ME: Come to my room when you’re done, k?
It’s another half hour before Libby knocks. I’m half asleep on top of the covers. I wipe a trickle of drool off my cheek and call, “Come in!”
“Hey! How was practice? Did you have a good night?”
“It was fine. So, tell me everything. How did it go?” I pat the bed next to me.
“I’m knackered. Mind if we chat in the morning? I’ll give you the full scoop.”
“No. Come. Sit.”
She obeys, kicking her shoes off and sinking into the mattress.
“How’d it go?” I repeat.
“We had so much fun. He’s a great guy! I completely understand what you see in him now.”
“How was dinner?”
“Delicious! Maharajah was a good choice. I had the tandoori chicken. And their popadams are to die for.”
“That’s nice,” I say distractedly. “What did you talk about?”
“Oh, everything. Honestly, it was kind of awkward at first: there was a lot of small talk about classes. He’s really having issues in maths, so I told him I’d help tutor him.”
“That’s cool. He’ll appreciate that.”
“Eventually, I talked about how we grew up in Guildford, he talked about going back and forth between Cedar Hall and Kensington Palace as a kid, we both talked about how scared we were to go away for boarding school. But at one point I brought up Dad and how he’s freaking out about my going to university, and that got him talking about his dad and university, and then the floodgates opened. He’s stressing about all that Firm business. It seems like a lot for somebody our age to deal with alone.”
This is news to me. “Firm business?”
“The Firm? Hasn’t he said anything?”
“Um, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s what they call the royal family. King Henry coined it.”
“Huh. Can’t say he’s mentioned it.”
Libby looks chastened. “I’m sorry, I thought you two had talked about it. I know this sounds silly, Lotte, but I’d better not say anything else. I don’t want to betray his confidence.”
“Are you serious?” I can feel my face getting red. “Libby, you’ve known him for like a week. I’m dating him.”
“I know. It’s just . . . if he hasn’t told you, I don’t want him thinking I blabbed. You know how I feel about discretion.” Libby is like a vault when it comes to keeping secrets, which I’ve always admired—plus, it has served me well with our parents. But I don’t care about any of that now. I’m annoyed.
“You’re my sister!”
“Charlotte, I’m sorry. It just doesn’t feel right. Wouldn’t you feel bad if you told me something in confidence and then I blabbed it to Edward?”
“No,” I say sullenly. “Plus, that’s different. You should have loyalty to me over some guy.”
“Now he’s suddenly just some guy?” she says, smiling a little, as if she expects me to joke with her. I won’t take the bait.
“I don’t think it’s right for my sister and my boyfriend to have secrets,” I say, sitting up straight in bed and crossing my arms over my chest. “That’s lame.”
Libby sighs, her smile fading. “I’m sorry, Lotte. I’m not trying to be lame, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings. But it has nothing to do with you or me. It’s not my secret to share. Please understand.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeats.
“Stop saying that! I don’t accept your apology.”
She sits up on the bed. “I should probably go. It’s late.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
She moves toward the door, beginning to close it and then peeking out from behind it. “Should I keep it open?”
I shrug. “Do what you want.”
“Breakfast tomorrow morning?” she asks hopefully.
But I don’t respond, not turning around until I hear her footsteps echoing down the hall.
It’s been awkward since Libby wouldn’t tell me what Edward said. I don’t believe in holding grudges, but I sulk for a couple of days to let her know that her behavior was unacceptable.
“Want to get lunch?” she asks, stopping by my bedroom on Saturday for the second day in a row.
“No, thanks,” I say, flipping through my maths textbook.
She stands there until I look up.
“Yes?”
“Are you still mad at me? Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little bit?”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Charlotte, come on. You’re being silly.”
“Did you only stop by to insult me, or was there another reason, too? Do you want to tell me all about how terrible I am at maths while you’re at it?”
Libby scratches her head and sighs. “I don’t know why you’re punishing me. He’s the one you’re dating. He’s the one you should be annoyed at.”
“And you’re my sister.”
“Charlotte, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry? You know how I feel about sharing other people’s secrets. I would keep yours from anybody, no questions asked.”
“Can’t you just tell me a little bit of what he said?”
Libby groans. “You’re insufferable. It’s been four days. Haven’t you talked to him about this yet?”
“No.” In truth, I haven’t even seen Edward since his dinner with Libby. Apparently, he’s been skipping classes, and none of us has seen him for any meals. His mind is clearly somewhere else. And if I’m being honest, I haven’t really been seeking him out, either. Libby’s right—I’m upset with him for revealing something to her that he won’t talk about with me.
“Why not? The hallmark of a good relationship is communication.”
“What, because you know so much about relationships from the hundreds of boyfriends you’ve had? Have you ever even kissed a boy?”
Libby’s face falls. “You’re being mean. I’ll see you later.”
“Libby, wait.” I push myself up off the bed. She’s already halfway down the hall, walking quickly. “Libby. Libby!” I chase her in my bare feet. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes are wet. “It’s not fair to drag me into the middle of this. I didn’t ask to have dinner with him. You suggested it.”
“You’re right.”
“I didn’t want to leave Greene House—I liked it there.”
“Of course.” I’m surprised that she’s bringing this up now.
“Having to switch schools in my last year was awful. I miss my friends, I miss feeling like I fit in, but at least I’m trying. It’s not my fault that Edward is keeping secrets from you, but now you’re punishing me for it instead of talking to him about it. Please don’t put your relationship issues on me.”
“Absolutely,” I say soothingly. “You’re right. Let me run back to my room and put some shoes on and we’ll go down to lunch.”
As we walk to the dining hall, Libby is quiet. Finally, she says, “I am sorry. I hate keeping secrets. Why can’t you just talk to him about it? I’m sure he’d be happy to have your support.”
“I will,” I say, even though I’d rather swallow knives than ask Edward why he felt comfortable confiding in my sister but not in me.
“I haven’t, you know,” she says. Her voice is quiet as we walk outside onto the quad.
“You haven’t what?”
“Kissed a boy. Not yet.”