Page 175 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
“Phoebe was just telling me about the time she popped hers with my brother,” Ev smiles up at my mum.
“Phoebe!” My mother spins around, appalled. “Don’t talk about sex with Evangeline! That’s very uncouth, darling. You keep that to yourself and Arthur—or Digby, whoever it is that you're popping cherries with.”
When my mum turns her back, I give Evangeline two fingers.
∗ ∗ ∗
When I walk into George and Albie’s place, I’m instantly overwhelmed. You always are at their parties because they just go over the top every single time. Arthur’s parties were insane,we know that but the Stratton’s? You step through that threshold and you’re transported to a whole new world.
Security and paparazzi will hang outside for at least three days after tonight. There’s a strict no phone policy, everyone’s cameras are blacked out with masking tape and if you are caught taking pictures then you’re blacklisted from every Stratton hotel, members club and party and no one’s stupid enough to get themselves in that position.
Red lights cover everyone’s imperfections, animal masks and bow ties are worn by the men who want to cheat on their wives and girlfriends tonight, the girls strut around in next to nothing because if there’s one night it’s socially acceptable to wear your Agent Provocateur corset and thong, it’s tonight. Even the outside of their house, rivalled Annabel’s this year—which is obviously saying something.
Jesters walk around on stilts, acrobats swing from the chandeliers swallowing fire, clowns serve you drinks and truly, it’s terrifying. There’s never a theme. They just make it as scary as possible.
After saying hello to a few old faces, I push my way through the crowds and find Arthur, Athena and Connie talking in the foyer.
“Fuck,” Athena laughs, looks shocked. “I didn’t know you had it in you to dress so slutty.”
“That fucking thing,” Connie pushes Athena’s huge feather headpiece, “Is a serious safety hazard.”
“It’s couture,” she rolls her eyes. “Something your straight-off-the-rack Tom Ford wouldn’t know about.”
I’m pretty certain the entire Showgirl get up she’s wearing has been custom made. Pink bra with a diamond bodice, a tulle skirt that’s cut at the front and floats behind her, knee high socks and stilettos.
Connie and Arthur look boring. Tuxedos and masks. Connie a fox and Arthur a rabbit.
Arthur turns to me, gives me a little head nod and shifts over to the side, away from them. “You look fucking amazing,” he tells me.
“I know,” I nod.
He pushes his mask onto his head, a little smile playing on his lips. “Where’s Digby?”
I shrug. “Here, probably. Everyone’s here.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “But why isn’t he here with you?”
“Because I still haven’t spoken to him—anyway,” I shake my head. “How are you? With this,” I wave my arm around. “Are you okay?”
He reaches out, touches my hand, our fingers grazing lightly. “I’m alright. Feel like I need a drink after seeing you, though.”
“No, Arthur—”
He throws his head back, half groans, half laughs. “You ruin me, you know that? Like, proper, ruin me.”
I grab his face, kiss him. I don’t care. There aren’t any phones that could steal this moment from us. I love him and I love kissing him and I want to kiss him until I take my last breath—in fact, I think I want my last breath to go to him. He deserves it.
You might think he doesn’t but if this year has taught me anything it’s that there might be a future for us. Maybe. A tricky one. A messy one. But a future nonetheless and isn’t that all I’ve wanted since I was a little girl? I fell in love with the prince so isn’t this the point I get my happily ever after?
“I love you,” he mutters against my lips when I pull back.
“I love you more.”
He smiles, a grin that I want to steal from him and put in my pocket. But someone taps me on the shoulder and I spin around to see Zara dressed as a clown.
“Holy shit,” she looks me up and down. “Fuck Arthur, I want you in my bed.”
I bop her nose. “You are off your face.”
