Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
He’s off without pause to slip himself into the conversation surrounding Hartness, leaving Ben and me in his dust.
“My roommate,” I explain. “I was threatened with bodily harm if I didn’t bring him. Now I’m wondering what I’ve set loose on this unsuspecting party.”
“Ah, I see. I was afraid I’d become the third wheel.”
Ben closes the gap between us as he accepts two glasses of champagne from a passing tray to hand one to me.
I hold back a laugh that Ben thought Lee and I were a thing. “No, it’s not like that. Lee has greater ambitions. He plans to marry up. Tonight, if possible.”
At that, Ben’s wry smile returns. “I’m rooting for him.”
One sip of the champagne almost knocks me on my ass. It’s as if I’ve never tasted the stuff until now. Everything before it was swill. Swamp water. I’m only bathing in this from now on. Pouring it on my cereal. Boiling my pasta in it. Transfusing my blood with it. I finally understand the fascination with the stuff.
“Good?” Ben prompts.
“You people have been holding out on us. No wonder the French invented guillotines.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “A Yank isn’t inside the palace ten minutes before she’s plotting a violent revolution.”
“Start planning your escape routes,” I say with a smile.
“Before we lose our heads then, shall we have a dance?”
He extends his arm to me.
This is one of those moments. When you’re entirely present and aware of the memories you’re making. A moment you’ll never have a second chance at, so best to squeeze the most from it.
“Love to.”
25
BEN ESCORTS ME TO THE DANCE FLOOR, PASSING OFF OUR champagne glasses to a waiter. Vaguely familiar faces and attractive people with perfect posture dance to the orchestral arrangement of a twenty-year-old soft rock song. He clasps my hand delicately in his and places his other at a polite height on my back. I imagine the sixty-year-old dance teacher who smacked his hands with a ruler until he was as light as a butterfly.
“You’re making a face,” he says, watching me.
“I’ve never danced like this. Not well anyway.” This is miles beyond a prom sway.
His brown eyes soften. “You’re doing fine.”
“Let’s make a deal? I won’t lock the doors and set the curtains on fire if you can manage to keep me from embarrassing myself.”
He breathes out a laugh. “I will venture to do my best. For Britain.”
After a verse or two, I start to get the hang of it. Ben’s a good dancer. Effortless. By the second song, I’ve forgotten to feel self-conscious while Ben narrates the gossip about the other guests. The British reality TV star who went to school with the bridegroom and whose father is now dating her ex-boyfriend. The queen’s second cousin, whose husband, it was recently revealed, spent the last three summers on a German billionaire’s private sex island.
“We’re all either on the brink of bankruptcy, sex scandal, or both,” Ben says with self-deprecating humor.
“All I did last night was wash my hair and watch TV. A scandal might be a nice change of pace.”
“Please, you’re welcome to meet with my lawyers next Thursday if you like. Perhaps you can explain to me why I’m paying them so much to tell me I’m broke.”
A while later, Lee finds us on the dance floor. His eyes are wide and bright, whatever news he’s harboring practically tearing past his lips. “Can I borrow her?”
Ben steps back. “By all means. I’ll see if I can’t locate the lavatory. There are nearly eighty, I’m told.”
Lee takes Ben’s place, hugging me close as he wraps his arm around my waist and sets a quicker rhythm to his step. He’s buzzing with energy.
“Having fun?” I tease.
“I’m in love.”
“That was quick. Have you and Colin set a date yet?”
Lee recoils. “The boxer? God no. I’m in love with Eric.”
“Poor Colin. He was cute.”
“And we shared a beautiful moment in one of the eighty bathrooms. But I can’t listen to that accent for the rest of my life. And then, my dear Abbey, I met Eric,” he says with a yearning that is almost lewd. “His family builds yachts.”
“It’s everything you’ve always wanted.”
“Like, okay, I know I sound like a shallow bitch. He does have other qualities. He likes jazz and nature documentaries.”
Neither of which I’ve ever seen Lee express an interest in. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“What about you?” he asks as we rock back and forth in our little circle of the dance floor. “Shall I start calling you Lady Tulley?”
“Definitely not. I mean, Ben’s great company. But this isn’t a date. It’s practically a business meeting.”
Lee raises one eyebrow.
“What?”
“Hey, I’m thrilled to mooch off your new friendship. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just saying, men like that don’t bring beautiful young women to a bloody palace for what is essentially a homework assignment.”