Chapter 20
I’ve never been someone to agonize over what to wear. My wardrobe is full of decent basics and all the tops essentially go
with any of the bottoms. But preparing for a full day with Beatrice, who’s sure to look stunningly put together, has me on
edge.
“Maybe you could just talk to your father. You know, tell him he needs to start doing something about his attitude,” my mom
whispers into the phone—and not for the first time.
I’ve got my AirPods in so I can talk to her and lay out different outfit possibilities at the same time. It doesn’t help that
my laundry is piling up and I’m running low on everything.
“Mom, I’m not going to give Dad a lecture on his attitude,” I say. There’s no bite to my refusal. I try to change the topic.
“Would you like to know how things are going here?”
My mom ignores the question and keeps talking. “It’s just, I asked him if he wanted to go for a walk and he looked at me like my head was on backwards. I’m trying to spend time with him. I make all this effort and he—”
“So I’m living in a castle now,” I say, to shut her up.
“Oh, you are not,” Mom says and clucks her tongue. I text her a selfie I took while standing in the parterre, Inveresk Castle
behind me. She’s still not buying it. “Looks like a great place to visit before you go back to that apartment Margaret MacIntyre
got you in town.”
“Margaret MacIntyre moved to Japan to be with her boyfriend. I work in a gift shop now.” Is it partially my fault for not
offering my parents this information sooner or is it wholly their fault for being too self-absorbed to ask me about my day
when they call? Who knows. All I know is it feels good to punish her a little by dropping these like bombs on her monologue
complaining about my dad.
“Well—well—” my mom stammers before gathering her wits and the only explanation that allows her to see herself as the perfect
mom. “You always have been one to land on your feet. Speaking of which, Dean came by to drop off some of your belongings.
A sweater and a Jane Austen book, I think. I didn’t really peek in the bag. I swear I saw Gigi in his truck, but she didn’t
come in and didn’t wave back at me. Are she and Dean friends still? That’s a little strange, isn’t it?”
My mom obviously knows that Dean and I broke up. What she doesn’t know is why.
“They could be hooking up for all I care,” I say, ignoring the pinch in my heart I still can’t shake when I think about Gigi.
“I gotta go. I’m heading to the Highland games with the prince of England.”
“Sure you are,” Mom says. “Hey, next time you talk to your dad, maybe you can sugge—”
“Bye, Mom.” I hang up the phone before she gets worked up about my dad’s so-called attitude again. I stare at my clothing
options, mutter “This is stupid” to myself, and grab one of my summer dresses at random.
I’m in the back of a sleek black car, seated beside Finn’s sister Penelope, facing him and Beatrice. Finn and I both seem
to be trying not to look at each other for too long, an unspoken agreement that we’re keeping whatever’s happening between
us under wraps. But, god, does he look handsome. He’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves with two
buttons undone at his neck. The pièce de résistance is the kilt. An actual kilt. I’m refusing to look at it for fear I’ll get too turned on by the memory of the hunting lodge—not to mention the even hotter
hookup in my cottage last night. With a kilt, we’re talking easy access right now. Heat rises up my neck.
“I love your trainers,” Penelope tells me. Although Finn calls her “Poppy,” Beatrice doesn’t, so I’m erring on the side of formality. She’s about a year younger than I am, but the way she seems to take note of everyone and everything around her makes me think she’s an old-soul kind of girl.
“Thanks,” I say, lifting my toes up to try and see what she likes about my pale pink Chucks. “Your shoe collection would put
mine to shame, though, I bet.”
“I’d give them all up to be able to wear trainers with a dress,” Penelope says with a sigh. “But my mother thinks it’s ‘common.’ ”
I catch Finn’s eye and he’s holding back a smile. I look away before I do something untoward, like leap across the back of
this car to throw my arms around him.
“How are you enjoying working in the gift shop, Hannah?” Beatrice asks, smoothing the pleats on her own kilt.
I very much want to hate her, but, apart from mistaking me for a stable hand, she’s been nice enough to me. And the way she’s
asking about work doesn’t make me feel less than—she sounds genuinely curious. I chalk it up to the impeccable manners that
come with a bougie upbringing. Although, it occurs to me that if Finn’s been friends with her his whole life and fell in love
with her, she must be a good person.
“The gift shop’s good,” I tell her. “My coworker is a lot of fun.”
