Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Georgie,” said a bellowing voice from outside the hotel room door. “Georgie, open up.”
“Dad?” I replied, slowly inching out from under the comforter.
“Yes, let me in,” he shouted.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d been asleep. Maybe I was still asleep? Why was my father London?
“Am I still dreaming?” I called out to him.
“I just flew seven hours to be here. Can you please open up the door?”
I got off the bed and undid the deadbolt to let him in. He pushed his way into the room and tossed his small bag on the floor beside the wardrobe.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He opened his arms wide to me. “I got on the first available flight this morning. I thought you might need me.”
I rushed into his arms and rested my head on his shoulder like I used to when I was a little girl. He caressed my hair and kissed me sweetly on the head before stepping back.
“How are you, Georgie?”
“I went to bed on top of the world and woke up in a nightmare. I’m on the cover of every paper. I’m the laughingstock of London. The woman who seduced Perry Gillman away from Annabelle Ellicott.”
“You know what I always say. Today’s headlines are tomorrow’s fish wrap.”
I looked up at him. “You only ever use that line with your clients who are in the most trouble.”
He laughed and took hold of my hands. “You’re not in trouble, Georgie, you’re just the focus of some unwanted attention. It’ll blow over. Things like this always do.”
“Don’t your clients pay like a billion dollars an hour for your sage counsel? You don’t have any other advice to pass on?”
“Be patient, it’ll come to me,” he said, looking around the room. “Where’s your friend, Gideon? What’s he up to?”
“He left hours ago to have brunch with his parents, the Earl and Countess of Harronsby.” I raised my eyebrows. “What do you think the chances are that he’ll be returning to my den of iniquity anytime soon?”
He laughed. “First things first then, let’s get you out of this hotel. You’re holed up in here like some sort of political prisoner.”
I moved the curtain away from the window. “There’s still a ton of press outside. How can I get out of here without being seen?”
“You can’t, but who cares. I’ll have a car waiting for us and we’ll get in it. They’ll snap a few pictures and that’ll be that. The important question is where we can find decent Chinese food in this city?”
Back when I was a dramatic, headstrong teenager, I’d found my father’s pragmatic nature nothing short of infuriating. I never felt like he quite understood me or my rollercoaster of emotions. Now, I was beyond grateful for his calm nature and steady resolve. It was comforting and reassuring in a way nothing else had been since I awoke to this storm.
“Go take a shower. Maybe change out of that Camp Chinooka T-shirt unless you really want to feed the gossip mill. Let’s go seek out the best eggrolls London has to offer,” he said.
“There’s a place called Y Ting in Soho. The hot and sour soup is decent, but the fried rice excellent. Gideon discovered it when he was trying to find a place to best Wo Hop,” I said with a longing smile.
My father put his arm around me. “He’ll come back around, Georgie, just give him some time to digest all this.”
I changed clothes and dug around my tote for my largest pair of sunglasses. It was early evening but it seemed the right accessory for my current situation. My father called for a car. When the driver texted to let us know he was downstairs, we headed down to the lobby to meet it.
As the elevator doors opened, my father took hold of my hand and we walked quickly through the lobby. As soon as we stepped foot outside, we were met by a barrage of flashes and people shouting my name. My father ushered me into the car and we sped off toward the restaurant. I looked back to see if we were being followed, but the driver managed to dodge all the trailing paparazzi. We fortunately managed to make it all the way to Y Ting without being followed.
The hostess offered us a table in front, but my father slipped her £20 and asked if we could be seated at the table in the far back corner of the restaurant. I could only imagine what kind of date she assumed we were on. She pocketed the money and led us to the darkest corner of the place, well concealed by several large potted plants and a massive fish tank that divided the space.
“I think you’re okay to take off your sunglasses in here,” Dad said.
I looked around and then pushed the sunglasses onto the top of my head. The waitress came over to take our drink orders. My father ordered a gin martini and asked me what I wanted. I started to order a vodka gimlet but changed my mind and asked her to bring me out a bottle of sparkling water instead. A clear head seemed the safer route.
I skimmed down the list of specials. “I’m thinking two hot and sour soups and a Moo Goo Gai Pan.”
