That evening I descend the stairs to the dining room and discover a second place has been set at the table. I ring the bell to summon either Taylor or Francois, and wait impatiently for one of them to appear.
“What’s this?” I ask, pointing to the second place.
Francois shrugs. “I do not know, sir.”
I sigh. “Francois, how can you not know? If there’s to be someone else for dinner then you must know. You’re the cook.”
Francois looks sheepish and moves uncomfortably on the spot.
“It’s my fault,” says a familiar voice. A naked figure emerges from the shadows of the hallway. “I asked him not to say anything.”
“Eduardo!”
I leap up from my chair and rush over to where he’s standing. I throw my arms around him and kiss him on the cheek before remembering how we parted. I release him from my
