Page 170 of The Love Letter
‘Earl Grey or Darjeeling?’
‘I really don’t mind.’
‘Very good, sir.’
The butler left the room and Simon paced around it, wondering why on earth, on today of all days, the Duke had to be delayed. Every second he was away from Welbeck Street was making him more and more edgy.
The butler brought his tea and left again. Simon drank it, still pacing distractedly up and down the room. Then something on the wall, sitting innocently amidst the myriad of other, probably priceless, paintings, caught his eye. It looked similar to something he’d seen recently. He moved closer to study it, and the hand holding his teacup began to shake.
He was pretty sure it was identical, down to the last detail.
Simon pulled out his mobile phone to make a call, but at that moment, the butler arrived.
‘His Royal Highness is ready to leave now.’
The teacup was firmly removed from his hand and he was ushered out of the room.
From her vantage point inside the telephone box on the opposite side of Welbeck Street, Joanna dialled a mobile number. ‘Steve? It’s Jo. Don’t ask where I am, but if you want a pretty piccie, get your backside to Zoe Harrison’s house. The Duke is about to arrive. Yes, really! Oh, and there’s a back entrance if you want an interior shot, though you’ll have to scale a few walls to get to it. Then wait outside the house until you hear from me. Bye.’
She dialled another number, and another, until she had informed every picture desk of every daily London newspaper of the whereabouts of Prince Arthur, the Duke of York’s supper engagement that evening. Now all she had to do was wait for them to arrive.
One of the photographers spotted the car as soon as Simon turned into Welbeck Street just before eight o’clock.
‘Oh Christ!’ the Duke swore as he saw the barrage of cameras positioned outside Zoe’s house.
‘Would you like to move on, Your Royal Highness?’
‘Bit late for that now, isn’t it? Come on, let’s get on with it.’
Joanna watched as the door to the Jaguar opened and the photographers clustered round the car. She made a run for it across the road and into the scrum, emerging just in front of the Duke and Simon. As she knew it would, the door opened like magic and she stumbled inside.
‘Jo! You did manage to make it after all!’ Zoe greeted her distractedly, looking anxiously at Art as Simon slammed the door and locked it behind him.
‘Yes,’ she panted, removing her trilby hat and shaking her hair out. ‘It’s a scrum out there.’
‘What a pretty dress. I’ve only ever seen you in jeans before.’
‘That’s ’cos it’s all I ever wear. Thought I’d make an effort for tonight.’
‘And those glasses really suit you. You look different.’
‘Good,’ said Joanna, and she meant it.
Zoe kissed her on the cheek, then turned her attention to Art, who was standing behind her. ‘Hello, darling. How are you?’ she began, then they all jumped as the letter box was prised open and the end of a telephoto lens appeared through it. Simon immediately snapped it shut and there was a satisfying crack of plastic as the camera withdrew.
‘I suggest you all move into the drawing room. Give me a few seconds to draw the curtains,’ said Simon to the disgruntled prince.
‘Thank you, Warburton.’ Art followed Simon along the hall, as Zoe put a hand on Joanna’s arm.
‘I’ll formally introduce you to Art in a second,’ Zoe whispered.
‘Do I curtsey? What do I call him?’ Joanna asked.
Zoe suppressed a laugh. ‘Just be yourself. And he’ll let you know what to call him. Although it might be best if you don’t mention you’re a journalist,’ she said with a hint of irony.
‘Understood. I’ll be a dog handler for the night instead.’ Joanna nodded as they walked together towards the drawing room. She turned to Zoe at the door. ‘Excuse me, I must just go to the loo.’ And dashed up the stairs before Zoe could reply.
‘Simon, would you mind bringing the champagne through?’ Zoe asked him as he emerged from the drawing room. ‘It’s on ice in the kitchen.’