“We should try something completely new.”
“Yeah? What are you thinking?”
He perused the menu and then said, “What about sizzling oysters and the prawns in a sweet hot sauce?”
“Wow, Dad, really stepping outside your comfort zone.”
He closed the menus and called the waitress back over. We placed our order and handed them over to her.
“How long are you in town for?” I asked.
“I’m going to stop over in the London office tomorrow for a bit and then catch the evening flight out.”
“You really came just to check on me?”
He smiled and unfolded his napkin on his lap. A short time later, the waitress brought out our dishes. My father served me two heaping spoonfuls from each dish and then served himself the same. He poured us each a cup of tea and lifted it up to make a toast.
“To my daughter who created a wedding gown for the ages. I could not be more proud of you.”
My eyes brimmed with tears. Yesterday’s headlines—all the praise and fanfare over Victoria’s wedding dress—had become today’s fish wrap. And today’s headlines referring to me as a “cheater” and “the other woman” were all anyone could talk about. In all the frenzy, even I’d forgotten about yesterday’s triumph. I was touched to know my father hadn’t.
We spent the next two hours eating and catching up on the wedding, Jamie and Thom’s twins, and Gideon. Finally and inevitably, the conversation turned to Perry.
“You don’t have to tell me, but if things are really over between you two, why was he in your room last night?”
“He thinks he made a mistake letting me go.”
“Well, anyone could’ve told him that.”
“He said everything I’ve been waiting over a year to hear, only he said it a year too late.”
My father leaned back in his chair. “Is it ever really too late to try to repair things with the love of your life? Look, Georgie, I know you think I liked Perry because we share a common interest in jazz, MacLellan Whiskey, and The War of the Roses. But, there was only one common interest that ever really mattered to me.”
I put down my chopsticks. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“You. Are you sure you don’t want to give him a second chance?’
“I’m with Gideon. He’s a really good guy. Better than I probably deserve—and after today I’m not sure he wants anything to do with me.”
My father reached over, placing one hand over my own. He used the other to motion for the waitress. “Let me grab the check and we’ll head back to the hotel. Things will look better in the morning. They always do.”
He took my hand and we walked out of the restaurant where our black car was waiting for us. My father asked the driver to take us back to The Savoy.
“Do you mind if we drive around for a bit? I’m not ready to face the firing squad just yet.”
He nodded and asked the driver to take us on the more scenic route through town. My father opened up his arms and motioned for me crawl in. I leaned into his broad chest and stared out the window as building after building whizzed by. A few minutes later, I could feel his phone vibrating through his pants pocket.
I sat up. “Dad, you’re ringing.”
He reached in and pulled out the phone. “It’s your mother.”
I could only hear his side of the conversation but could easily guess what she was saying on the other end. Just as he was reassuring my mother for the fourth time that I wasn’t suicidal, we passed St Paul’s Cathedral.
I leaned forward and asked the driver if he could stop the car.
“Hold on Kate, let me talk to Georgie for one second.” My father took the phone away from his ear. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop the car?”
“I think I’m gonna go inside the church for a few minutes.”
“It’s late. It must be closed?”
I remembered what Gideon had told me on our first date. “Churches never really close. I’ll grab a taxi back to the hotel when I’m done.”
“No, you take the car. I’ll leave it for you and I’ll get the taxi.”
I reached over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be back soon.
“Take as long as you need.”
I tiptoed into the church. The evening service had just ended and there were a few worshipers and straggling tourists left in the pews. Immediately, a sense of calm and composure washed over me. I wasn’t a particularly religious person but could see why people sought sanctuary in churches. The troubles of the world remain outside the large iron doors and inside the only person you have to face is yourself.
I sat down as a boys’ choir shuffled in for their evening rehearsal. I closed my eyes to listen to the beautiful hymns and anthems, getting lost in lyrics about mistakes and redemption—love and forgiveness. So much so, that sometime later, I realized most of the worshipers had gone and I was one of the only people left in the chapel.
I found a guard and asked him if the Whispering Gallery was still open to visitors. He looked at his watch and told me it would be closing in about 45 minutes, so I’d better hurry up if I wanted to visit.
