I haven’t. I pretend I like the element of surprise. “Saving it for later as a treat.”
My mother rolls her eyes.
“You’re sitting next to William Goldsmith.”
The Prime Minister. I hadn’t known he was coming.
“And this is significant because…”
“They’re hoping you get along.”
The bright light that’s filtered into the corridors from the open doors from the rooms has dimmed. The warm sunshine looks like it’s about to capitulate into a summer storm. I recognise the signs, the feel to the air, the darkness. The loch will be an inky pit and the wind will now bring a chill, a nip and a bite from sharp teeth.
“Who’s idea?”
“Your brother’s.”
“And you agreed?” We reach my suite.
“It was the first time he’d shown an interest in the politics of a dinner. I didn’t think. Look, Blair, it’s an evening. Not an arranged marriage.” She stands and faces me.
My mother chose this life and embraced her role. She doesn’t expect the same from me other than not to undo the work they’ve done. If I told her I wanted to marry the caretaker she’d have been supportive as long as they were going to treat me like I deserved.
It isn’t the first time I’d been seated next to a dignitary at a dinner for reasons other than practicalities. Murray sees me as a pawn to be played and sacrificed for the good of various policies, and he and my brother have been spending too much time talking in small secret rooms.
“He’s not my type.”
“Thank God for that.” She isn’t joking. “Just take the information and use it as you see fit.”
She’s given me a head start.
I smile and close the door, looking at the dress that’s been laid out for me to wear. Chosen.
I open my wardrobe and put it back. I have no desire for a pastel ball gown tonight. My role isn’t princess who needs to be courted so I pull out a dress I’ve worn once before, but not in the palace. Not at a formal.
It’s tight fitting, the back bare to the start of my ass but the neck at the front is high, trimmed with iridescent stones. The arms are three quarters and tight, making the bare skin of my back stand out even more and the length stops just above my knee.
It isn’t a dancing dress. It’s a stand and drink cocktails dress. And I feel like me in it.
I shower, straighten my hair, apply make-up, stand down the artist who’s sent to help because he’s rushed off his feet with having so many other people there, partners of politicians, ladies, duchesses. Elise.
The mirror reflects a different woman than usual. My brother wants bait, for me to reel William in and forge a connection that I have no intention of strengthening. These political games aren’t mine for the playing. Instead I’ll make a statement.
Security are discreet and blended, just like my mother’s make-up will be. I don’t see Ben but there’s no way he won’t be on duty, not tonight, not with so many strangers present.
“Blair.”
Lennox’s voice fills the corridor towards the sunroom where everyone is gathering for champagne and canapes.
I turn, see him immaculately dressed in a tux, his hair gelled and styled. See eyes the same as mine. We are both grey tinged with silver. Business.
“I thought you were wearing a ball gown.”
“I didn’t want to.”
His mouth opens, his words stuck. He has never told me what to do, not since the first time he tried.
“I thought you’d dance…”
