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“It’s not that. It’s this tiresome American management consultant come to upend Morneau. I can tell that she’s going to be very... time-consuming.”
“Well, if you need any help, you need only call on me. I can come down for a few days and you can put me to work.”
“But what excuse would you use?” Wait. “Have you told Mr. von Hansburg about the Christmas baskets?” Matteo understood that he couldn’t very well ask Torkel to keep secrets from his partner, but the fewer people who knew about the baskets, the better. That number was currently three—possibly four—and he strongly preferred to keep it that way.
“I haven’t. And I’d think of something.”
“Well, we don’t need you. We have it in hand. Now, back to your proposal.”
“Right. I was thinking about how you were responsible for getting the princess and Leo together, and about how you helped Daniela and Max after the late duke died. I don’t need that much help. I just need... an idea.”
“Allow me to give the matter some thought.”
“Thank you.” Torkel paused. “How are you?”
Tired. He always was this time of year, but this was more than that. He felt existentially tired, though he wasn’t sure why. Nothingabout this year was different from any of the previous, except of course the presence of Ms. Cara Delaney. But being visited by a corporate-goth management consultant bent on dismantling Morneau, while annoying, was not a sufficient explanation for this degree of weariness.
“I’m fine,” he said in answer to Torkel’s question, and he even sounded reasonably convincing. “Life unfolds apace.”
“As it always does with you at the helm.”
“Mmm.”
After they hung up, Matteo loosened his tie, took his scotch, such as it was, to the window, and tried to put his mind to Torkel’s proposal, but thoughts of Ms. Delaney intruded. Matteo’s apartment, at the top of the original stable, faced west, and the days were so short now that the sun was already starting to set even though it wasn’t yet five o’clock. Sunset over the mountains was always spectacular, and he made a point to observe it as often as he could. He cued up a record and sank into the chair he kept angled next to the window for this very purpose. He should have told Ms. Delaney to look for the sunset out her windows. He had told Frau Lehman to put her in the green-wing guest room specifically because it faced west. Not alerting Ms. Delaney to the wonders that lay outside her window hadn’t been very hospitable of him.
Neither had been taking his leave earlier without so much as a goodbye. Or the several occasions when he’d been snappish with her.
Rolling his neck, he made a conscious effort to relax his tight jaw and let the soothing sounds of Sarah Vaughan wash over him as he savored his thimbleful of scotch.
Scotch didn’t taste very good with a side of guilt.
Inhospitality was not something to be proud of. Mother had drilled that into Matteo and his siblings.Share what you have. Make people feel comfortable. Kindness costs nothing.
But, he argued with himself, it wasn’t his job, at this moment, to make Ms. Delaney feel comfortable. The king had asked him to welcome her, and he had done that. Going personally to the airport to collect her had already been above and beyond the call of duty. Ernst and Frau Lehman had assumed guardianship of her. They would make sure she knew how to order food or put out her clothes to be laundered.
But would they tell her—or show her—how to get down to the village? Would they offer her horseback riding or anything else to do? Shehadasked him what there was to do on the weekends.
He yawned. He was sotired.
Like she was.
Would she fall asleep in her room right away? Would she order anything to eat before she did? And if she didn’t, would Frau Lehman send a footman to check on her?
He disliked thinking of her rattling around that huge, mostly empty palace by herself, even if he dislikedher.
It was confusing.
Shewas confusing.
Damn it. He sighed, and, half against his will, stood and tightened his tie.
Cara had finished all of two sudokus before her brain was back trying to figure out the mystery that was Mr. Benz. He didn’t want her here, and she was leaning toward resistance to her mission rather than misogyny as the reason. Either way, he had clearlywashed his hands of her until his boss, aka the king, was back on the scene, and he would probably be less than no help next week.
Which was fine. Even though she hadn’t gotten any useful information out of him, knowing where she stood with him was its own kind of useful information.
But when she answered a knock on her door to find him standing there, she had to admit she’d been wrong. The man remained an enigma.
“Ms. Delaney, I was going to walk down the hill to the Owl and Spruce in the village, and I wondered if you’d care to join me.”
