Page 48 of Boyfriend Material
“Anyway”—that was Alex again, and for possibly the first time in my entire life I was relieved he was speaking—“Luc and Oliver are boyfriends. Only not really. They just have to pretend until the Beetle Drive. It’s the most tremendous wheeze.” He blushed modestly. “My idea actually.”
“Oh, Ally. Youarea smarty-pants.”
“Only don’t tell anybody because it’s a gigantic secret.”
She tapped the side of her head. “Video et taceo.”
“And this,” Alex went on, “is my… I say, Miffy, are we engaged?”
“I don’t recall. I feel like we probably should be. Let’s say we are for now and work out the details later.”
“In which case, this is my fiancée Clara Fortescue-Lettice.”
I knew I was going to regret this. But I said it anyway. “I thought she was called Miffy?”
“Yes.” Alex gave me a what-is-wrong-with-you look. “Miffy, short for Clara.”
“But it’s the same number of sylla… Never mind.”
Alex drew Miffy-Short-for-Clara’s arm through his with easy confidence. “Shall we tootle into the dining room?”
“Yes, let’s,” she agreed. “I could eat an entire dressage team.”
Oliver and I eyed each other nervously, uncertain if we had a linking-arms type of relationship, before falling into step beside each other like estranged relatives at a funeral. Yep. I’d been demoted from “Don’t kiss me” to “I cannot bear the thought of physical contact with you.”
“So,” remarked Miffy as we made our way down another absurdly opulent corridor, “what have you boys been nattering about?”
Alex glanced briefly towards us. “Actually it’s been fascinating. Oliver was just telling us about the merits and drawbacks of jury trials.”
“Thatdoessound fascinating. My father’s against them, of course. Terrible for dairy farmers.”
Oliver moved his hand swiftly to his mouth as if to stifle a cough. But I was 99 percent certain he was smiling. Unfortunately he wouldn’t look at me, so I couldn’t even share that.
Chapter 17
It turned out there were two dining halls—the Eden Room and the Gascoyne-Cecil Room—but Alex found the Eden Room, in his words, “chummier.” Although what precisely was chummy about mustard-yellow walls, wainscoting, and massive portraits of severe-looking men dressed entirely in black, I couldn’t say. The menu offered roast chicken, roast beef, roast pork, beef Wellington, roast pheasant, game pie, and roast venison.
“Ah,” exclaimed Alex, “lovely. Just like school dinners.”
I gave him a look. Maybe if I focused on how annoying I found Alex, I’d find myself more bearable. “Often had pheasant at school, did you, Alex?”
“Not often. You know, once or twice a week maybe.”
I glanced at Oliver, who was scrutinising the menu as if he hoped he’d somehow missed the non-dead-animal option. Was this a fake boyfriend job? It was probably a fake boyfriend job. And if I did it right, he might start paying attention to me. Fuck, I was pathetic.
“I should have mentioned,” I said gallantly, “Oliver’s a vegetarian.”
“I’m so sorry.” Miffy gazed at him with genuine concern. “What happened? Is there anything anyone can do?”
Oliver gave a wry smile. “I’m afraid not. But please don’t worry, I’ll manage.”
“No no,” Alex protested. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s ask James.” He made a gesture and a completely different butling person who still, apparently, answered to the name James appeared at his elbow. “I say, James. Queer business. Seems I’ve accidentally brought a vegetarian.”
James did one of those mini-bows straight offDownton Abbey. “I’m sure the chef can accommodate the lady, sir.”
“I’m not a vegetarian.” Miffy’s eyes widened in outrage. “My father’s an earl.”
“I do apologise, madam.”
