“A beer would be great, thanks.”
“I’ll take one, too, please, Flossie!” I call after her. I lower my voice, muttering to Edward, “I mean, might as well take advantage of her scurrying around after you.” Normally I’d be more deferential to Flossie, but I’m taking a risk that Edward will be amused.
He raises an eyebrow. “India told me you were a bit of a firecracker.”
“Did she?”
“Among other things.”
“Really? What other things?”
“It’ll only make you blush.”
“Try me!”
“She said you were gorgeous, for one,” he says, holding up his hands and ticking off fingers. “She also said you were smart, a great athlete, and had excellent taste in men. So far I know she got three out of four right.”
The corners of his mouth hook upward, and his eyes dance back and forth between mine. His eyes are dark blue, like my favorite J.Crew jumper. I find myself fighting the urge to lean forward and kiss him.
We’re off to a very good start.
three
The full party has arrived, and twenty of us are lounging by the swimming pool as the stars twinkle and fireflies buzz. Huntshire backs up onto one of the most spectacular gardens in England—a vast expanse of hedges, greenery, flowers, and a Hampton Court–inspired maze.
I walk over to the edge of the pool, where it slopes down a green incline leading to the maze, and plop myself next to Oliver on a crumbling stone fence. He’s tall and handsome but not at all my type: very buttoned up, with close-cropped reddish-blond hair and a stiff, slightly awkward manner. His father is one of the top bigwigs in the British army—like a general or something.
“What are you drinking?” I ask. His plastic cup is full of a brownish liquid.
“Whiskey. Want a sip?”
“Sure, I love whiskey!” I’ve never tasted it before, but I’ve heard it’s revolting. I steel myself as I take a small sip, swirling it around the way I’ve seen my father do at family dinners with my uncle. I swallow gingerly, willing myself to have a poker face as the burning liquid hits my throat. “Good stuff.”
“I’m impressed,” he says. “Most girls can’t handle whiskey.”
“Don’t be sexist. You don’t have to be a boy to drink,” I say, poking him in the ribs. I take another sip, this time slightly bigger, before handing the cup back to him.
As I expected, Edward soon comes over to join us. Seconds later, Flossie appears, too.
“What’s going on?” Edward asks. He sits down on the fence next to me.
“We’re getting our whiskey on,” I say.
“Charlotte’s a tough old bird,” says Oliver approvingly.
“Is she?” Edward asks. He looks at me. “What did you do this time?”
“That’s between Oliver and me,” I say coyly, hoping a little competition will spur Edward on rather than scare him away.
“Hey, Oliver! Flossie! I need your help!” India calls from across the pool. She’s carrying a tray of cupcakes with one hand and a bottle of vodka with the other.
“Duty calls,” says Oliver, marching across the lawn.
“What does she need now?” Flossie sighs, following behind him.
“And then there were two,” I say, leaning back and letting my hair fall over my shoulder.
He meets my gaze and we smile at each other. I’m doing my best to appear cool, but my heart is beating double-time. God, but he’s so cute.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I ask, scanning the situation and taking another risk.
He leans forward. “I’m all ears.”
“Oliver thinks I’m a rock star because I had a sip of whiskey, but I hated it. It tastes like jet fuel.”
Edward laughs. “I know what you mean—I don’t have a taste for anything but beer and cheap wine. When people serve me expensive wine at dinner, it’s such a waste. I have to gulp it down and pretend I know the difference.”
“I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine,” I say, raising my cup.
We lock eyes.
“Oh, but you’re almost out,” Edward says. “Can I get you something?”
“Whatever you’re having,” I say. “Beer is just fine.”
This must be the first time in his life that Prince Edward has been dispatched to get a drink.
He chuckles. “One bottle of Belgium’s finest, coming right up.”
He makes his way over to the icebox and pulls out two bottles of Stella, holding them aloft triumphantly as he returns. He skillfully removes the tops using the ledge of a wall as an opener, banging his palm down over the metal caps.
“Somebody’s been around the block.”
“If you had spent time with my friends growing up, you’d know how to open a beer bottle in three seconds flat, too.”
I do my best to look dainty as I take my first sip. I’m not used to drinking very much at all—whether it’s whiskey or beer.
I notice that Edward is already halfway through his beer, whereas I’ve taken only two small sips. I wonder if he burns through girls as fast.
“What are you two whispering about?” India calls from the side of the pool.
“We’re talking smack about you, obviously,” says Edward.
“Good. As long as I’m at the center of all your thoughts,” India says before turning toward a member of staff trying to get her attention. Flossie stands next to her, holding the tray of cupcakes and looking bored. She and I lock eyes for a second before Flossie smiles at me.
“Is it my imagination, or does Flossie keep giving me weird looks?” I ask in a low voice. He starts to crane his neck and I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “No! Too obvious!”
Edward turns his head and makes a quick sweep of the balcony. “Oh, yes, she obviously hates you. Daggers. I’d lock your door tonight if I were you.”
“You’re terrible,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder, which only serves to push us even closer together. “I’ve known her for a couple of years, but I feel like she’s being kind of weird tonight.”
He cocks his head to the side. “I don’t think she’s being especially weird with you—that’s just Floss. But if I had to guess, I’d say she’s jealous.”
“Jealous? Of me?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?”
“Hmm, that’s true. I am pretty amazing.”
He crooks up an eyebrow in amusement. “Humble, too.”
“I’m just joking.”
He shakes his head. “No, you’re not. And that’s why you are amazing.” He looks back at Flossie discreetly. She’s followed India to the far corner of the garden, where India’s holding court with Oliver, Tarquin, and a few people I don’t know. “I’ve known her since we were infants. Our parents are close friends.”
“Did you two ever date? Is that why she’s jealous?”
“Nah,” he says. “We kissed once when we were like twelve, but it was during a game. She’s had a crush on me ever since.”
“Now you’re the humble one.”
He laughs.
“Technically, we’re related,” he says. “Our great-great-great-grand-whatevers were siblings, so I think we’re fourth cousins.”
“You snogged your cousin? Gross!”
For some reason, Edward finds my reaction hilarious. “Not quite that . . . but sure.”
“So, she’s just not your type?”
“Not even a little bit.” His eyes crinkle.