“Right. When’s the big meet?”
“I’m heading over there in two hours.”
“In that case, stop at Porter’s Fine Liquors and pick up the most expensive bottle of cognac they’ve got.”
“Okay, good. I can probably swing that. King Winston likes cognac?”
“No idea, but it’s a classy drink,” Pierce says. “To be honest, it’ll likely get passed on to a servant at Christmastime, but the effort will at least count for something.”
“Ooh! What about something for the babies?” Emma says. “People love that when you spoil their children.”
“Good. Okay,” I say, jotting down ‘baby gifts’ on a scrap of paper I found in Dwight’s recycle bin. “But what would you get for toddlers?”
“Let me text Libby,” Emma answers. “She’ll have loads of ideas.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. So what should I wear, Pierce?”
“Depends on what the invite said.”
“Verbal invitation from Arabella.”
“Any clue what you’ll be doing?” Pierce asks.
“Obviously they’re watching the premiere ofPrincess in The Wildtogether…” Emma says in a ‘you should’ve known that’ tone.
“Righto. Congratulations on that, by the way,” Pierce says. “I hope it’s a massive hit.”
“Pierce is going to tweet about it later,” Emma says.
“I am?” Pierce asks.
“Of course you are. Because you want my baby brother to succeed so he doesn’t end up living in our guest room, right?”
“Excellent point. We’ve already had to suffer through my brother living with us. I don’t know if I can handle yours.”
“Thanks for that,” I say, pretending to be offended. “Now what do you hoity-toities wear when you’re heading over to watch telly with the royal family?”
“I’d go sports event casual, myself,” Pierce says.
“Could you be more specific? I seem to have forgotten my chart of appropriate attire for visiting the upper crust.”
“Huge mistake. You should probably laminate it and tether it to your suitcase from now on,” Pierce answers. “Sports event casual includes a sports jacket, obviously, in a casual colour such as navy or light brown. No black. Button up shirt by either House of Bijan or Brioni, preferably in a light blue. Starched and ironed.”
“Obviously,” I say, scrawling notes as quickly as possible with a shaky hand. “And what? A nice pair of dark jeans?”
“God, no. The most casual I would go would be chinos in light tan, starched and ironed with a crease down the front at dead centre, and matching socks. Add a pair of brown leather dress shoes in matte, not shiny—shiny’s too dressy—and you should be good to go.”
“Tell him what kind of belt to wear,” Emma adds.
“Oh right. A belt. I almost forgot,” I say. “Should it match my shoes or what?”
“That would be a safe choice,” he says. “Youdosound nervous. What time is it there?”
“5:42.”
“Hmm, that really doesn’t give you much time. Tell you what, Boccino’s Men’s Wear will still be open for another eighteen minutes. I’ll ring them up and have them stay open late for you. It won’t be cheap, but they’ll make sure you’re royalty-ready.”
“Thanks, Pierce. I really appreciate it. I need everything to go perfectly tonight.”
