Page 30 of Royally Redeemed
I pointed.
She grabbed a liquid measuring cup from next to the bowls and brought it over. “Water in here. Keep a wet rag and dip it when it gets too warm. Add some ice to keep it cool. It will eventually dull.”
“Oh... okay. Do you want something to drink, Miss Mills?”
“Can you... just call me Ella? If you insist on Duncan, I mean.”
“Sure.” I nodded. “It is a pretty name.”
I could tell she was fighting the urge to blush—perhaps from sheer embarrassment.
“There is wine in the cellar. Loads,” I said. “Go nick some from the stash.”
“What? But like... can we?”
“Yes,” I chuckled. “It's ours for the taking. Possession and all.”
She smiled and dashed off, returning with a cheerful looking Beaujolais in an impressive vintage.
“You either are a very good guesser, or you know your wine.”
“I know wine,” she said.
“I love surprises like that. Well done,” I said.
The timer beeped.
“That would be the pizza. Let me pour the wine,” Ella said. “It's the least I can do.”
She poured two glasses and sliced the pizza. She transported all of it to the living room where I directed her. Sitting at a fully-dressed table with frozen pizza seemed odd and, like a rational woman, she agreed. We ate, my hand feeling less achy. I enjoyed her genuine smile. I could handle that. It was certainly much better than being alone on Christmas.
20
A BAD DEAL
ELOISE
December 24
London Daily Times
It was a pleasant sea change when photographers waiting at the Sandringham main gate received a surprise appearance. Around 10, the Duke and Duchess of Inverness approached photographers. They began to give out bags of Christmas treats courtesy of the Lyons family. It was a special moment—a true departure from the exiled Prince of Wales's approach to dealing with the press. Once more, Prince Keir and Princess Ingrid are class acts. It's no surprised that they are the most popular royals after Her Majesty!
Ireturned from the kitchen with a roll of biscuits and two refreshed glasses. Duncan was on his phone, face drawn in a scowl.
“What's up?” I asked.
He looked up. “Shit. How long have you been standing there with that glass of wine?”
“Not that long,” I assured.
I sat opposite the side table between us and ripped into the roll of biscuits.
“It's a nightmare,” the Prince muttered.
“Is it? What is?”
“My idiot cousin! He and his perfect wife brought the paps cookies. You act like you have no idea!”
