Twenty minutes later, she made her way down two flights of stairs. When she got to the ground floor, she hesitated for a second and then turned left, toward the back of the house. She wasn’t positive that was where the kitchen was, but it made the most sense. She’d sort of expected to see someone on her journey across the ground floor—any of the men in suits, for example—but though she heard faint music and some voices in the distance, she saw no one.

Finally, after she walked through a formal living room with furniture that looked so elaborate she was afraid to touch it, and a huge dining room with a wooden table that gleamed, she followed a narrow hallway that she was sure must lead to the kitchen. The sound of voices and of running water from that direction made her even more certain. She took a deep breath and stepped into the room with a smile on her face.

“Good morning, I’m Vivian Forest,” she said to the young woman with red hair standing at the stove. Well, she was probably somewhere in her thirties, but Vivian would always call anyone in the vicinity of her daughter’s age “young,” no matter how old they both got. “If it’s not too much trouble, can I have . . . ?”

Her voice trailed off as she looked around the room. It wasn’t the huge wood beam ceiling that stopped her, or the enormous bright red stove, or the dried herbs and garlic and onion braids hanging over the big wooden table. No, it was the man standing by the back door.

His hair was short, with a touch of gray at the temples. He was wearing a shirt and tie and suit pants, but with a very cozy-looking cardigan on top instead of a jacket. He had a plaid scarf wrapped around his neck and was somehow pulling it off better than any nonmodel she’d ever seen. His skin was warm brown. And he was smiling at her like they’d been friends for years. She couldn’t help but return a smile just as big.

“Ms. Forest, good morning!” Vivian’s attention snapped back to the woman standing at the stove. “I just made a new pot of coffee. Would you like a cup? Or tea? I’m happy to make you whatever breakfast you want. We weren’t sure what you and the other Ms. Forest would like, so I have a lot of options, but I made some fresh scones this morning if that interests you? The other Ms. Forest mentioned you enjoy them at breakfast although we usually eat them at tea-time.”

Vivian couldn’t decide what appealed to her more, hot coffee and fresh scones, or that man in the corner who looked like a tall mug of hot chocolate.

Why choose?

“I’d love both the coffee and a scone. Thank you so much.”

Would Hot Chocolate leave? Or come farther into the room? Or just stay silent until she went away? Vivian tried to keep her mind on the woman pouring her coffee.

“I’m Julia Pepper. I’m the cook here at Sycamore Cottage. It’s nice to meet you.” She set the cup in a saucer and then on a tray. “I can bring the coffee and some scones into the sitting room where you ate last night, if that’s convenient for you?”

Vivian would rather stay in this warm, comfortable-looking kitchen and chat with Julia and Mr. Chocolate over there, but she didn’t want to disturb the running of the household.

“Oh yes, of course, that’s—”

“Now Julia can introduce us,” Hot Chocolate said. Good Lord, was that nickname a good one; his voice was so warm and dark and liquid. He was smiling at her again, and she smiled back.

“Ms. Forest, this is Malcolm Hudson.” Julia’s voice sounded amused. “He’s Her Majesty’s private secretary now, but he’s always had a soft spot for my scones.” Her Majesty. As in, the Queen. This man worked directly for the Queen? What in God’s name? “Mr. Hudson, Ms. Forest.”

He stepped all the way inside the kitchen to shake her hand. His big, warm hand enveloped hers and shook firmly, but not for too long. She sent up a tiny thank-you that she’d put a bra and lipstick on before coming downstairs.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hudson.” People seemed very fond of using last names here, so she was going to go with it. When in Rome, after all. “I hope there are enough scones for both of us.”

He laughed and turned to Julia.

“What do you think? Are there enough scones for both of us?”

Julia picked up a plate full of scones and presented it to him.

“I know you want all of these, but some of them are for tea, you know.”

Vivian picked up her cup of coffee from the tray Julia had been preparing. She took a sip and smiled. Julia made good coffee.

“Have you both worked for the royal family long?”

Malcolm nodded.

“We’ve both gone back and forth a bit, haven’t we, Julia?”

Julia put a scone on a smaller plate, and set it in front of Vivian, along with tiny pots of jam and what Vivian thought might be clotted cream. She then did the same for Malcolm. Vivian watched him spread jam and the cream onto his scone. Was that how they ate them here?

“I definitely have. I’ve worked for a few members of the family, but I started off over at Windsor Castle.” Yes, okay, of course, this nice young woman used to work at a castle. “I’m a pastry chef by training and came in at first just for a few special events, then got hired on permanently. There was some staff turnover a few years ago, and I left to go work in a restaurant, but then the Duchess lured me back, and now I work for them full-time.”

Vivian spread jam and cream onto her scone like Malcolm had, and then took a bite.