She crooked a thumb toward Win and Pru.
“Ah, let’s allow Lord Winton and his lady friend to divvy up the space in the third bedroom. Thankfully Miss Innamorati is petite because they will have to contend with an exceptionally narrow bed.”
Sixty-nine
?LE SAINT-LOUIS
PARIS
FEBRUARY 1973
Pru chucked her bag into the closet and heaved herself onto the bed. She sighed and let her arms and legs sprawl the width of it.
“Any room on there for an old friend?” said Win’s voice from above her. She could nearly hear Mrs. Spencer tittering from down the hallway.
“Earl of Winton, huh?” Pru said, one arm thrown over her eyes. “Lord Winton. That is an interesting tidbit you managed to avoid.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“The ‘Earl of Winton’ doesn’t mean anything? The title has no significance whatsoever? Nothing?”
“To me it’s just a name. Something handed to me without any effort on my part. Why? Does the title matter to you? Do you find it important?”
“Oh yes. Endlessly so. As you have rightly assessed.”
Pru turned on her side to face a brown lacquered desk. That no woman lived in the home was abundantly clear. The place was filled with heavy, ornate antiques interspersed with pieces of cheap modular furniture. Between the shag rugs and velour upholstery, any visitor would be treated to a full compendium on the permutations of the color brown.
“Had I known it was an earl I was dealing with,” Pru said. “I would’ve expressed my unreturned devotion to no response three times instead of merely the two.”
“Don’t be like that, Laurel.”
She felt the bed sink with his weight.
“No problem there,” she said. “Being ‘like that’ was my first mistake.”
“You know how I feel.”
“I don’t, actually.”
“I can’t … you’re too young. Vibrant. You have the world ahead of you. It’d be wrong, don’t you see? To return the words? Even though I feel them?”
“Too young and vibrant. It’s Berenson and Mrs. Spencer all over again. Win, you know about Charlie. You know about my childhood. And because of this you know I’ve probably dealt with more hard knocks in my two decades than you have in three and a half.”
The bed shifted again. Pru inhaled and closed her eyes, as if fortifying herself against some kind of blow. She felt Win’s body inch closer to hers.
“Win,” she said. “What are we doing here? Why are we even in Paris?”
“It was GD’s idea, remember?”
“Right. Which makes all the sense in the world. Who wouldn’t let a ninety-year-old, marginally sane woman dictate what country they’re in? I think this is how adults end up missing.”
“It’s the Marlboroughs,” he said. “She’s afraid of them.”
“You see, this doesn’t sound like a real problem,” Pru said. “It sounds like paranoia. What would they be trying to steal from her anyway?”
“Tom exists. She was right about that.”
Win scooted closer, the barrier between them so thin it was more awkward than if they’d actually been touching. As a test, Win gently rested his fingers in the nook of her bent elbow. She did not shake him off.
Did Win love her? Of course he loved her, this girl who was some balled-up mix of innocence and wisdom, delicateness and strength. The truth was he loved her so damned much it went past that one trite feeling and into something else.
And because of that, there was no use pursuing it. The whole deal would go tits-up at some point and the poor girl would have to suffer yet another heartbreak. Not that Win fancied himself anywhere close to the league of Charlie but that bloke had reason for leaving.
“So what happens next?” Pru asked.
“Um…” Win glanced at his hand, and her skin below it. “I guess we wait.”
“Perfect. And how long will that take? To be clear, what are we waiting for? Mrs. Spencer to come to her senses? For her to die? What?”
“What’s the big hurry? Do you have someplace to be?”
“We can’t stay here forever,” she said.
Can’t we? Win thought.
“We obviously need to get her home,” Pru added.
“And how do you propose we accomplish that? Mrs. Spencer only does what she wants, nothing more. Which is why we find ourselves in Paris, by the by.”
“We need to assure her that there’s nothing to worry about,” Pru said. “That no one’s out to get her.”
“Don’t you think we should first make sure it’s true?”
“You could talk to them,” Pru said.
“Talk to whom?”
“The Marlboroughs. Convince them she doesn’t need hospitalization or whatever it is they’re thinking.”
“Once again, I ask, shouldn’t we make sure that’s true?”