“The Italians. They’re animals, all of them,” she said, striking a pose when one of them lifted his hand to wave at her. “All they want to do is get in my pants. As if. I’m holding out for the lord’s brother.”
“The who now?”
“One of the English teams has two brothers of a real English lord on it. Can you imagine being a lady with a real castle? You could totally have a show about that.”
“A show,” I repeated, feeling particularly stupid. “A TV show?”
“Yeah. My dad’s the producer,” she said, suddenly raking me over with a scathing glance. “You one of the crew?”
“I guess so. I’m going to be in the suffragette car.”
She stared at me for a minute, then made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “No offense, but you aren’t at all the sort of person who should be in my car.”
“Yourcar?”
“I’m the lead suffragette.” She tapped at her phone, sliding through a number of texts. “Dad was going to make me be in the U.S. car, but Mom put a stop to that. As if I was going to ride around in a car where you can’t even see me?”
“I don’t think I know what you’re talking about,” I said, confused. “You mean the car had a top? I thought they were all convertibles back then?”
She flipped through more text messages. “The U.S. car—you know, the modern one?” I must have looked as puzzled as I felt, because she continued, with another irritated noise. “There are two races. One for the old cars, and one two months later for the new ones. Mom says the cameras are going to be on the old cars more because we’ll be wearing costumes, and it’s all veryDownton Abbey, and people like that sort of thing. The new-car race is just a race, you know.”
“Huh. I had no idea there were two separate races, but I guess it makes sense.”
“So.” She tucked away her phone and gave me a pointed look. “You’ll be on my team, then. Naturally, I’ll be the driver and the spokeswoman for the group, and the English girl said she can do the navigation stuff, which means you get to be the mechanic. I hope you’re handy with tools.”
“Uh...” She sashayed off before I could answer, making for a cluster of men in identical shiny midnight blue suits. I gathered by the way they greeted her that they were the Italian team, and had to admit that Tessa was right—they were easy on the eyes.
Just as I was thinking of joining the group in order to meet my fellow race contestants, a small gaggle of women and a man entered the ballroom. The man stopped to talk to the guy at the door, but the three women made a beeline for the Italians, who greeted them with cries of joy.
“Well, hell,” I said aloud to myself, my spirits dropping at the sight of the women clinging to the men. “There goes my shot at sexual gratification with a handsome foreigner.”
I felt a movement at my side and turned to see the man who had entered with the women was now next to me, giving me a quizzical look that included a raised eyebrow.
“Tell me you didn’t just hear me say that,” I said, blushing like crazy.
“I’m afraid I did.”
“Oh god. And you’re... British?”
“I am,” he said, inclining his head in agreement. One side of his mouth twitched. “I believe that, technically, that makes me a foreigner.”
“Oh god,” I repeated, and covered my face.
He gave a hoarse little chuckle, a sound that was oddly pleasing despite the fact that I wished the ground would open up before me so I could fling myself in. “I’m sorry—that was unfair of me.”
“Unfair?” I opened my fingers so I could look at him through them. “How so?”
“‘Unkind,’ perhaps, is a better word,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I’ve embarrassed you either way, and for that I apologize.”
I dropped my hands and considered him. He was a little taller than me and had short auburn hair, hazel eyes that were mostly grayish blue, and a strong jaw that made my stomach quiver a little. “I’m the one who says something inappropriate, and you apologize? You definitely are British.” I smiled to make sure he understood I was gently teasing him, and added, “I’m Paulina Rostakova, by the way, but I go by Paulie. Oh crap. I meant Paulie Lewes.”
“Indeed?” He looked somewhat surprised by my correction.
“Yeah, it’s a bit complicated. My dad won’t let me use my name because... well, because reasons.”
He offered his hand, which I shook while he said, “I’m Dixon Ainslie. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Paulie Lewes.”
“Oh, you’re one of Mercy’s brothers-in-law.”
