Chapter 9 #2
In fact, everyone looked at me when I arrived, Chelsea’s expression shifting to one like she’d sucked hard at a lemon, and oh yeah.
My dress was better than hers.
But it was Battle whose gaze raked the length of me, his face got lazy in a way that made the gusset of my panties need to get busy, so of course, I shot him a dirty look.
He smiled.
My gusset got busier.
Okay.
Shit.
Maybe the Duke of Burleigh was into me.
“Miss Vivienne, drink?” Fitzgibbons called.
I came prepared.
“White Russian.”
That would get him.
No one kept cream in their drinks cabinet.
“Coming right up,” Fitzgibbons said with a twinkle in his eye, turning to his task.
“That’s rather sweet for a predinner drink, isn’t it?” Chelsea asked.
“Vivienne enjoys challenging Fitzy’s bartending skills,” Battle answered for me, doing so sharing the heretofore unknown knowledge that he was on to me. “What she doesn’t know is that Fitzy was a bartender in a club in London for five years.”
And there it was.
No bartender worth his salt was ever without a needed ingredient.
“That’s where I met my Patsy,” Fitzgibbons shared. “She was a waitress. Prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Then and now.”
“I love that story,” Prue declared on a contented sigh.
I sat in a chair not in Chelsea’s grouping and leaned over the arm to give Bartholomew some love.
He rolled to his side and exposed his belly.
I could take direction, so I did.
I only stopped when my drink was in front of my face.
I looked at it, and up, to see Battle was handing it to me.
I took it with a mumbled, “Thank you,” as he bent close, closer, closest, so his mouth was at my ear.
Obviously, this meant I turned my head, and he was so close, the skin of my cheek grazed the skin of his, I got a nose full of his attractive cologne, and we were almost lips to lips.
I ignored what all of that did to my gusset (and it was getting busy down there), stared in his brown and gold-star eyes and warned, “Don’t.”
“Don’t tell you you look lovely?”
“Yeah. That.”
“All right, I won’t tell you you look lovely.”
I rolled my eyes.
He dipped back to my ear and whispered, “Good enough to eat.”
I jerked my head back and stared murder at him.
Okay, so yes.
Maybe he was into me.
But we were in company!
His gorgeous lips curled up before he straightened away, walked in front of me and angled into the chair beside mine.
My attention went to Prue, scared she’d be upset by this, but I found her smiling dreamily into her old fashioned.
With Prue, that could mean she was in her own little dreamworld, or it could mean she didn’t have an issue with Battle openly flirting with me.
Unfortunately, I was probably going to have to have a conversation with her to ascertain where she was with that.
More unfortunately, it was seeming likely I was going to have to have a chat with Battle before I did that.
Even though I wasn’t thrilled with the shit Battle was pulling, I couldn’t say I didn’t love and adore the infuriated expression it put on Chelsea’s face.
One could say this weekend she’d finagled was not going her way at all.
“So,” I said into the utter silence that was another result of Battle’s shenanigans, since everyone (but Chelsea) was doing a version of Prue smiling into her drink. I aimed my next at Courtney and Rally. “It’s my understanding you two are getting married?”
“Yes, next month. May is perfect in England,” Courtney replied.
I then wielded the conversational gambit everyone used with someone like Courtney in order to manipulate the conversation for a long period of time.
“Is everything set? Where are you going to have it?”
As expected, an excited Courtney launched into a detailed litany of her wedding, the venue, her flowers, the breakfast, the song they’d dance their first dance to, the song she’d dance to with her father, and quite a bit about the villa they were letting in Cannes for their honeymoon.
Okay, so she didn’t do this on her own. I egged her on.
But this safe topic took us through drinks and into dinner, where I discovered the full table was set, with a tablecloth this time, more bouquets, candelabra, and little gold swans with calligraphed place cards set in their wings above each setting.
And again, I was impressed by the staff. Being able to pull this off with very little notice was astonishing.
My place was to Battle’s right, as had become per usual.
Courtney was to his left.
Tempie had the foot of the table with Rally to her right, Chelsea to her left.
Chastity was between Courtney and Rally.
Prue was between Chelsea and me.
Courtney had just finished talking about some day trips she and Rally might go on in the south of France when she asked, “Chastity, did you design these bouquets?”
Chassie nodded.
I was shocked.
“You did?” I queried.
“Chassie does all the flowers for the house,” Tempie stated.