I rushed over to the entrance and bounded up the 259 steps to the top, barely stopping to catch my breath. When I got up the landing, I walked to the railing that peered over the main chapel. I leaned in and listened to a guide explaining the acoustics of the room to the last group of tourists still in the gallery.
“Whisper along the curving wall and—provided there isn’t too much background noise—someone positioned anywhere along that same wall should be able to hear you.”
The tourists took off in different directions to try it. Maybe they’d have more luck than Gideon and I had our first time here?
I checked my watch. The gallery would be closing in just a few minutes. I turned around to pick up my bag from where I’d set it down and there—like an apparition—was Gideon standing right in front of me.
“How’d you know where to find me?” I asked as he approached.
“I went back to the hotel to talk to you. Your father told me you were at St. Paul’s.”
I swung my bag over my shoulder. “I needed a quiet place to think.”
“When I didn’t see you in the chapel, I thought maybe I’d missed you.”
I shook my head. “I figured I’d take one more trip up here. Who knows when I’ll be back in town next?”
“What do you mean?”
“The royal wedding’s done. I think it’s probably best if I lay low for a bit. Maybe I’ll travel? Find a small town in Italy or Spain where I can become anonymous for a few months while things die down.”
“Where does that leave us?”
I took a few steps toward him. “Look, I understand if this is too much for you. You come from a conservative family. Your parents are friendly with the Ellicotts. We have so many things stacked against us. Distance. Gossip. I’m not even sure you really believe nothing happened between Perry and me and I wouldn’t blame you for assuming the worst.” I stroked the side of his face. “Let’s just part ways here and know it was wonderful while it lasted but that nothing this good lasts forever.”
“I do believe you.” He lifted my bag back off my shoulder and placed it back on the ground. “I’ll admit those pictures were tough to swallow. But you told me last night that nothing happened, so I know nothing happened.”
“What about the rest of it? This story isn’t going to die down anytime soon. Perry’s more famous than ever. Last night, Victoria became the future Queen of England. The whole world thinks I betrayed her and her sister.”
“Gossip’s gossip. People will talk until there’s something else more interesting to talk about. We can wait it out.”
“And the distance?”
Gideon took my hands into his. “My offer still stands. Don’t go Italy or Spain. Come to Badgley Hall. Lay low there. Figure out your next move. Be with me, Gigi. I promise I’ll keep the world away. With my bare hands if I have to.”
I closed my eyes and thought of the deep hedge maze at Badgley Hall. I pictured myself entering it, outrunning all the paparazzi and photographers who chased close behind. Gideon’s steady confident voice coaxing me to the other side while they remained lost in the maze, bumping up against the walls and each other.
When I opened my eyes, I found Gideon’s sweet and generous face. He meant every word and I loved him all the more for it. He was not only willing to weather the storm, no matter how long it raged on, but to give me shelter from it. He was dependable and honorable. He was a man who kept his promises.
“If I can’t convince you, maybe this will. Go stand over on that side of the wall.” He pointed to one end of the gallery.
I raised my eyebrows. “What are you up to?”
“Just do it. I’m gonna go stand over there,” he said, pointing to the other end of the room.
I reluctantly took my spot at the far side of the room while he jogged over to the opposite wall. He motioned for me to lean my head in and close my eyes. I tilted my head forward and firmly squeezed my eyes shut.
Moments later, I heard his whisper as it bounced off the gallery wall. I shook my head in disbelief. I couldn’t possibly have heard that right? I opened my eyes and looked over at Gideon Our gaze locked and he began walking toward me.
He approached, kissed me softly, and got down on one knee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful antique diamond and platinum ring.
“Will you?” he asked.
“Marry you?”
“I’ve had this ring in my pocket for weeks now trying to figure out the right way and time to do this. But here we are. Fate has led us back to the same place we spent our first date and I couldn’t imagine a more perfect moment. So, I ask you, Georgica Reid Goldstein. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
I threw my arms around him and then asked him to go back to the other side of the room. Before I could give the question a second thought, I closed my eyes, faced the wall, and whispered… “Yes.”