“Do you have a brother?”
“No, I have your uncle.” The words spilled out, and she wished she could stuff them back in, but it was too late. Lucas was beside her, trying—unsuccessfully—not to laugh.
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” she insisted.
“I take my humility responsibilities quite seriously,” he said.
“Hello, Lucas.” A polished-looking woman stepped up to his side. She was dressed in a tailored black pantsuit and wore a silver necklace. Her long hair was a dark brown, perfectly straight. “Who is this?” she asked.
“My colleague and friend,” he explained. “Quenby Vaughn.”
“I’m Anabelle,” the woman said, shaking her hand. “Layla’s mum and the sister Lucas likes to keep humble as well. I’m glad he’s decided to turn his attentions elsewhere.”
Quenby wished the floor of the annex would open up and swallow her. She hadn’t meant to say that about Lucas, especially not with his sister nearby.
Layla held up her arms to display her choir robe. “I have to change.”
Anabelle took her hand and guided her away. Quenby watched them for a moment before she turned back toward Lucas. “Please tell me that your parents aren’t here too.”
“Actually—”
She groaned.
“They wouldn’t miss hearing Layla.”
She crossed her arms. “You should have told me I’d be meeting your family.”
“But if I’d told you—” he leaned down, his voice low—“you would have run.”
Chapter 36
Mill House, January 1943
Rosalind blew into the cottage like a summer breeze, dusting away the winter gloom that had settled over the house, shaking branches so a bit of sun could radiate through.
Brigitte first saw her from her bedroom window, riding in the front seat beside Herr. The moment the woman stepped out of the car, her hand resting on the hump of her belly, Brigitte knew everything was about to change.
She watched the three of them through the crack by her door. Instead of fear, Rosalind radiated confidence and sophistication. An air of indifference to the miserly furnishings around her.
“She can’t stay,” Frau hissed even though Rosalind sat poised on a kitchen chair, right in front of her. The red polish on the younger woman’s fingernails matched the color of her tailored coat, and the sitting room seemed to cower in her presence, the dullness of it blurring away.
Even Herr was rattled. “We have no choice,” he said, pacing beside the women.
“Of course we have a choice. I can hardly feed the two of us as it is, Eddie. I’ve no food for her or anything for a baby.”
“He’ll bring us food and supplies,” Rosalind said, examining the nails fanned out in front of her, bored instead of worried about their discussion. “Won’t you, Eddie?”
Frau’s eyes pierced like darts, but Herr ignored the woman completely, speaking to his wife instead. “I’ve brought plenty of food in the motorcar.”
“But what about next week? Or next month? We’ve gone for weeks at a time without a single box from you or her ladyship.”
“I can’t help it if the Royal Mail loses a parcel.”
“You could drive it here yourself, like you promised.”
“Not without raising suspicions. They’re keeping their eye on us.” Herr glanced at Rosalind.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t sugarcoat it for my sake. I’ve seen and heard plenty in the past five years, and one thing I’ve learned—when you’re the one holding the secret, you’re either dead or fed. The Nazis feed their people well, as long as you stay in their good graces. Fortunately, Mummy needs all of us right now, so we’ll have food.”
Frau seemed to be considering her words.
Rosalind stood, patting Herr on the arm. “Eddie, I’m certain, will make sure we’re fed. He and Mum are on the best of terms.”
Brigitte covered her mouth to suppress her giggle. She liked how this woman stood up to Herr. And how Herr had no retort.
Rosalind glanced around the room, holding the handle of a suitcase. “So where shall I sleep in this stately pile?”
“I’ll bring you a cot,” Frau said.
“Oh no,” Rosalind said, moving toward Frau’s room. “I need a bed.”
“That’s mine—” Frau began.
But Rosalind had already disappeared inside. “Baby and I will sleep just fine in here.”
After Rosalind closed the door, Frau turned slowly toward her husband, her wide eyes narrowing. “This is ludicrous.”
“We have no choice. No one knows that Lady Ricker has a daughter, not even Lord Ricker. He and the servants will wonder where she’s been.”
Frau’s knotted hands flew to her waist. “Where has she been?”
“In Berlin and then Vienna, with the man she says she’s going to marry.”
“A German officer?”