“And beyond this, look at what the massive bushfires and deforestation have done environmentally to the region—look what it’s doing to the air quality right here in Singapore. You can feel the effects of these forest fires right now if you just take a deep breath!”
At this point in the interview, the Countess’s husband walks out onto the terrace to join us. He is a tall, blindingly handsome blond fellow who immediately reminds me of Westley from The Princess Bride. I’m surprised by how down-to-earth the Earl is, and when he talks about his new wife, his face lights up like a lovestruck teen. “Colette’s dedication to the orangutan babies—how she handled them, how she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and really just give her all to the cause—really surprised me. It one hundred percent made me fall in love with her. I knew I had found my eco-warrior princess, and after our time together at the camp, I never wanted to let her go.”
“Our mission is just beginning. There’s just so much to do, and that’s why we’ve decided to move to Singapore for the next few years,” the Countess reveals. “This will be an excellent base for our work all over the region,” the Earl chimes in.
Are the Earl and Countess going to commandeer one of Singapore’s toniest properties? “I don’t know if we’ll actually be here all that much, so I think we’ll just lease a little flat someplace very central,” the Countess says. In case you are misled into thinking that the Pallisers have completely hidden away their ermine robes and tiaras in favor of cargo pants and Tevas, Colette reveals that she is in the midst of organizing an event that will no doubt send every reader of this article scrambling for their best jewels.
“I’m going to host a fund-raising ball in aid of orangutan rescue with my friends the Duchess of Oxbridge and Cornelia Guest. Both of them are dedicated conservationists doing such amazing rescue work with animals—Alice with endangered sea turtles, and Cornelia with miniature horses. Hopefully we’ll have friends from all over the world jetting in for a ball that will be inspired by Marie-Hélène de Rothschild’s legendary Proust Ball at Chateau Ferrières.”
If history is to be repeated again, the enchanted evening promises to be the most highly anticipated gala of the spring charity season, and hopefully, it’s the start of many good things to come from this gorgeous, aristocratic, and conscious couple.
When he was done reading, Oliver immediately called Violet Poon at Tattle. “Can you please explain why there’s a fucking monkey on the cover of your magazine this month instead of Kitty Bing?”
“Oh Oliver, I was going to call you! It was a last-minute mandate that came from my boss. They’re running this cover story on every edition of Tattle around the world this month. It’s such an important story.”
“So what happens to Kitty’s important story?”
“Well, since Colette was on the cover this month, we felt like a little, ahem, diplomacy was in order. Of course we couldn’t put Kitty’s story in the same issue. I mean, she is her stepmother. We wouldn’t want to offend either of them. But you know I adore Kitty’s cover! Those Nigel pictures are just beyond! We’re going to save it for later in the year. It’ll actually be much better in the fall, don’t you think? Wouldn’t it be a fabulous cover for the September issue?”
Oliver went silent for a moment, trying to figure out how he was going to explain all this to Kitty.
“I hope Kitty won’t be upset about this? We will give her the star treatment, I promise. We’ll throw a cover launch party at some boutique.”
“Upset? Violet, I don’t think you have any clue what you’ve done. You’ve just started World War III.”
“Oh dear…”
“I have to go. I need to see if I can disarm the nuclear warhead now.”
Oliver hung up with Violet, took a deep breath, and called Kitty’s number. He found her eerily composed when he explained the whole situation to her. “I actually think this is going to be much better for you, Kitty. Landing a fall cover is more prestigious. Think of the September issue of Vogue. That’s always the biggest issue of the year. You’ll get so much more exposure. Far less people will see the March issue of Tattle, and to be honest, it’s a ghastly cover. Look at that mother orangutan and her saggy brown nipples.”
“Did you read the article?” Kitty said quietly.
“I did.”
“So you know that Colette is moving to Singapore with her husband. The royal couple!”
“Kitty, they aren’t royal.”
“Oh yeah? So tell me why they were getting the royal treatment at your great-aunt’s funeral? Don’t try to deny it, I saw the pictures of Colette with the Dowager Sultana of Perawak on the official royal Instagram! You lied to me! You promised me she wouldn’t be there!”
“Kitty, I had no clue that her husband’s family knew my great-uncle Alfred’s family. This isn’t some conspiracy.”
“It’s not? Then why does it feel like she’s doing everything she can to outshine me? She gets invited to the funeral of the century, she steals my Tattle cover, and now she’s throwing this big charity ball in Singapore to raise money for her damn monkeys!”
“Those orangutans need all the help they can get, Kitty.”
“That’s not the point. Colette is hosting this huge ball so that all of Singapore society can come out and curtsy at her feet, like she’s the Queen of fucking Sheba! You know she’s doing all this as revenge, don’t you? She’s just trying to insult me over and over again!”
Oliver sighed in exasperation. “Kitty, don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion? You haven’t even met Colette. You have no idea what’s going through her mind! I really don’t think this girl has any interest in insulting you.”
“Of course she’s insulted me, and she’s insulted my husband. Did you notice that she didn’t mention Jack once? Who do you think is funding all her monkey business?”
“Kitty, you’re just building all this up in your head and sending yourself into a tailspin.”
“No, I’m sending you into a tailspin. I want you to get me a title. I want a proper royal title that’s higher-ranking than Colette’s.”
Oliver sighed. “Kitty, getting you any sort of title is going to take time. Living in Singapore, you could aim for an honorific from one of the Malay royal families. But you’d have to do an obscene amount of sucking up. Best-case scenario if you play your cards right, you may be able to receive a title within a few years.”
“No, I’m not waiting that long. I don’t care what you have to do, how much you have to spend. I want a title and I want it before Colette’s stupid monkey ball.”
“That’s just not realistic, Kitty. I mean, I do know a few bisexual Italian princes that might be willing—in exchange for certain financial incentives—to marry you, but you’ll have to divorce Jack.”
Kitty scoffed. “What are you talking about? I’m not divorcing my husband!”