Page 64 of Pride and Privilege

He eyed his almost empty wine glass. Last night had taught him a valuable lesson about getting drunk around Poppy. Lowering his inhibitions was not a wise move. Not when he was already emotionally incontinent. He cringed at the things he’d told her about his dad. Things he’d never told anyone else. Hadn’t even admitted to himself. A mopey rich boy, whining about his gilded life. What the hell must she think of him?

“Yes, water, please.”

Two seconds later there was a massive crash from the kitchen. He jumped to his feet and found Poppy looking down in dismay at a cutlery draw, its contents strewn all across the floor.

“Oops,” she said.

Roscoe laughed. “I should have warned you. Every drawer and cupboard is so jam-packed they have a tendency to explode.”

They knelt down together on the floor and started scooping the mass of forks and spoons and knives back into the drawer.

“It just fell out,” Poppy said apologetically. “It was a bit jammed, so I gave it a tug, and the whole thing fell out.”

“It’s fine, honestly.”

“What even is all this?” She held up a long thin fork with two slender prongs. Then something that looked like a nutcracker.

“Grapefruit fork. Lobster cracker.”

“I thought you were joking about the lobster crackers.”

“Nope. Actual thing.”

“And this?” She held out a fork with a flat, curved edge.

“Fish fork.”

“Let me guess,” she said, holding up another small fork. “For Caviar?”

“Oyster fork.”

“Ah. Of course.”

There really was a random collection of stuff. Much of it tarnished silver. He spied a solid gold olive fork and hid it in the tray before Poppy could tease him about it.

But then he spotted something he couldn’t help but smile at. “Not seen this in a while.”

It was a knife—a dinner knife—made of silver, the handle base embossed with a shield.

“What is it?” asked Poppy.

“It’s from the old family set. We used to use it at Conyers every Christmas until my mum ordered a new one. Brings back memories.”

She held her hand out, so he passed it to her. “Is that your family crest? That shield picture with the bird and the tower?”

He nodded, readying himself for her teasing. But she just smiled, almost sadly. “You really are from a different world, aren’t you?”

“No. I mean… Not the important stuff. Not any of the stuff that really matters. There’s only one world for all that.”

“And another world where you eat meals with fifteen different sets of cutlery. I bet you know all that, don’t you? Which spoon to use for what?”

“Erm…yes.”

She tutted in amusement, shook her head then went back to dumping the cutlery in the drawer. He paused. Thought about it. Paused again. Then said it anyway.

“How about I teach you?”

She looked up, holding a bundle of cocktail sticks with what he suspected were real emeralds glinting at their tips—tiny emeralds. Basically worthless.

---