma wouldn’t have it.
“Psssst! Get over here!” Emma said, reaching for her friend’s elbow as they walked down the center aisle of the church. Adrian greeted and nodded and made nice beside Emma, who was focused on ensuring her friend got close enough to perhaps make some eye contact with her eye candy. Totally inappropriate to use a funeral as a fishing expedition, but hey, sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
Naturally, they would be seated at the front of the cathedral, one of those Gothic numbers with flying buttresses and stunning stained-glass windows. The late-day sun streamed through the spectacular rose window, scattering colors throughout the stone interior, warming up an otherwise-somewhat-cold environment. Elaborate stone mullions and tracery separated the glass into their own works of art throughout the church. It was a breathtaking environment, and for a minute, Caroline forgot she was there for a most somber occasion. As she walked down the aisle, she made a point of stepping on colored dabs of light along the stone walkway, sort of the opposite of step on a crack, break your mother’s back. It seemed it would only be a good thing to follow such a beautiful pathway.
As they took their seats, a deep swell of organ music rumbled to life, and from the back began a procession befitting a lord of royal background. Darcy and people Caroline assumed were his immediate family, heretofore missing, walked down the center aisle, led by a bishop clad in black robes, eyes cast low as they ambled toward the coffin placed high at the altar and draped with the flag of Monaforte.
Caroline couldn’t take her eyes off Darcy, whose face looked drawn and tired, but who still made her heart beat faster by his mere presence. She could barely remember the rest of the service, so focused was she on avoiding eye contact with Darcy while staring at him to the point of obsession.
Emma leaned over. “Have you rehearsed what you’re going to say to the man?”
Caroline shook her head. “I’m not going to say boo to the guy. Especially since I shouldn’t even be here.”
Emma nodded slightly. “Trust me, I’m pretty sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
“I’m avoiding that as much as possible. I’d feel like a weirdo!”
“I’m certain he already knows you’re that.” Emma smiled.
As the service drew to a close and the family followed the casket out of the cathedral to the waiting hearse, Darcy glanced over toward Adrian and nodded. And as he turned to look away, his eyes caught Caroline’s for a brief second and grew large before he knit his brows and looked away.
“Oh my God. Did you see that?” she said to Emma. “He saw me and he looked away. He was shocked and disappointed that I was here.”
“I know Darcy enough to comfortably say he wasn’t disappointed,” her friend said. “Maybe it was just complete shock. I mean I’m sure you’re just about the last person on the planet he’d expect to see here.”
“Yeah, but when Adrian saw you at the Santa Christus gingerbread house gorge-fest, he was nothing but thrilled.”
“Yes,” Emma said, tapping her friend on the nose. “But that was a happy national holiday. This is a much more solemn event. I’m sure Darcy is focused on grieving. Plus he’s a guy: they can only do one thing at a time. I would wager that his brain is in a war with itself: grieve the loss of his father, cheer that Caroline is here, grieve the loss of his father, cheer that Caroline is here. There’s probably a veritable moral dilemma tug-of-war happening in his frontal lobe as we speak.”
Caroline shook her head. “You are so strange.”
Emma smiled. “Of course I am. Otherwise how else would two such similar people be drawn together, you strange, strange friend of mine?”
They hugged as they followed down the aisle into the hot August evening.
~*~
The burial was conducted at the family graveyard on the vast Weltenham estate, a breathtaking property with views of the Mediterranean on one side and still-snow-capped mountains on the other. Caroline’s heart ached to see tears streaming down Darcy’s cheeks and to watch his mother cling to him and his sister and brother, wailing as they walked away from the family patriarch for the final time.
Guests were invited back to the manor home afterward, and against her better judgment—and since she had no other way back to the palace—Caroline agreed to join Emma and Adrian, who had gone ahead of them and caught up with Darcy where they walked arm in arm, lost in deep conversation.
The Tudor-style home, featuring gorgeous patterned brickwork and white plaster with decorative half timbering, had a classic steep cross-gabled roofline with several heavy fireplaces, all capped with decorative chimney pots. It could have been a medieval palace.
“What is with these houses and a bazillion fireplaces?” Caroline whispered to Emma as they walked the patterned-brick walkway to the front entryway.
“I think it has to do with people didn’t like to be cold all winter long when they built these houses a couple of hundred years ago,” Emma said.
Caroline thought about that for a second. “Oh yeah! Good point. I forget that back home our houses started out with heating and air-conditioning.”
“Yep. And think about these places—they were hot in the summertime and bitterly cold in the winter. So they needed all those fireplaces.”
“And people who keep them now can afford to have fires going in five different fireplaces at a time. Like you!” Caroline gave her Emma a friendly swat on the behind.
“Stop! I feel weird enough going from Suburbia Sue to Palatial Patty. Don’t make me feel even more awkward.”
“Ya gotta embrace it, Ems. It’s your life now, so take the ball and run with it.”
“Who’s playing ball?” a voice behind them said.
Caroline turned around to see Gareth holding three glasses of wine, two of which he passed to the women.
“Black looks stunning with that head of hair,” he said to Caroline. “Doesn’t she look amazing, Emma?”
Emma gave Caroline the once-over, even though of course they’d already discussed her outfit for the day ad nauseam. “Glorious,” she said, half joking.
“Emma is just jealous that I had the man with the best clothing taste in the country on hand to select my outfit.”
Gareth reached out and took Caroline’s hands in his. “Darling, with a model like you, we could make it a habit.”
Caroline practically beamed at the flattery, all the while glancing surreptitiously around and trying to spot Darcy, but the mourners had filled the entry hall and drawing room into which people had been directed, and for the life of her she co
uldn’t see past the thicket of people.
She hated that her prime opportunity to at least catch a better glimpse of Darcy was going to be for naught. But then she caught sight of Adrian, still next to Darcy, and both glancing her way. Only Darcy looked away so quickly it was as if he’d burned himself.
Fine, Caroline thought. If he’s going to treat me like an outsider, well, I’ll just focus on men who are interested in me. And she turned her undivided attention to Gareth, who was going on and on about her flying saucer hat as if he’d made it himself, sweet fellow.
Chapter Twelve
DARCY couldn’t decide whether to give in to his sorrow or do a little jig for joy. His father was gone; but he was certain he’d just seen Caroline.
Normally he’d just assume he was imagining things, but she was next to Adrian and Emma, so of course it had to be her.
Nevertheless, how could he even deal with Caroline at a time like this? He had to be the man of the manor now. He practically put the “man” in manor. Oh, he couldn’t be thinking in such idiotic joking ways anymore. Though he knew Caroline would laugh at that.
Just as he was lamenting his predicament, Adrian came over and pulled him aside, resting his hand on his shoulder.
“Jesus, Darcy, you are one impossible man to reach these days,” he said. “I’ll cut you some slack under the circumstances.”
“Kind of you, mate.”
“I’m still baffled about why you didn’t reach out to me. Here your father was dying and you didn’t get ahold of your best friend. I’m a little bit hurt, to tell the truth.”
Darcy scrubbed his hand over his face. “It’s hard to explain,” he said. “You just can’t imagine it until you’re in the middle of it. I spent my days and nights at the hospital; I just shut myself off from the rest of the world. I could only deal with one thing, and that was focusing on my father’s welfare. And then—”
“I’m so very sorry, Darcy,” Adrian said, giving his friend a hug. “I feel completely inadequate, having entirely botched this whole ‘be there when your friends need you most’ thing.”
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