Freddie’s face registered surprise, then shifted back to neutral. “Certainly,” he said.

In short order, Freddie and Daphne and I got sucked into the mingling crowd and separated. I cruised around the room trying to avoid getting drawn into any long conversations, and looking for something to eat or drink that might settle my stomach. But none of the food seemed appetizing, and after about ten minutes, my back hurt and my head felt spinny. I wanted to take off my heels and go home. But I wasn’t even sure we were allowed to go home before Eleanor did, and I definitely wasn’t interrupting Nick’s immersion into Lord Tarlington’s sausage empire. Instead, I exited the room as elegantly as I could, and kicked off my heels as soon as I found an empty hallway, digging my toes gratefully into the plush carpeting. I padded down the hallway, pumps swinging from my fingers, eyeballing the gilded detailing until I ended up in front of a door down at the end that I’d never opened before. It led to a fairly unremarkable drawing room—well, unremarkable for Buckingham Palace; there was still an oil painting of King Albert riding a white horse hanging over the marble fireplace—with a set of French doors opening up onto a Juliet balcony that overlooked the gardens. I pulled the doors open and stepped out into the crisp December air.

“Fancy meeting you here,” came Freddie’s voice.

I whipped my head around to see him leaning against the wall. “Jeez, you scared me.” I shivered. “Aren’t you cold?”

“It feels good,” he said. “Too stuffy in there. Take this.” He shrugged off the jacket of his military uniform, which had been draped over his own shoulders, and offered it to me.

“Thank you. I’m sure this is against regulations, but I won’t report you,” I said. “I was getting woozy in there. Being outside is helping.”

“Great minds.” He rubbed his hands together and let out a puff of breath, which dissipated in a cloud in front of us. “You must have been working on Knickers pretty hard, to get him to invite me to dinner.”

“Nope,” I said. “That was all him.”

“I didn’t see that coming,” he said, scratching at his beard. “I’d started to make my peace with the thought that we’d keep drifting away from each other.”

“You can’t mean that,” I said, leaning on the concrete balcony railing. I felt a little queasy.

Freddie shrugged. “Prepare for the worst.”

“Isn’t the phrase ‘Prepare for the worst and expect the best’?” I asked. “You left out the optimistic part.”

“The last six months have made me into more of a pragmatist.”

I regarded his profile, so handsome, so sad. “Was it awful out there?”