Page 49 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I laugh, sip my champagne.
“No seriously, Phoebe—I might as well camp out in Epping Forest.”
She walks off after that, straight over to George who looks like he’s about two point five seconds away from shooting the place up.
And now that I’m left alone, I’m thinking of the kiss Arthur gave me the other night at Connie’s. Unexpected, sure. Unwelcome? Not at all.
Even if it was papped and Digby saw it on the front page of every rag, I wouldn’t have cared—wouldn’t have regretted it.
You’re probably thinking I’m pissed right? Him and Princess Astrid? But I’m not, actually. Not at all. If anything, I’m quite very happy for him. Him being with someone is less temptation for me. I’d never ruin any of his future relationships. Any girl he could be with after me, deserves him way more than what I ever could now. That and, every girl, at leastonce, deserves to be loved the way Arthur loves. You might not think it, given our history, but I’ve seen it—the way he loves, he spreads it out across the road, uncaring about cars and pedestrians.
With a weak, battered smile, he handed me his scarred, bruised, dirty heart and timidly asked me if I’d take it. And I did. That’s more than what most people would do. They’d see it getting run over a hundred times and just walk away.
Not Arthur, though.
Anyways, over in the far corner, I see a group of suits rather intrigued by a certain canvas. No one else is interested in anything else here. As most of these things go, it turns into a free for all. Free drink, food—everyone leaves half-cut before the sun has even set. It can’t be one of Connie’s paintings. I mean, surely not?
Albie’s stood to the right of me, fixing his hair in the mirror mounted on the wall.
I pull him over to me, glass to my mouth. “Whose painting are they looking at over there? It’s not Connie’s, is it?”
His lips twitch into his own version of a grin. “Nah. That’s one of Primrose's paintings.”
“Primrose?”
He blinks twice. “Yeah—Primrose Moore.”
“Primrose Moore?!”
“Yeah.”
“As in, Primrose-Primrose?”
He nods.
“Not Darcy Primrose, though, right?”
“Yep.”
“Connie’s Primrose?”
“Yes, Phoebe, that one.”
He looks agitated.
“Oh my goodness!” I frown. “Does she know?”
Albie shrugs. “Don’t know.”
“Gah, I didn’t know she was back on the scene.”
“Was she ever on the scene?”
“She was with Connie for a bit, so, yeah?”
He wobbles his head. “I wouldn’t call what they had ‘dating’.”
I roll my eyes. “As if you know anything about romantic relationships. All you do is shag your twin's girlfriend.”
