“Er … I’ll ring him in the morning.”
Pru threw off the covers and stood.
“We have to go back!” she said. “To Banbury!”
“Pru…” Win reached for her arm.
“We can’t leave Mrs. Spencer alone there.”
“Please. Let’s forget about Mrs. Spencer and the Marlboroughs for tonight.” We’ll deal with this catastrophe tomorrow.
“Win, she’s alone!”
“Tom is there, remember? He’s scarier than we are anyhow. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley, or even a lit one.”
Pru sighed and slumped down onto the bed.
“I guess you’re right,” she said.
“Of course I’m right.” As Win glided his hand up her side, she shivered. “We’ll engage that mob of nutters tomorrow. For now.” He skimmed his fingers across her left breast. “For now. Just us.”
Pru smiled, at once filled to the neck with a foreign, indescribable sensation. Perhaps, when you got right down to it, the feeling was exactly that, one of fullness, the emptiness finally gone.
“You’re right,” Pru said again and moved her body flush against Win’s. “We’ll handle it in the morning.”
And with that, Win and Pru took up from where they left off.
Seventy-three
?LE SAINT-LOUIS
PARIS
NOVEMBER 2001
“To leave a message for the guest in room five, please speak at the tone.”
“Hi, Mom? It’s me. You might be wondering where I am. Don’t freak out, but I’m in Paris. I hopped on a train right after you did.
“You might’ve heard me mention my friend from Banbury named Gus. Well, I just found out his full name is Jerome Casper Augustine Seton. He calls himself the Earl of Winton, mostly as a joke but it is also the truth. I am at his apartment now, with his brother Jamie. I think you know the place and the people I’m talking about.
“Honestly? I’m more confused than ever. About you. About me. Why did you keep this part of your life hidden? I feel like it has to do with my dad, but I just can’t get the math to pencil out. What happened in those years? Between when you left Paris and I was born?
“Mom, I’m not going back to Virginia until you come here first. You say I was an easy toddler, that I never threw a tantrum. Well, I’m doing it now. This is my tantrum. I’m planting my feet in Paris until you arrive.
“Okay, that’s it. Sorry for the long message. And sorry for doing it like this but there’s no other choice. So. You know where to find me … on Quai de Béthune. Good-bye, Mom. Miss Valentine. I’ll see you in Paris.”
Seventy-four
?LE SAINT-LOUIS
PARIS
NOVEMBER 2001
“To be clear,” Jamie said as he dumped a handful of diced shallots into the snapping skillet. “When I claimed to love cooking I did not promise to be especially talented.”
“Well, it smells great,” Annie said.
“Those are the shallots talking.”
She nodded absently, her mind on Gus’s tape, likewise the needless description of her mother’s underwear and naked breasts.
“Is it drafty in here?” Jamie asked, mistaking her shudder for a shiver. “I can crank up the heat.”
He opened a can of tomato paste, and then spooned it into the pan.
“The temperature’s perfect,” she said and sipped her Bordeaux. “Listen, Jamie, I have a confession to make.”
“A confession?” He glanced over his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows. “One of my favorite things to hear.”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s nothing steamy.”
Gus’s erection. Laurel nude. Annie was just about maxed out on “steamy.”
“It’s about your brother,” she said. “Gus. He’s been telling me the story behind the book, the story of Win and Pru.”
“Of your mum.”
“Yes, my mum,” Annie said, thinking of Laurel who was probably right then stepping into an empty hotel room and also into a cold panic. “I had no idea who Win was until about twenty minutes ago. I never realized Win and Gus were the same person. For a second there I thought Win was you.”
“Really?” Jamie turned to face her, his back pressed against the counter, a curious smile playing at his lips. “Me?”
“Only for a second.”
“The name didn’t tip you off?”
“J. Casper Augustine Seton?” Annie said. “I assumed the J was for James.”
“It’s for Jerome. Also, there’s a ‘Gus’ in there.”
Annie repeated the name in her head.
“Augustine?” she said. “That’s, like, barely a Gus.”
“Didn’t he tell you that he was the Earl of Winton?”
“Yes, but…”
Gus had told her that early on, but Annie thought it was a joke.
“It goes without saying Win refers to that,” Jamie said.
“Our nicknames are more straightforward in the States, I guess.”