“I don’t really care what Mother thinks. And Father is the last person who would dare to complain about Eve’s working-class background. I like Eve. I plan to see her again.”
“Is she your act of rebellion? Is that why you’ll keep seeing her?”
Alfie grinned as he lifted a forkful of eggs. “I’ll keep seeing her because she’s beautiful, in case you hadn’t noticed. And because she’s fun. There isn’t a snobbish bone in her body.”
“Not a drop of blue blood, either.”
“Don’t be unkind, Audrey. I thought she was your friend.”
“She is!” Audrey closed her eyes, picturing the expression of adoration on Eve’s face as she’d waltzed in Alfie’s arms, like a starving woman eyeing a banquet table. “She is my friend,” she said softly. “Eve is naive and trusting and loving . . . Please don’t hurt her, Alfie. You know a romance with her can’t go anywhere. But Eve doesn’t know it, and she won’t believe me if I tell her. She believes in fairy tales. She doesn’t know that people like us rarely live happily ever after.”
“You sound so jaded, Sis.”
“I suppose I am. It’s hard to find a man who’s interested in me and not our father’s money. I would like to fall in love with an unforgettable man who would love me even if I were as penniless as Eve Dawson. I long for a romance that will last a lifetime, not a convenient arrangement like our parents have.” She wondered if Alfie knew the truth about their mother. Audrey still wished she could forget that terrible night.
“So you believe in fairy tales too?” Alfie asked.
“I would very much like to. Do you suppose people like us are allowed to believe in them?”
The butler entered before Alfie replied. “Excuse me, sir . . . Miss Audrey,” he said with a bow. “You may wish to switch on the wireless. King Edward is making an important announcement.”
They left their food on the table and hurried into the morning room. The king had already begun to speak when Alfie switched on the set, but Audrey quickly caught the gist of it. “He’s abdicating his throne!” she said. Alfie nodded. Abdicating! Laying aside his crown as the sovereign monarch of the British Commonwealth for the sake of love! Audrey sank down on the sofa, stunned, as she listened to King Edward’s sad, weary voice.
“I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge my duties as king as I would wish to do, without the help and support of the woman I love.”
Alfie switched off the wireless with an angry gesture when the broadcast ended. “There’s your fairy tale, Audrey. The king is giving up the throne of Britain for love. Don’t you think the old boy is just a little bit of a fool?”
“Perhaps.” Audrey would never tell Alfie what she really was thinking—that it must be wonderful to be so beloved by a king that he would sacrifice everything for her.
USA, 1950
Audrey sank down on Eve’s kitchen chair, struggling to control her tears. They had arrived at Eve’s tiny bungalow only minutes ago, and the air inside was sweltering. Audrey had left her home in England and endured a long, wearying journey to America to meet her husband’s parents, hoping to find a new home and begin a new life. But nothing was turning out the way she’d planned. Eve Dawson was here in her place, telling Audrey she had to leave, that she didn’t belong. Eve’s angry words rained down on her like a hail of shrapnel:
“For as long as we’ve known each other, you’ve had all the advantages and I’ve had none. You’re Audrey Clarkson—the spoiled rich girl, the aristocrat! You went to a fancy school to learn how to marry a wealthy husband, so surely you can find a man in London who’d be willing to marry Alfred Clarkson’s rich little daughter. A man who could buy you a house twice as big as this one—twice as big as Wellingford Hall!”
Audrey closed her eyes to shut out Eve’s words. Then she bent forward and covered her face, reminded again of the bitter truth. “I’m not his daughter,” she mumbled.
Eve froze in place. The room went still except for the hum of the rotating fan that Eve had switched on when they’d arrived. A fly buzzed against the window screen. Eve opened the freezer and stuffed the treats she’d been carrying back inside. “What did you say?” she asked.
Audrey pulled a linen handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her tears, then blotted perspiration from her forehead. She never should have blurted the truth about her father. Eve planted her hand on her hip as she waited for an explanation “I—I’m sorry,” Audrey mumbled. “Sorry.” She heard Mother’s disparaging voice: “Oh, for pity’s sake, Audrey . . .”