“My God, they’re amazing,” I replied. “But I should have known. The gardens are stunning. You totally have the touch.”
“Thanks, Vivi,” Chassie whisper-replied.
“It’s too bad you don’t do wedding flowers anymore,” Courtney said to her fish course.
And this caused Tempie to shoot a look to Battle, whose attention raced to Chastity.
Uh-oh.
“I would absolutely have used you,” Courtney finished.
Chassie’s face was flaming red.
It was Prue, surprisingly, who forged into the breach.
“Yes, well, the shop was coming to be a bit much,” she said. Then immediately, “We should probably discuss tomorrow, since Battie and Vivi both have to work, and I’m going to need Tempie and Chassie in the attics for this project we’re doing.”
Tempie’s brows rose.
But I thought, you go, girl! since she just put the unexpected guests in a place where they’d have to find a way to entertain themselves.
“Court and I already discussed that,” Rally put in. “Considering you weren’t planning on having us. We’ve decided we’re taking Chelsea to the sea.”
“You are?” Chelsea asked.
“Yes. Torquay,” Courtney said.
“Torquay?” Chelsea inquired like one would say, “A sanitation plant?”
“Yes. A touch of shopping. A cream tea. The sea air,” Rally stated, then to Battle. “We’ll be back by cocktails.”
“Sounds perfect,” Battle purred.
Chelsea glowered at her fish.
I exchanged a beam with Prue.
“Okay, I can’t stand it anymore,” Courtney announced, everyone looked to her, and I was sure I wasn’t the only one who braced.
But I braced more when I saw she was gazing at me.
“I’ve read all your books,” she gushed.
I relaxed.
“I’m a big fan,” she said.
“Well, gosh. Thanks,” I muttered.
“My favorite is What Could Have Been,” she declared. “Your reimagining of Elizabeth’s relationship with Christopher Hatton was so romantic.”
“It’s my understanding there were rumors they were at it,” Rally put in.
“Oh yes,” Courtney practically panted. “I’d never heard of him before your book,” she told me.
“So I looked into him, and it’s clear he was a particular favorite of hers, he built that big house, but wouldn’t sleep there until she did, which she never did, sadly, and he never married.
Do you think maybe your conjecturing is true? ” she asked hopefully.
“Sorry, it’s doubtful,” I replied on a small smile to take the sting out of dashing her hopes.
“Most historians agree, although he was a favorite, earned nicknames from her and quite a bit of land, status and wealth, and he wrote copious love letters to her, so did many men at her court. Although there were rumors, no one really believes they were lovers or even in love. That said, it’s pretty clear she had his utter loyalty and devotion, and in her way, she returned that. ”
“Fools,” Tempie said, “thinking, because she’s a woman, she’d be swayed by empty avowals of love.”
“I don’t know,” Battle replied. “I’m relatively certain her father reacted rather positively to people stroking his ego and shoving their heads right up his arse.”
Everyone laughed, including me.
“I can’t think of anything more boring than talking about dead people,” Chelsea announced.
The laughter died.
She put a flake of fish between her lips, swallowed and finished, “Or reading about them.”
“You don’t find Cleopatra fascinating?” Tempie asked.
“Another fool for love, I would say,” Chelsea answered.
“Marie Curie? Anne Frank? Amelia Earhart? Maya Angelou? Mary Wollstonecraft? Jane Austen?” Tempie pressed.
Chelsea turned to her. “I’m just saying I prefer to be in the here and now.”
“Oh, my apologies,” Tempe replied. “I thought you were insulting Vivi’s choice of a career and path to writing bestselling novels. My mistake.”
Chelsea turned to me. “Obviously, to each their own, Vivienne.”
“Obviously,” I replied as Harry and Scotty came in to remove the fish course.
“One thing I learned about you during our brief fling, Chels,” Battle started.
Oh boy.
I braced again.
Mostly because the “brief fling” comment made Chelsea look both pissed as shit and wounded as hell.
Battle kept going.
“You put grave effort in not wasting your time on anything of value.”
I pressed my lips together.
Chastity whisper-tittered.
“I wasted my time on a relationship with you,” Chelsea pointed out.
Battle caught her in the crosshairs of his gaze.
“Exactly my point.”
Ouch!
And…
Score!
He then turned to me.
Uh-oh.
“I hope old Bess fucked her way through her entire court. I do believe from your book that you don’t believe she died a virgin.”
“Uh…no. But I think she gave up the goods to Dudley. Though, obviously, no one is sure.”