“Of course, I know plenty of young eligible women whom you could marry. Girls who have been trained in the ways of the world. And who will do exactly as you ask, while turning a blind eye to any discreet liaisons you might wish to enjoy with more experienced women. Just let me know if you require them to be from titled families or if you are seeking an heiress.”
He had found the key to the kingdom. In order for him to gain entry to this secret world, Christian needed to find himself a wife.
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Chapter Thirteen
The following morning, Erika and Christian were standing in the narrow shop of Twining’s tea merchants in the Strand, sampling various brews.
“What about this one?” she asked.
Christian took the cup from her hand and sipped it. He screwed up his face and promptly gave it back. She stifled a laugh. He really was quite amusing when he wasn’t being so serious.
“Urgh. It’s bitter. I like my tea mild, even sweet. I don’t understand how the English are so obsessed with it. Everywhere I go I get offered tea,” he replied.
Erika nodded. In Sweden, a houseguest was offered vodka, then on occasion a cup of herbal tea. She had finally, reluctantly, accepted the fact that her country really didn’t understand how the whole pot-of-black-tea ritual worked.
“I know how you feel. England is not home. It took some getting used to things when we first arrived. The food, the drink—everything was different,” she said.
She missed many of the simple things she had taken for granted in Sweden. Everything from pickled herring to caviar, and good old hard Swedish cheese. The first few months in London had been a trial.
And then the boxes had started arriving with the diplomatic bags—treats from home that she now knew had been sent by Christian. His being in London was a mixed blessing. It was wonderful to see him, but it also meant that there would be no more presents arriving on the next boat.
Then again, she did have a backup plan.
“There are places here in London where you can get Swedish food. Well, at least food cooked in the Scandinavian way,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows and gave an encouraging half-smile. “Any sort of good old Swedish food would be a welcome change. I don’t mind the cuisine here, but still, I would love a plate of gravlax and some boiled potatoes.”
For the first time all morning, Christian finally seemed more like his usual self. On the walk over from Duke Street he had been clearly preoccupied, lost in his thoughts. Several times she had asked him a question, only to get silence in response.
Something had happened last night. And it had her worried.
It had been almost an hour before he finally sought her out in the supper room. And even then, he had been vague with his response when she’d asked him about his discussion with Lady Lynch. Erika might not be worldly when it came to matters of sex, but she had heard enough of the rumors to be well aware of the woman’s reputation. If Lady Lynch sunk her claws into Christian, she wasn’t sure she would be able to cope.
He was being so nice to Erika, that at times, she had to stop and remind herself that his sweet words to her were likely all in aid of his grand plan.
Compliments and attention are the currency of diplomats, he is here to do a job and you are simply a friendly face helping him to succeed.
Erika moved to the counter and paid for their purchases, refusing Christian’s kind offer to reimburse her. “It is my treat. A small thank you for all the wonderful gifts you sent Pappa and I over the past couple of years. And as a special show of my appreciation, I am going to take you over to Wapping where the majority of Swedes in London reside. I promise you a big plate of home-style food when we get there.”
Outside the shop, she untied Freya from the street railing while Christian hailed a hack. She badly needed some time alone with him to talk and try to get him to reveal what had transpired between Lady Lynch and himself last night. Erika’s nagging concern was that some of the changes in Christian might not necessarily have been for the better.
If he is planning on using sex to help get this trade deal, I want no part of it.
Erika gave directions as to where they were to go. London was a big city, but he was slowly getting comfortable with its layout. Whenever he got lost, Christian would simply use the River Thames to regain his bearings. His gaze tracked along the river as they made their way to Wapping. “I remember this area from when I first sailed into London with Freya. I will never forget the moment I set eyes on the imposing Tower of London. As a young boy, I had seen drawings of the White Tower, but I must be honest, nothing could prepare me for the experience of seeing it up close,” he said.
“Yes. It’s the part of the journey where you realize that you have truly arrived in England,” she replied.
The vista out the window slowly changed from the fine, wide streets of central London to the crowded narrow lanes and nooks around the docks. Christian shifted in his seat as the hack slowed and turned right, heading toward the river.
“This is Princes Square, home of many Swedes and Danes in London,” she said.
When his gaze fell on a tall multi-level turret, his heart leapt. Right in the middle of all this foreignness was a Swedish Lutheran church. “Can we please stop? I wish to go inside.”
Erika rapped on the window of the hack, and the driver pulled over to the side of the street. The carriage had barely come to a halt before Christian leapt out. He had taken three steps toward the high-railed enclosure before he caught himself and quickly raced back to help Erika down and onto the stone pavement.
“They built it last century. It has a small but dedicated congregation. Pappa and I come here once a month for the services,” she said.