“Caro?” she asks eagerly. “I love her. She has the coolest hair. One time, I overheard her tell one of the maids that she thinks I have real style. It sounded like she meant it.”
“Of course she meant it. You clearly do have style.” She’s paired her kilt with an apricot-colored short-sleeved mock turtleneck
and brown boots I’m coveting, despite not normally caring about shoes. “Hey, is it okay that I don’t have anything tartan
on? I don’t want to anger the locals. Some of them are going to be chucking trees today.”
“I have something you can use.” Penelope reaches into her purse and pulls out a beautiful tartan silk scarf. Because the sundress
I’m wearing is white, the greens and blues will really pop. “May I?”
I nod and Penelope wraps the scarf around me in a semi-complicated way. When she shows me how it looks in her pocket mirror,
I grin. “Thank you. Now I’m slightly less likely to embarrass you all.”
The event technically starts with a parade in the town’s center, but Finn and Penelope are prohibited by their security from
going. Instead, the car takes the four of us straight to the field where the bulk of the games will be taking place.
Beatrice and I get out of the car first (she more gracefully than I) and we immediately move aside to give photographers ample view of the prince and princess.
It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for a crowd to form.
Security keeps them at a safe distance, and everyone seems respectful, but a number of people are already taking photos of Finn and his sister.
A few even aim their phones at me and Beatrice.
God, this is awkward. I’m sure everyone is wondering what this random girl is doing with them.
As I shift my weight from side to side, trying to feign interest in the nearby tent selling Scotch pies, haggis and gravy,
and bacon baps, I glance at Beatrice, who looks perfectly poised.
Finn jogs over to tell us he has to give a quick speech to start off the games. He sets off, flagged by two security officers.
It’s so easy to forget who Finn is to the world when I get caught up in who he is to me.
Finn steps onto a makeshift stage and I can feel a surge of energy crackle in the crowd. “Good afternoon, East Lothian,” he
says into a microphone. He’s confident and looks every bit the part of a prince at the Highland games. My heart bursts with
pride at his charisma up there. “I am so pleased—as a member of the Highland games board, an enthusiast of the events, and,
let’s be honest, a man who fancies himself stronger than he actually is—to be here with you.”
The audience gives him an appreciative laugh. I see one muscly guy in a kilt and a tank top flex for his significant other.
“As most of you know, the Highland games can be traced back to the time of the clans in the eleventh century. It was part of Scotland’s culture for hundreds of years, but in the nineteenth century, it almost disappeared altogether.
It was the dedication of my ancestor, Queen Victoria, who fell in love with Scotland on her honeymoon with Albert, who brought them back.
She revived them in 1832, and they’ve grown in strength and popularity since then. ”
I applaud along with the rest of the audience, feeling an unexpected kinship with the late Queen Victoria. How can someone
be in this country and not fall in love with it?
“Now, the Highland games are practiced all over the world. But”—Finn leans in, like he’s about to tell a secret—“I think we
can all agree that no one does it like East Lothian.”
He ends his speech by saying something in Scots Gaelic that gets the crowd cheering. I can’t help but get caught up in the
excitement. I whistle and holler along with everyone else. Today is going to be a great day.
“Oh good,” Beatrice says, clapping her hands together. “The gang’s all here.”
“Where?” I ask Beatrice, searching for Callum, Mhairi, and Bethany. She points to a group of boys I’ve never seen in my entire
life. They approach us and greet Beatrice with cheek-kisses and Penelope with hugs. Then Finn jogs over from the stage and
claps them all on the back. I’m left standing outside the circle, feeling incredibly awkward and regretting my commitment
to spending the whole day with them.
“Everyone, everyone,” Finn says as the hellos die down. “I’d like you all to meet American Hannah. She’s working at the castle
this summer.”
I know the words he said are essentially true. And I know he can’t very well say This is Hannah, the girl I orgasmed with last night to his friends, but I feel so random, so overlooked in this moment. So out of place. Beatrice, however, belongs. She’s so
poised, she’s taking charge of the introductions—as though I’m her guest, not Finn’s.
“Hannah,” she says, presenting a tall, lanky guy with blond curls. “This is Hugo. He and Finn were at Eton together.”
“A pleasure to meet you, American Hannah.” Hugo shakes my hand and grins at me. I like him immediately.
“And this,” Beatrice says, moving on to a handsome South Asian guy, “is Albie. Finn’s friend from uni.”
“All right there, Hannah? I hope Scotland’s been treating you well.”