“He could stay with us in Duke Street. We are only a five-minute walk from here,” said Erika.
The count had his hand partly raised, looking for all the world like he was going to protest, but the baron beat him to the punch. “That is an excellent proposal, Countess Erika. There is only the two of you at your house.”
Christian turned to the count. “That would be a wonderful idea. I am sure the King will be most grateful to hear that you are doing everything to assist me in representing his interests and that of Sweden. But if it is a problem then I shall go and stay in a hotel.”
He caught the hint of a sly smile on Erika’s lips as her father hastily cleared his throat. “Well, of course it would be a privilege to have you stay with us. Will you be bringing the dog?” replied the count.
Christian smiled sweetly at him. “Freya belongs to Erika.”
“I don’t think your father is happy to see me.”
Erika softly sighed. Christian was right. Magnus did not seem at all pleased. She could, however, understand his reasons for being out of sorts. Having a member of the royal family suddenly appear on your doorstep, and then move into your already cramped home would set most people in a bad mood. The fact that the person in question was not the Lind brother the count had in mind to marry his daughter off to likely also had something to do with it.
But she wasn’t going to mention any of that to Christian. Privately, she was delighted with the unexpected events of the morning. “It’s not you. It’s the special box. He so looks forward to receiving it each month, and because it didn’t arrive on the ship, he is like a small child who has been promised sweet cake but only got boiled carrot,” she replied.
Christian squeezed between his bed and the travel trunk. From the bottom of his luggage, he retrieved the wood and leather-bound box and offered it to Erika. “Gustav asked me to give this to you. Or should I give it to your father?”
She frowned. “What is that?”
“The box. You said Magnus was upset about not receiving the box.”
She pointed at the box but didn’t take it. “Not that box, the good box. The one which arrives each month, full of treats from home. Some kind, thoughtful soul has been sending it for the best part of two years. Pappa is so excited when it arrives—as am I.”
“Oh, that.” Christian’s brow furrowed, and a pained expression appeared on his face. He oddly seemed most concerned about the special box.
“Perhaps our mysterious friend missed the boat, or they were busy. Hopefully next month they will be able to send it.” She had thrown out the flowers earlier that morning in the expectation of receiving a new bunch. Now her bedroom would have to be empty of the memories of her home for a little while.
I wonder if they are still in the compost pile in the garden. Perhaps I could retrieve them.
“I am so sorry, Erika. I didn’t miss the boat, but what I did do was forget the box. King Charles commanded me to leave for England at the earliest convenience and I was so busy packing and saying goodbyes that it completely slipped my mind,” he replied.
She stared at him, momentarily struck dumb. In lieu of the letters he hadn’t been able to mail, Christian had sent her and the count a thoughtful gift, every single month.
“It was you?”
He nodded. Christian glanced at the door, then crossed the floor and closed it. He turned, and their gazes met. The unspoken message between them was clear—this conversation might be seen by others as dangerous.
“As I told you at the dockside, I wanted to write to you, but my father forbade it. The idea of waiting all that time and not being able to at least send you something was impossible. That is when I came up with the idea of the box. No note, no name—just a gift from a friend,” he said.
“I would have loved to be able to send you a letter and let you know how much the gift meant to me. The flowers are beautiful, and so is the smile which sits on my father’s face when he opens that first bottle of Swedish vodka,” she replied.
Christian had reached out to her in the only way possible. Anonymously. All the time knowing that his generosity could not be acknowledged.
She blinked back tears. “Oh, Christian. How can I ever thank you? You brought so much joy into our lives.”
London might well be the center of Europe, but it was a cold, hard city with little love for the outsider. Whether he realized it or not, Christian had reached across the long miles and given her comfort and hope.
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Chapter Nine
“Try this. You might find it more to your liking.”
Christian put down his spoon and looked warily at the dish Erika had set before him. He wasn’t at all enamored with the appearance of it. It was yellow for a start. “What is it?”
“Chicken curry. It is a dish that the English brought back from India. It’s very nice, though a little spicy. Most food in this country is bland, but for some reason high society loves curry,” she replied.
The noon meal at the Jansson home was part of Christian’s training in all things English. Some days the food was quite palatable; others, he ended up going hungry. As far as he was concerned, whoever inventedtoad-in-the-holeshould have been taken out to a lonely spot on a snow-covered mountain and left there to rethink their life choices.
