Page 49 of Love and Other Paradoxes

He straightened his kilt, his heart rate returning to normal. “Sorry. I think I blacked out. How did that go?”

“She liked the kilt.” Esi was watching Diana leave, a strange tension in her shoulders. “And if it doesn’t work out with her, you’re in there with Chamberlain.”

He gave her a grim look. “I’m going to dedicate my book of dog poetry to you.”

“Aww. I’m touched.” Fragments of posh chatter echoed down the high-ceilinged hallway. “You should go after her.”

Her words said one thing, her body another. He had never seen her look so uncomfortable. His heart cramped. “Not until we’ve done the tour. When else will you get a chance to see inside Diana Dartnell’s childhood home?”

“My lifelong dream.” She took his arm, her posture relaxing.

The house was huge. They passed through room after room, elegant and strangely impersonal. Most were empty: the party guests had congregated in the kitchen, where the marble-topped island clinked with bottles. Through the French windows loomed the dark outline of a garden.

“No sign of your mum,” he commented, scanning the crowd.

She let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, even if Diana does know her, I don’t think she’d have made the guest list. I just overheard someone saying their dad’s an earl.”

He sorted through the bottles. Half of them were liqueurs he’d never heard of. “Would a drink help?”

She shook her head. “I need to stay alert.”

“Yeah, think I’ll pass too. Remember the last time I talked to Diana when I was drunk?” He got what he wanted: a small, reluctant smile. “Look. Here’s a plan. We’ll talk to some people. We’ll find someone who’s not completely fucking awful, and I’ll leave you with them while I talk to Diana.”

She took a breath, steeling herself. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Half an hour later, the two of them were huddled in a corner next to a table full of desserts. “Let’s just go,” he said around a forkful of admittedly excellent pavlova. “I can catch up with her back in Cambridge.”

“No. We’re staying. This is your big night.” Esi put down her empty plate and picked up another. “But if I’d known this was just going to be a roomful of people bragging about their skiing holidays, I would’ve let you come on your own.” She took a bite. “Mmm. Try this one. It’s like—burnt oranges with honey.”

He leaned in to take her fork in his mouth. Their eyes met, and a thrill like lightning went through him.

“Fuck, that’s amazing,” he said, exaggerating to distract from the pounding of his heart. What was wrong with him? He was acting like a sixteen-year-old. “At least her desserts are good. Even if her friends are terrible.”

“Not all of them.” She pointed at a tall man with floppy hair. “Jonty was all right.”

“You’re just saying that because his dad’s an earl.”

She gave him a peculiar look. “A what?”

“An earl.”

She grinned. “Airrul,” she said happily.

“Sorry. Euuhl,” he corrected himself in his best attempt at her accent.

She grimaced. “You’re making me sound like the King!”

“TheKing? You’re making me time-sick again. Also, the monarchy still exists in 2044?”

“One of many not-great things about when I’m from.” She stared into the crowd, shaking her head. “It’s like they’re all trying to convince each other that they’re the most impressive person in the room. But no one’s listening, because they’re too busy trying to do the same.”

He followed her gaze, worry sprouting in his chest. “Are these the people I’m going to have to hang out with once me and Diana are together?”

She shrugged. “Maybe they’re Crispin’s friends. Some people are like that. They base their whole personality on whoever they’re dating. Once she’s with you, she’ll get better taste.”

He tried to imagine Rob and his other friends in this glimmering palace, the chat about Klosters and the stock market replaced by stupid in-jokes andLord of the Ringsreferences. He couldn’t make it fit.

He had meant to try again, let Esi take her chances with Jonty and go off in search of his destiny. But somehow it was easier to stay in the corner with her, laughing at the party and at each other while everyone around them got drunker and drunker. At one point, a man in a tailcoat stumbled directly into him, pulling back with exaggerated slowness until he registered the kilt. “Och aye the fuckingnoo!!” he yelled, before blundering away into the crowd.

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