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“Thanks, but I’ll give it a miss, if that’s okay.”
Why if that’s okay? Why was she asking permission to decline an invitation? Of course it was okay. She didn’t owe him anything. His ego was not her responsibility. She reminded herself of this while still smiling in a way that suggested an apology rather than refusal. At least she hadn’t lost her Britishness during her time away.
His eyebrows shot up, and then he nodded. “Oh, sure.”
Leaving it there would have been best, but with him still blocking her way, the silence stretched, and panic crept in. She didn’t want this to become a thing or for him to ask again after misinterpreting her politeness for uncertainty. She also didn’t want to have to keep sidestepping him for the rest of their time working together.
“I’m actually — ” she began, then faltered, her mouth moving faster than her brain. “I mean, I’m not really into men.”
Why not really?
Why couldn’t she just say she was a lesbian rather than letting him down gently? She had grown so used to keeping it under the radar for the past ten years, she’d almost forgotten she didn’t need to anymore.
He blinked, then frowned. “Oh. Really?” His eyes flicked over her, assessing her appearance. “You don’t look like a lesbian.”
What did that mean? She wondered if he thought she was lying. With no idea what to say or do that wouldn’t land her in a police cell overnight or jobless in the morning, she shrugged, knowing she still had to work with the guy.
“I’m going to get a head start,” she said, forcing herself forward into his space, hoping it would make him move aside. He stepped back, finally allowing her to pass. “I’ll see you at the grotto.”
“Yeah. Sure,” he grunted.
Relief flooded her as soon as she was out of the room. The thought of carrying on that conversation all the way to the grotto made her skin crawl; leaving now was the only sensible option.
As she made her way up from the basement, disappointment crept in for not calling Nathan out for his comment about the appearance of lesbians. It always fell on the woman to smooth over any awkwardness rather than raise an issue.
Lucie threaded her way through crowds of awestruck visitors in the decorated staterooms, wondering exactly what lesbians should look like. A family stopped her beside the grand staircase and asked if they could have a photo taken with her. She obliged, and as she stood grinning beside the American family and the four-metre Christmas tree, her eye caught a familiar, slow-moving figure. Stepping away from the family and their endless expressions of gratitude, she approached cautiously.
“Hi, Rose.”
Rose stopped and looked at her, her face frozen for a minute in thought.
“You’re an elf.”
“Yes, we met yesterday. I helped you home.”
She frowned and thought for a moment. “I’m going home now.” Looking around, she added, “Though I can’t remember the way. It’s upstairs somewhere, I’m sure of it.” She hesitated, then added, almost apologetically, “I used to know my way around.”
Rose had previously mentioned her home wasn’t quite the same as living in the hall. After what Sue had said the night before, it was now clear that Rose had meant her current home literally wasn’t the same as her old one — the hall. That was true enough; they were incomparable.
“I can help you home to Holly Court, Rose. You showed me the way last night.”
Rose looked around again and then nodded.
Placing an arm around her shoulders, Lucie gently guided her away from the visitors who were beginning to stare at them. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene, and she prayed Rose would trust her.
Recalling Rose had previously mentioned the West End, she decided a bit of distraction might be in order as they slowly walked through the remaining staterooms.
“What’s your favourite musical, Rose?”
“Oh, My Fair Lady. I was going to perform in it once on Broadway.”
“Wow. As whom?”
A grin formed across Rose’s face as she replied, “Eliza Doolittle, of course. I never got the chance.”
Lucie’s jaw slackened. “What? Why? That must have been an amazing opportunity.”
“Winterbourne. Your grandfather had just died, and so your father and I had to come and live here. I love looking after it... but I’ll always miss the stage.”
