“Oh, we can always see the garden another time,” said Rebecca.
“Lottie? Isn’t that the German nanny’s name?” The Boker’s eyes were wide with astonishment, and she didn’t even notice Rebecca unobtrusively making herself scarce, along with her glass of punch. “What, may I ask, do you think you’re doing associating with your brother’s inamorata’s nanny?”
“First…,” said Charles, looking around for Rebecca, but she was out of earshot, beginning a conversation with Florence and the Admiral. “And secondly…” He took a deep breath. “And thirdly, I’m not letting you tell me who I can like and who I can’t.”
Mrs. Spencer looked as if she might fall down in a faint right away. “Do you mean to say that you like that … that stupid, uneducated German girl?”
Mia indignantly gasped for air. Emily and Grayson were looking shocked as well. I was the only one keeping my cool. It must be because of the punch. Great stuff. I’d have to get the recipe.
Charles nodded. “Yes, I do like Lottie. Not that there’s anything going on between us…”
I warmed to him again at that moment, so I forgave him for not putting Mrs. Spencer right about the words stupid and uneducated.
“Then you’d better make sure it stays that way.” Mrs. Spencer compressed her lips. “It’s bad enough your brother breaking his heart over that Wallis Simpson look-alike, and now my younger son shows a perverse liking for the servant class. I don’t think I’ll survive it.” She was struggling for air. “I can hardly breathe!”
“Because you’re choking on your own nasty nature,” said Mia, not quite as quietly as maybe she thought.
“I could do with a little fresh air myself,” Emily intervened. “And I’d very much like to see around the garden, even in the twilight.” She exchanged a glance with Grayson and took the Boker’s arm. “And my mother wants me to ask what fertilizer you use on your hydrangeas.”
Her diplomacy worked. Mrs. Spencer let herself be led away. “You’re an angel, Emily,” we heard her saying, and even if I wouldn’t necessarily have agreed, I had to say that for once Emily was doing something sensible.
“Can I borrow your iPhone?” Mia had already taken it out of Grayson’s pocket. “I have to Google ‘inamorata.’ And find out about this Simpson woman. And then I must read up on crimes of passion.”
She was so angry she’d gone pale all over. I’d probably have felt the same if the punch hadn’t made me feel nice and woozy.
“I’m thirty-nine years old, and I really don’t need my mother telling me what to do anymore,” Charles exploded, if a little late in the day.
“Lottie isn’t stupid, and she’s not after anyone’s money either,” hissed Mia at him, while her fingers flew over the display.
“I know that,” said Charles.
“She’s clever and beautiful—why would she want anything to do with a dentist? I mean, she could have anyone!”
“I know that,” Charles repeated.
“Would you like some of the hot punch, Mia?” asked Grayson. “I think it would do you good.”
“Are you crazy? She’s only thirteen.” I snatched the ladle from his hand. “Do you want her dancing on the tables? It’s enough for one of us to be drunk. I feel sort of muzzy. I can’t be responsible for my actions.”
“You can’t?” Grayson was grinning. “Very interesting.”
“I never usually drink alcohol,” I defended myself. “But your grandmother is really … and if I’m supposed to be singing the national anthem … oh, help, am I slurring my words already?”
“No!” Grayson was laughing uproariously now. “Liv, there isn’t any alcohol at all in that punch—it’s just hot orange juice with spices.”
“What?” Wasn’t I drunk after all? Not even a little tipsy? But then why had they made such a fuss about this famous punch? Famous! I ask you! But okay, that explained why you couldn’t taste the alcohol in it.
“And as for the national anthem, I was only joking,” Grayson went on, sounding pleased with himself. “No one has any intention of singing, I assure you. Either drunk or sober. And do you see any portrait of the Queen around here?”
I stared at him. “You made it up? You were just tricking us?” Reluctantly, I had to admit that he’d done it pretty well. “I’d never have expected you to show so much imagination and abject cunning,” I said with an appreciative grin.
“Well, you underestimate me.” Grayson took the ladle away from me again. “Now you know that it won’t get you drunk and you don’t have to sing, would you like a little more?”
“No, it wouldn’t be any fun now.” I looked thoughtfully at Grayson. With the expression on his face at the moment, I could imagine what he had looked like as a little boy, cheerful and perfectly happy with himself, nothing to worry about. “Did you really give Emily a symbol of infinity?”
Grayson’s smile turned several degrees cooler.
“I mean, do you know how long infinity lasts?” I asked. “Longer than a lifetime.”