“I’m sure you’re doing a wonderful job,” she said with extra sweetness. “It’s good practice for the heir, eh?”

“Perhaps you’d like to give Edwin a go,” Nick said innocently. “He went to the trouble of showing up today, and all.”

We looked at Edwin, who was mugging into his phone. “Oooh, darling, I look dishy as a kitty cat,” he giggled to Elizabeth.

“Absolutely not,” Eleanor said, and sat down. We followed suit.

“Eddybear gets anxious around binders,” Elizabeth told us, patting his knee.

“Right, I’ll keep this, then,” Nick said smoothly. “Okay. Hax and Lax have got the chap who just won Eurovision to headline the variety show—”

“A scandal. It was a terribly dull song,” Eleanor sniffed.

“And we’re meant to send a British musician as well, though Lax politely requested that we not send any of ours who were at Eurovision,” Nick finished.

“Let’s send Elton,” Edwin said. “Or Paul?”

“Seems rather like overkill, Uncle,” Freddie said.

“It’s a royal wedding,” Elizabeth pointed out. “At least consider it. I love a good sing-song to Elton.”

“I’ll have Cilla prepare a list,” Nick said. “Let’s move on to the dress code for dinner…”

When the meeting ended and Eleanor gave us leave to stand ahead of her, everyone dispersed in a hurry—Nick and Freddie in particular—leaving Eleanor sitting in contemplation, staring up at the painting on the wall. The unfinished one of her had been rotated back in, and she was studying it with an air of sadness.

“I feel a bit like that portrait today,” she said. “Incomplete. As if I’m slowly fading to white.”

“Did Richard at least say where he was when you talked to him?” I asked. “Has he decided anything?”

“I’m surprised you believed that, Rebecca,” Eleanor said. “I’ve not spoken to him at all.”

“I guess I assumed you wouldn’t add another lie to the pile,” I said. “You’re right that I should know better by now.”

“It didn’t occur to me that there would be anything for anyone to decide. Only to cope with,” she said quietly. “The longer he stays away, the more I worry about what he’s thinking.”

“Not everyone can live a lie,” I said.

Her head snapped up to me. “Could you? Could Nicholas?”

“I’ll let you know.”

Eleanor sagged a little before catching her own posture. “You truly think one of them would walk away over this?” she said. “Over this matter of choice? How do they not realize that not having to choose can be a blessing?” She ran her hand along the ornately carved edge of Richard’s conference table. “We are surrounded by so many incredible historical objects. We are historical objects. We are lucky.” She cocked her head and looked at me. “How can they hate that? Do they hate it? Do you?”