“I’m sorry to come inside, Mrs. Spencer.”
“Please, Tomasz. I’m the one who should apologize! I’m so very embarrassed.” Mrs. Spencer grabbed at her throat. “I haven’t had a chance to tidy up this week.”
Pru lifted her eyebrows. This week? As far as she could tell, Mrs. Spencer hadn’t tidied up this year, or that decade, or even the one before it. The home had more litter in it than any given public park. There was a pile of dog feces that’d been in the room so long it didn’t even reek anymore.
“Mrs. Spencer,” Tom said. “I regret to report the Marlboroughs are in town. Not to worry, I shooed them away. But my guess is they’ll be back.”
“They’re here?” Win said. “In Banbury? Are you quite certain?”
“Yes, I’m certain.” Tom narrowed his eyes, though the distance between them remained wide. “Who are you?”
“Don’t worry about him,” Mrs. Spencer said. “He’s just a writer.”
“The name’s Seton.” Win extended a hand, which went ignored. “They don’t teach manners in Poland, I gather. In any case, are you sure the people you saw weren’t trying to sell knives or encyclopedias? I know our girl Gladys likes to stir it up, but just because she claims to see the Marlboroughs, does not make it so.”
“You saw them too?” Tom said and turned to Mrs. Spencer.
In the new light, his eyes darkened, changing color like a hologram.
“Yes, that’s what I was trying to explain to these two nitwits,” she said. “I saw the Marlboroughs lurking around Banbury proper. They even sent an emissary to my front door, replete with stolen pup. Where did you see them?”
“Near the front gate. I chased them off with a hammer.”
Win batted a piece of hair away from his eyes.
“Remind me to stay off your bad side,” he said.
“It was the eleventh duke,” Tom said. “And various family members. They also had a barrister with them, plus a lekarz from St. Andrew’s.”
“A doctor.” Mrs. Spencer sighed. “Christ. What are we going to do?”
She looked back and forth between Pru and Win. Somewhere in the distance, a grandfather clock chimed.
“It might be time to … disappear,” Tom said, making some sort of gesture with his fingers. It looked like he was wagging kielbasa in the air.
“Hmm…” Mrs. Spencer said. “You may be right.”
“Disappear?” Pru said. “Where?”
Were they going to ship her back to America? Already? Her heart galloped. Then again, perhaps the farther away from Win the better. “Saved by the bell.” For the love of God. He had a perilous level of stupidity.
“Seton,” Mrs. Spencer said, spitting his name through her teeth like a particularly satisfying swear word. Pru knew exactly how she felt. “Didn’t you mention Paris? You have a home in Paris? Or something? I can’t believe they let you into that city.”
“Yes, Lady M., I do have a flat there.”
“Brilliant. We’re moving in.”
“Er, hold up. I’m not so sure that’s wise. Also, I’d prefer to stay at the Grange and finish your biography.”
“You’ll get your damned book,” Mrs. Spencer said. “As if I’d waste all this time with nothing to show for it. I’m only thinking of a different venue from which to conduct your work. Your home, is it large?”
“It’s a fair size,” he said. “About two hundred seventy-five square meters. Mrs. Spencer—”
“How many people live there? Parents? Siblings? Staff?”
“It’s been some time since we’ve had any staff,” Win said. “And my parents are dead. It’s only my brother at present.”
“Excellent!” Mrs. Spencer spun around. She pushed past Tom and out into the hallway. “We leave tonight!”
“Tonight?” Pru gulped. “You’re leaving tonight?”
“We’re leaving. The three of us. You, me, the writer.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re off to Paris. Seton, ring your brother. Tell him to make up the beds.”
Sixty-four
?LE SAINT-LOUIS
PARIS
NOVEMBER 2001
Almost immediately after Gladys and Sunny’s wedding, the duke became a royal pain in the arse. He grew so quarrelsome Gladys took to bringing a revolver to the dinner table just to keep him in line.
On top of this, he began paying undue attention to a fifteen-year-old girl named Theresa Jungman, whom he sickeningly called Baby. Though Sunny professed his undying love for this Baby, he went on to have many other mistresses, including Canadian actress Frances Doble. After many years of trysting, he promised to marry Frances and asked Gladys for a divorce.
And wouldn’t you know it, Gladys obliged. What did she need with Sunny and a title anyhow? They’d been wed for over a decade by then but in that marriage and throughout their home, Gladys proclaimed, “I still feel like a tourist.”