A man who sounded an awful lot like Gus.
Annie stood. She peered out the kitchen window toward the street. No sign of Jamie so far. After wiping her eyes with the hem of her shirt, Annie sat back down and, once again, she pressed Play.
Sixty-eight
?LE SAINT-LOUIS
PARIS
FEBRUARY 1973
“This place isn’t half bad,” Mrs. Spencer said as she promenaded through the front door like the duchess she was. “It’ll do quite well in fact.”
She shucked off her sable coat and handed it to Win.
Back in Banbury, Mrs. Spencer stuck with dirty trousers and her ever-present threadbare button-down shirt, when she actually wore a shirt. But her appearance was decidedly less ragtag when donning what she called “traveling attire.”
In addition to the sable, the century-old debutante wore a peach-colored chemise and was thoroughly decked out in jewels. It must’ve been what Evelyn Waugh meant when he called her “very battered with fine diamonds.” She’d even gone to the trouble of a wig, which hung off the back of her head like an inquisitive but friendly raccoon.
“Welcome to Maison Seton,” Win said. “I’m glad you find the accommodations acceptable. Young James! We’re here!”
A pair of feet clopped down the long parquet hallway. Soon a tall and gangly man appeared. To Pru he seemed comprised mainly of dark ringlets and nose. Win tried to remember this, the schnoz, whenever he felt inadequate, though he had to admit Jamie possessed a certain beatnik allure that drove girls bonkers. He was probably the very kind of bloke Pru preferred after her stint at Berkeley.
“Hello!” Jamie said, grinning.
In addition to the nose and curls, he was also made of teeth. Jamie was so different from Win who tended toward clean-cut and brawny, his smiles mostly closemouthed.
“You must be the dazzling Gladys Deacon.” Jamie took Mrs. Spencer’s hand and kissed it. “Oh Lord, you give your former husband’s family a decent name. They should thank the heavens for you. How old are you now, Lady Marlborough? Have you even reached fifty yet?”
“She goes by Deacon, mate,” Win said. “Or Spencer.”
“This lovely man can call me whatever he pleases!” Mrs. Spencer sang as she danced down the hallway.
Win and Pru rolled their eyes in harmony.
“And you must be Pru,” Jamie said and kissed her on each cheek. “I’m James. Jamie. The preferable of the Seton brothers.”
“Her real name is Laurel,” Win said, voice coming out like jelly. He did not like his pet name being manhandled by his little brother.
“Righto. Well, old chum.” Jamie pounded him on the back. “I’m tickled to see you. Thought you might end up staying in Banbury forever. Alas, the favored son has returned. I suppose you want the flat back.”
“Favored?” Pru couldn’t help but blurt, Win still mostly in her bad graces. “That’s a scary thought and doesn’t speak very well to your own attributes, James. No offense.”
Jamie chuckled. Mrs. Spencer heard the merriment and wandered back down the hall.
“You are a very perceptive young woman,” Jamie said. “And I’m pleased to know you’ve not bought any of the rubbish my brother, the venerable Lord Winton, has undoubtedly tossed your way.”
“Lord Winton?” Mrs. Spencer said. “What do you mean by that?”
“My brother has a title, dontcha know?”
Mrs. Spencer turned to Win, then bopped him in the chest with a panther-hair clutch.
“Of course I didn’t know!” Mrs. Spencer said.
“Well, well, well.” Jamie whistled through his teeth. “I’m aghast. Usually our lordship doesn’t let an hour pass without reminding someone. I’m surprised he doesn’t have it embroidered on his shirt. Ladies and ladies, before us stands a bona fide earl.”
“No!” Pru said. Her jaw fell open.
“Yes, indeedy. The Right Honorable Earl Jerome Casper Augustine Seton of Winton, hence the deplorable nickname Win. Ironic, isn’t it? Like a three-legged dog named Lucky.”
“Aw, sod off,” Win said, smiling. “You jealous bastard.”
“Lord Winton,” Pru said under her breath. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
“James, before your brother further abuses my precious ears with his rough language, can you please show me to my rooms?” Mrs. Spencer asked. “An earl. Honestly, you’d never imagine it.”
“Please follow me, Lady Marlborough,” Jamie said. “I’m chuffed to have some company. Because of your vast esteem, I shall offer you the master suite. It has the most sensational views of the Seine. A person can spend entire days simply watching the barges pass.” He leaned down and grabbed the handle of her tattered croc suitcase. “My room is right next door. Anything you need, just ask.”
“Merci, Monsieur Seton. Je vous remercie de tout mon c?ur,” Mrs. Spencer said. “And what about those two?”