I’m certain my face is flaming red at this point. “Nobody.”
“Oh, no, girl. A nobody would not have you so bothered right now.” She glances down at my phone again. “The next message says to bring your friend too if you like. Does that mean me? You know I don’t like football.”
“Yes, I told him that.” I finish the last of my drink and stand, not waiting for the waiter to return. “I need another.”
“You’re stalling,” Margaret calls to my back.
“Yep.”
I stand at the bar, taking my time choosing a beerwhile I try to find a way to get Margaret to drop it and also let the prince down easy. I may have considered the invitation initially, but after yesterday’s announcement, I’m not about to get in the middle of all that mess. Holding a winter stout, I return to the table as Margaret is putting my phone back in front of my chair. A text notification chimes again. I swipe my phone open, prepared with a thanks, but no thanks, response. My eyes pop, and it feels like all the blood has drained from my body.
“What did you do?” I glare at my friend.
“What you were too scared to,” she replies with a shrug.
“I’d love to!! Sadly, my friend can’t make it, though,” I read aloud. “That doesn’t even sound like me. I do not use that many exclamation points.”
Margaret waves her hand in dismissal. “Doesn’t matter. What did he say?”
“He said he’ll have a ticket for me at will call.” I chew the corner of my lower lip. “This is a terrible idea.”
Margaret puts her hand over mine. “Aurelia, you haven’t dated since the second year at uni. This could be good for you.”
Yeah, and that was a disaster I’d rather not repeat.“You don’t even know who he is. He could be a serial killer for all you know.”
“Doubtful. You wouldn’t be so wound up over a guy who gave off murdery vibes. Are you going to tell me who thisFritz is?”
“Just a guy I met at the prime minister’s victory celebration on Friday night,” I say into my glass.
Margaret looks dubious but doesn’t press any further. “Fine,” she sighs. “But I’ll be expecting details later.” She finishes off her cider, and the waiter returns with our food. “How was your week besides meeting the mysterious Fritz?”
I regale my friend with tales of the Maier children while we eat. Darcy, the oldest, is coming along with her letters, and the three-year-old is already developing exceptional fine motor skills while practicing writing them. Liam is just over a year old and really finding his voice.
“Lady Maier has been talking about having more children recently. These two are quite the handful as it is. I don’t even know what I would do with three.”
Margaret cringes. “Three children under the age of four. No wonder the woman needs a nanny.”
“Keeps me in business, at least. Margaret, working with these kids is everything I hoped for when I started at Merryton.” The dream to become a nanny is a relatively new one, but my time at one of the most prestigious nanny colleges in Europe and these last several months working with the Maier children have only served to solidify my goal.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Even if I don’t fully understand it, I love seeing you so happy. You’ve worked so hard for this. Do you think they’ll keep you on after your intern year?”
“I hope so. I’ve fallen in love with this family already.”
She reaches for my hand. “Then I’m so thrilled for you.”
I didn’t sleep well last night, and when my alarm goes off at five in the morning, I’m glad for the excuse to give up trying.
My day at the Maier’s starts at seven, but my early alarm allows me an hour run each morning. I slip a crocheted headband over my ears to protect them from the cold, but opt for shorts and a t-shirt, punishment for my body and mind disrupting my sleep. My tennies will need replacing soon, but I like to push them to their limit, too.
When I first arrived in Emarvia, my daily runs helped me learn my new setting. I found my way around the city by making wrong turns and finding alternate routes. Hidden gems, like my favorite coffee shop in the Little Italy district or the organic grocery store tucked away in the warehouse district, revealed themselves as I let myself get lost with each new temporary home: Aunt Sarah’s house, university dorms, and now Granbury House that serves as the dormitory at Merryton. I take my usual route today, too distracted to try anything new.
I talked to Aunt Sarah last night when I went over for our typical Sunday dinner. Even though we livednear my mother’s family when she moved us back to Louisiana, we rarely visited her mother or sisters. As an adult, I had grown to love my dinners with my father’s aunt. She reminds me of the eccentric rich aunt from an Austen novel. No children, never married, and more money than she knows what to do with.
“Men are good for two things, Aurelia,” she announced when I told her about the football match and my…date? “Sex and trouble.”
I blushed. Hearing the elderly woman, a countess at that, speak so crassly was a bit shocking to my southern proclivities. I didn’t dare tell her who I’m meeting. If the Countess Lady Graf knew I was going to a soccer match with His Royal Highness, she would be calling her solicitor to disown her heir—my father’s older brother—and bring me into nobility status, tossing me into the ring for the princess trials, for certain. Not that that’s a wholly new idea. Uncle Jonas has been no contact for years, and Aunt Sarah is constantly bemoaning the laws that keep him in place to inherit her title when the man has shown no interest in any of her many charities and advocacy groups.
“You deserve a good time, my dear, no doubt there,” she said over dessert. “But my advice is to get a decent fuck or two out of him, then keep on with your life.”
