Page 77 of The Heir Apparent
Amira sighed and leaned back on her elbows in the long grass. “You’re not the one they’re waiting to meet.”
I hid my flaming cheeks behind my enamel teacup. I could hardly scold her when she was speaking the truth.
“I think I can handle whatever they’ve got, Amira,” Jack said.
She smiled enigmatically behind her sunglasses, her hair tangling across her face in the breeze. There was something dangerous about her in this mood. Most of the time I felt like she was just beyond my reach, the truth of her hidden behind her duchess sheen.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said.
Back at the house, we dressed for drinks, which the staff had communicated via handwritten note would be followed by a sit-down dinner in the dining room. I’d hoped for something more casual, then realised that Granny would be unwilling to balance a TV dinner on her knees in front of strangers.
I ordered a brandy to my room to try to calm my nerves as cocktail hour approached. Why hadn’t I taken Jack and Finn to Croatia for a week instead of this? I put on a halterneck gown in a heavy navy silk that tied at the nape of my neck and then piled my hair on top of my head. I applied, then removed, red lipstick. I put on dangly earrings, then took them off. I took a sip of my brandy and stared at my reflection. The Algarve, I thought. That’s where we should have gone. Clams and nightclubs and beaches packed with burnt British tourists.
My phone buzzed.
You were right, Finn’s text said.We need help with the bow ties.
I made the long march through the hallway, my heart jangling as I approached the guest wing. They were in Finn’s room, standing before the mirror and murmuring in low voices, and they turned when I knocked on the open door.
“I hear you need help in here,” I said, affecting a nonchalant air that was unlikely to convince anyone.
Jack’s eyes met mine. I’d never seen him out of jeans and Blundstones before and I felt a girlish thrill at the sight of him in his suit, the black tie draped loosely around his collar.
“Oh, you look hot, babe,” Finn said, turning back to the mirror. “These things are impossible. Even an eight-minute YouTube tutorial didn’t help.”
I stood before Jack, remembering the lessons Papa used to give Louis while I sat on the bed and watched. “A gentleman must always know how to tie his own tie,” Papa would say, Louis frowning in the mirror beside him.
Jack looked down at me as I reached to take hold of the scrap of silk around his neck. It had the effect of drawing us closer.
“You look…” he whispered, his eyes wandering.
“Thank you. You too.” I cleared my throat, pushing up the collar of his shirt and allowing one finger to brush against his jaw. “Okay so…” My hands skimmed his collarbones as I talked him through the steps. “You pull one side down and hold it taut, fold the front… loop the loop and tighten it while holding all four points.”
I spent more time adjusting the knot than was strictly necessary, then smoothed down his collar and picked an imaginary piece of lint from his chest. His eyes never left my face as I worked.
“Not bad,” I breathed.
“Are you kidding?” Finn laughed. “We look amazing. I want to wear this every night for the rest of my life.”
When they were both dressed, I noticed the etiquette guide lying on the bed. I’d hesitated before sending it, imagining how it would land for two Australians, who had grown up in a place where the greatest show of respect for an authority figure was to treat them as casually as a friend. Now they were being told never to show the monarch their back. Shaking hands is acceptable, but only if she reaches first. “Ma’am” should always sound like “jam,” never “palm.” When dining with the Queen, one must stop eating as soon as she is done.
I looked at them, embarrassed. “Any questions about meeting her? You know how to bow?”
“How’s this?” Finn swooped his arms like a dancer and performed a full court curtsy that ended with him on the floor.
“Okay, that’s perfect for a Texas debutante, but keeping your hands by your side and nodding once from the neck will do it.”
Jack’s hand hovered at the small of my back, his fingertips grazing the bare skin there. “Seriously, we’re good—I made him practise.”
As we entered the main drawing room, murmuring voices hushed to nothing and the huddled groups turned in unison to look at us. Richard and Demelza were by the bar waiting for their martinis. They inspected us briefly, then turned away. Amira was on the couch with Birdie. Granny and Jenny were chatting in the corner, the set of their brows suggesting they were discussing business, not pleasure. While I still had the courage, I pulled Jack and Finn with me across the room.
“Granny, these are my friends,” I said. “This is Jack and Finn, from Tasmania.”
She looked at them kindly while they bowed. “Yes, of course, how nice of you to come all this way. And thank you for the wine. My grandson talked endlessly of your sparkling after he visited your vineyard.”
For her entire life, Granny had been the woman on the banknote and the portrait in the government building, but there was no one more adept at making herself a flesh-and-blood human when she encountered her subjects. My nerves evaporated like snowmelt on the first day of spring as she asked Jack about the vineyard and its history. A tray of martinis arrived. The candles burned. The Clarences sat down and offered Jack and Finn limp handshakes and superior smiles.
The others were talking in intricate detail about the stag they’d been hunting for two days, so I retreated to another sofa with Jenny. “He’s doing well,” she whispered to me. “Is he… the reason for your hesitation?”
