“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“While I remember, can I give you this?” He pulls an envelope out from the inside pocket of his jacket and hands it to me. “It’s for Cordelia. If you wouldn’t mind giving it to her tomorrow morning. It’s her gift.”
I gasp excitedly. “You managed to get what we discussed?”
“I did. I hope she’ll be pleased.”
“Are you kidding? She’s going toloveit.”
“Thanks, Sophie. Really. For everything.”
Pretending to notice the time from the clock on the mantelpiece, but secretly wanting them to leave because I can’t bear another second of standing in front of theMarchioness of Meadedressed incarrot pajamas,I feign surprise.
“Is that the time? Goodness, you should really be with your guests,” I say, gliding toward the door. “They’ll be missing you. But thank you for coming up here. It means a lot.”
“Have you had any supper?” Lady Meade asks, following Jonathan out of the room and stopping in the doorway to look at me with a concerned expression. “You need to make sure you have something to eat.”
“I’m honestly fine, I don’t need—”
“You know where the kitchen is—the smaller one in the private wing? Not the main one, the caterers are using it—there’s plenty of food in the fridge. You can sneak down and help yourself. You don’t need to worry about bumping into anyone there.”
She gives me a mischievous smile and I know she’s referring to the pajamas.
That’s it. I now officiallyhatecarrots.
“See you tomorrow, Sophie!” Jonathan calls, as he dances away down the corridor. “On my wedding day!”
I laugh and wait for them to disappear down the stairs before closing the door and getting back to my steaming. My stomach gives a loud rumble as I finish. Lady Meade was right: I probably should eat something. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.
Must have been all that vigorous “Flashdance” exercise earlier.
Lady Meade said I wouldn’t bump into anyone, but I’m not taking any chances. Pulling the fluffy white dressing gown provided over the carrot pajamas, I leave the bedroom and make my way to the kitchen, trying to remember which turning leads where. I’d forgotten how much of a maze this place is. I finally get to a corridor I know and, relieved that I recognize the door to the kitchen, I hurry down it, ready to grab something and get back to the sanctuary of my room.
As I reach the door, which is ajar, I hear voices. I jump back against the wall, hidden from view, confused as to what the caterers are doing in this kitchen, too.
“That is sogross,Tom! Don’t drink from the carton, you pig.”
“Chill out, Bridezilla. I’m going to finish it. I’m not putting it back in the fridge.”
I freeze at hearing Tom’s voice. What are theydoinghere? They should be in the dining room with their guests! Why does Tom have to track down cheap sugary drinks during adinner? Oh, God, I shouldn’t have left my bedroom. I need to get back thereimmediatelywithout him seeing me. If I tiptoe back down the corridor, I might be all right. As long as he doesn’t stand anywhere near the door, he won’t see me from inside the kitchen.
I’m about to take the first step when he speaks again. “So, she came back with you, then?”
My breath catches.
“Yeah, she did,” Cordelia says. “Can you pass me a Twix? On the top shelf of the fridge, at the back.”
“The sticky toffee pudding not to your liking, Your Highness?”
“Jonathan ate mine while I was busy saying hi to everyone,” she replies grumpily. “At least I’m not sneaking away to drink juice from the carton like a child.”
“At least I’m not sneaking away to hide from my guests.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Oh, my God,siblings are the worst.They’re in their thirties!
