Oh! Oh, good evening, Emily, this is Victoria. Lady Meade. Thank you so much for all your hard work recently. I can’ttell you how much it’s appreciated. Not just by me, either. Anyway, I’m calling because Lord and Lady Derrington have invited us to some Christmas drinks on Saturday. They’re having a gathering and I wondered whether you would be available to join us. You probably have a wedding, but if you don’t, we’d really like you to be there. Our last social event before the wedding! I’ve cleared the diary in the run-up, of course, but we should make an appearance at this one. I’ve checked with Nicholas and he said he’d be delighted for you to come. He enjoyed meeting you at Dashwell. I appreciate you’ve already gone above and beyond, but if you were able to join us, well, I’d be grateful. Extremely grateful. Cordelia… finds these events hard. I’m sure she’d like to thank you in person for everything you’ve done for the wedding. Do call me back when you get the chance. Thank you, Emily.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I don’t buy a new dress for the Christmas party. I pick one from my wardrobe, an emerald-green, long-sleeved wrap dress that I wore to engagement drinks last year. I also don’t spend hours doing my makeup or having a blow-dry. I put on some foundation, mascara, bronzer, and a nude lipstick, brush my hair and leave it exactly as it falls.
In my newsassyopinion, it’s enough that I’m making the effort to be there with such a last-minute invitation. I won’t go over and above to impress these people. I don’t need to prove anything. I deliberated for a while over accepting Lady Meade’s invitation but in the end I wasn’t going to let my personal feelings for Cordelia get in the way of doing my job to the best of my ability. If I was required to come to these drinks as support for the bride I’m working with, then that’s what I’d do in a purely professional capacity. So, I called Lady Meade back, saying I’d be there and asking her to let me know details.
“Welcome, Miss Taylor,” the doorman says, checking my name against a list, while a waiter promptly steps forward with a tray of drinks and another offers to take my coat. “Enjoy the party.”
The Earl and Countess of Derrington are near to the door, lurking there to welcome the guests, and they greet me warmly, telling me Annabel and Georgia are around somewhere and wouldloveto see me so Imustfind them, then making conversation withmuch more important guests also milling about in their lavishly decorated hallway.
There’s a gigantic Christmas tree by the stairs and, unable to spot anyone I know straightaway, I head over to admire it, peering at my reflection in the huge, shiny gold baubles. I linger by the tree and scan the sea of faces, hoping to see someone from the Swann family, but if they’re here, they’re lurking in another room. From the noise and number of guests, the party seems to be spread through the whole house.
I’m working out whether to veer to the right or left when the front door opens and Tom walks in. I beam at him and I’m about to attempt a cool-but-sexy wave to get his attention when I see that he hasn’t arrived alone. A tall, slender woman has her arm linked through his and they only detach to take their coats off. She has high cheekbones, shimmering skin, and the fullest lips you can possibly imagine. She’s so striking, I can’t stop staring at her until I realize I’m gawping in a very undignified manner and quickly pretend to be interested in the baubles again, glancing at her and Tom as stealthily as possible.
Once she’s passed her coat to the waiter—who looks as dopily mesmerized by her as I am—revealing a slinky, shimmering blue dress, she flutters her eyelashes at Tom, waiting for him to introduce her to the Earl and Countess of Derrington.
Well, isn’t this mortifying? I’msuchan idiot. These are the sort of women Tom dates. Beautiful, sophisticated models, who fit right in at a party like this one.
I grimace, thinking of how I’d felt spending that day with him in Paxton. Clearly he’d thought of it as hanging out with his little sister’s friend, while I was wistfully imagining what it would be like to kiss him.Ugh.I’m annoyed with myself for being so unprofessional, simply because a good-looking guy with gentle eyes spends a couple of days paying me attention. What asap.I have not been sassyat allin this area of the job.
Suddenly Tom glances in my direction.
Without thinking, I drop to the floor. I realize very quickly that this is a mistake. Just like it was at Dashwell Hall when he saw me at my bedroom window. I have got to stop falling to the floor to get out of awkward situations.Anyother reaction would be preferable to this one: a casual wave, pretending I hadn’t seen him, swiftly joining a nearby conversation, turning to survey the decorations.
Seriously,any other reactionwould have been better than this.
“Are you all right?” someone asks me, noticing me on the floor by her diamanté heels.
“Yes, thank you,” I reply, grasping for explanations before coming up with “I wanted to see the tree stand. What brand it was. I’ve been looking for a reliable one.”
“Oh,” she says, surprised. “I thought you may have dropped an earring.”
“Yes,” I say, slowly standing up as she turns her back on me to rejoin the conversation she’d been a part of. “That would have been a much more believable reason.”
I keep my back to the door and use the reflection in the baubles to try to work out if Tom and his date are still standing by the door. Unfortunately, all the guests seem to be blurred blobs and I can’t work out who is who. Ignoring the strange looks of the woman who’d spoken to me and the rest of her group, I stop peering closely at the baubles and slowly turn to glance at the door. I breathe a sigh of relief that they’ve gone, ushered into another room.
Spotting the back of Tom’s head going through the door to my right, I duck through the crowd and scurry into the sitting room to my left, only to walk straight into Cordelia and Jonathan, who are standing by the door.
“Emily!” Jonathan cries, greeting me with a kiss on each cheek. “We were wondering if you were here yet.”
Cordelia reluctantly follows suit, giving me two air kisses and an attempt at an enthusiastic hello.
“I’m glad I found you,” I say, not sure if I’m telling the truth or not. “I don’t really know anyone here.”
“That’s a good thing,” Cordelia mutters, while Jonathan rolls his eyes at her. “Annabel and Georgia are here somewhere. Annabel’s already told me three times that her wedding is better than mine.”
“That’s not quite what she said, darling,” Jonathan corrects. “Although she does have a way of putting things. She was going on about Nicole Percy.”
“Whatever,” Cordelia says, twisting a lock of hair. “Beth is much better. And we’re going for the personal touch. Anyone could hire Nicole, but Beth is a more exclusive florist.”
“You booked Beth?”
Cordelia nods. “Thanks for the idea. I think she’ll do a really good job.”
“Was Beth your idea, Emily?” Jonathan asks, surprised.
“Not really. Cordelia’s being nice. I met her that weekend at Dashwell and thought she was cool. I don’t know much about florists, though,” I say breezily.
