Matthias nodded, giving his golden beard a scratch and finally tearing his focus from Janine’s curves. “We should touch down at Piedmont International in four hours. Local time will be around five in the afternoon.”
Andrew beckoned Matthias and he excused himself to see to his boss’s instructions.
I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. Only a few more hours. Perfect timing. I’d likely catch Alice returning to her flat from whatever job she’d taken. My mouth turned down at the thought of her talents being wasted on a tedious office gig, working for some stodgy old bastard who couldn’t possibly appreciate her properly. I’d bet my Shelby she’d been living in regret every day since her impulsive and inexplicable resignation.
Since learning of her whereabouts, I’d given it more than a little thought and determined that her fiancé must be working in Greensboro as well. Why else would Alice not be home in the Feldlands? I imagined she’d be relieved to see me and have an excuse to return to the motherland—as well as her position with the soon-to-be king. You couldn’t buy that kind of prestige for a CV. My lips curved as I pictured her reaction upon seeing me on her doorstep. Soon she’d be back where she belonged, and all would be right with the world again.
Alice would know what to do—how to rid me of this pesky public speaking hiccup and prepare me for my new position. There wasn’t a problem out there that Alice Williams couldn’t solve. She thrived on it, in fact, and now it was time to put her skills to the test.
With the fate of the nation at hand, how could she possibly refuse?
Chapter 4
Alice
“Reckon you could spare a few bucks?”
I did my best not to rip my hair out with my brush as I listened to my sister over speakerphone. “What happened to the money I wired last month?”
“Dunno. Zaz buggered off with it; probably spent it down at the pub. He’s got himself a new girlfriend who works there—some slag called Theresa who always smells of patchouli and day-old spunk.”
My hand paused in its strokes and I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror. “That’s revolting, Tilly.” Leave it to my sister to never skip a gory detail.
“Maybe so, but it’s also true.” Our brother, Zaz, wasn’t known for his discerning taste, although it wasn’t surprising given his disregard for common courtesies like basic hygiene and eating in a manner not affording diners three tables over a view of his half-masticated meal.
“You need to get your own bank account instead of sharing with Zaz. Next time I visit, I’ll drag you from that packing crate you two call a flat and take you down to the bank.” Who was I kidding? If this campaign at Triumph failed, I’d be on the next plane home, tail between my legs, with nothing to do but go visit my siblings and make nice with the smelly girlfriend.
“I have a better idea. You can fly me over to stay with you in America.”
Not that I wouldn’t enjoy seeing her, but it was impossible. “You saw how much visa trouble I had. You’d be sent right home.”
“Only if I was after a job. I’m talking about a holiday!”
I lowered the hairbrush to the counter. “Have you even earned holiday time yet? You’ve only been at that shop for a few months.”
“Dunno. I suppose I should check that.”
How could she not know how much holiday time she had or where her money went? It never ceased to baffle me how we’d all come from the same womb, yet those two were fine wandering the earth with no concrete plan or ambition. The two of them lived a three-hour drive from Dunwall, having moved on a whim to follow one of their mates, and as far as I knew, Zaz hadn’t held down a single job for more than a few weeks’ time. He was happy to sponge off Tilly and me—although I seemed to be the only one it bothered.
To be fair, however, our father hadn’t set the best example. After our mother passed away, he’d developed a three-pack-a-day habit and spent his days barely moving from his mate Darren’s front stoop where the two sat like elderly tortoises all day and heckled everyone from the postman to small children walking to school.
I’d just finished sixth form when Dad completely gave up any pretense of caring for his children, so I’d put off pursuing my bachelor’s degree to get a job and watch after Zaz and Tilly. And, as if he’d had the date circled on his calendar, our father vanished the day after Zaz turned eighteen, not that it wasn’t ultimately a relief not having him around.
But this topic of conversation was never a good one, so I decided to change the subject while I moved on to examining my eyebrows in the mirror. Oof. I was beginning to resemble an alpaca.
“Any other news?” I asked.
“Not really. Oh, wait, that’s not true.” She drew in an excited breath. “Guess who I saw when I took the train in to visit Emily?”
“I haven’t the slightest.”
“Reggie!” she shouted, as if announcing a grand prize to a game show contestant.
Oh, God. Reggie.
I aimed for nonchalance while I grimaced at my reflection. “Oh? Did he look well?”
“He practically ran in the opposite direction when he saw me.” She laughed. “I dunno what he thought I’d do to him. You’re the one who called off the engagement, not him.”
“Perhaps he just didn’t want a reminder.”
“I guess. Anyway, I always said you could do a lot better than him.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Reggie,” I scolded.
“Then why’d you dump him?” She went on to answer her own question. I apparently wasn’t needed in this conversation. “Because you’re in love with Prince Charming.”
“Not anymore,” I lied. Tilly knew me too well, however. In fact, she’d been the one to practically shove me bodily onto the plane to America following my resignation and the end of my engagement. She understood my need to create space so I could right my course and move on.
“You’re a terrible liar. We should play poker next time I see you.”
“How about if I just send you the money now?”
She laughed at that as I stripped off my nightdress and surveyed my body in the mirror. My breasts hadn’t grown overnight, unfortunately, so it looked like another barely-B day. Cupping them with my hands, I smushed them together in an effort to create some semblance of cleavage, but as soon as I released them, they returned to their original positions with hardly a jiggle. Sigh.
Turning to check out my bottom instead, I asked, “So, are you doing all right?”
“I’m doing good.”
Unable to help myself, I corrected her. “You’re doing well.”
Tilly’s eye roll was practically audible. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t need to talk like a toff to earn a living?”
“And how many times have I told you that speaking properly can open up new opportunities?” Satisfied that I’d made my point and that my bottom looked better than my breasts, I tossed my nightdress in the linen basket and moved to the bedroom to get dressed.
“Oh, please. You got that gig with your hottie prince through some connection between Mum and King Gregory from a gazillion years ago.”