I used to be able to hide behind my sisters when this kind of thing happened, but tonight, I was alone. Winnie hadn’t made the journey, which honestly hadn’t surprised me. London offered far more interesting entertainment than a countryside engagement dinner for her sister.
As for Eugenie, she hadn’t come either, but I hadn’t spoken to her in any serious capacity for the last several years. We sent messages on birthdays and occasionally shared family news, but the easy closeness we’d had as children had long since faded into polite distance. Marrying her ex-boyfriend certainly wasn’t going to help matters much. I still hadn’t heard a word from her since the contract had been offered to me instead.
Even Jesse had been dragged away with the men while I stayed at the table, quite content on my own, but that changed abruptly when the wives descended. They appeared in clusters of one or two, drifting over while the men gathered near the fireplace with their scotch.
A third joined, then another, until I found myself surrounded by a semicircle of strange women smiling at me while they clucked like little hens. I’d met most of them before, of course, but I didn’t really know any of them.
Not that you’d say it for the way they’re looking at me right now.
“Eliza, darling, the ring is magnificent,” the first cooed, grabbing my hand in a gentle grip and curving my fingers around her palm.
Another leaned in closer. “Oh my, look at the size of that stone.”
“You must be over the moon.”
I sat frozen between them, but they barely seemed to notice my discomfort, their attention squarely on my left hand and the diamond Jesse had slid onto my finger earlier. It was glittering enthusiastically under the chandelier, like it was putting on a show for them. I didn’t mind. As long as they were gawking at the ring, at least they weren’t looking at me.
“Yes,” I said politely once I finally realized they were looking at me expectantly. “We’re very happy. The ring is lovely.”
It was also gaudy, the weight of it on my finger uncomfortable, but I would never say any of that. Objectively, it was a beautiful ring, modern and flashy. I simply would have preferred something a little…less.
Another woman leaned closer with an approving smile. “Your fiancé is extremely handsome.”
Well, she’s not wrong there.
I’d been struggling to keep my eyes off him tonight myself, dressed as he was in a dark tuxedo with his rich brown hair neatly styled and his eyes somehow sparkling brighter than ever before. He stood across the room with the other men, a glass of scotch in his hand and his head thrown back as he laughed.
One of the wives followed my gaze. “Such a handsome blue-blooded American,” she said, covering a giggle with her hand. “He certainly looks the part, doesn’t he?”
A few of the others murmured their agreement. I didn’t even know who they were and yet, they were positively swooning over my fiancé. I didn’t know how to feel about that, other than not being able to blame them at all.
The first woman who’d come over finally dropped into the seat beside mine. “He’s from Chicago, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I replied quietly. “It’s a lovely city.”
Lovely. There’s that word again. I need a new one. Pronto.
“I heard the Westwoods are quite the family.” She smiled at me like we were sharing a secret. “It must be so exciting, the prospect of going over there to live with him.”
“It certainly is. It’s going to be lovely.” I returned her smile, outwardly gracious, but internally, I would’ve very much preferred to be upstairs in my room.
Usually, I could sneak away from these events, but tonight, I was the guest of honor. That meant curling up beneath my blankets and continuing the novel I’d started last night would have to wait.
Instead, I tried to come up with a few different words to throw out on the rare occasion they required any input from me, and I nodded my way through questions about wedding dates and dress designers.
When a flute of champagne appeared in my hand, I took a small, tentative sip, almost sneezing at the amount of bubbles that came with it, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant, so I kept sipping. Eventually, the glass was empty and someone replaced it with a fresh one before I could protest.
Around me, the conversation shifted between topics with dizzying speed. The wives discussed potential venues and the guest list as if they were sure they would be on it, speculating about whether the ceremony might attract press attention and whether Jesse had started planning the honeymoon yet.
Every so often, someone would glance at my ring again and sigh dreamily. Meanwhile, I kept smiling, nodding, and reminding myself to breathe.
I also kept catching myself looking over at Jesse. He seemed far more comfortable than me, apparently having settled into the circle of men with surprising ease. Once in a while, he glanced at me, either sending me a small smile or a wink whenever our eyes met, but I only got to have him to myself for a few minutes over dinner.
“You having a good time?” he asked, those eyes twinkling even more now. Although that might’ve been the scotch.
I shrugged, picking at my food while raucous laughter broke out around the table. “It’s fine. It’s a lovely party.”
Bloody hell. A different word, Eliza. Whatever happened to eloquence?
