Page 48 of Duke It Out
“I think he can do better than that, don’t you?”
“What’s she like, this Fenella?” I keep my tone super casual.
Janey and Kate laugh.
“Horsey,” says Kate.
I turn to look at her, and my face clearly states the obvious.
“Yes, I know, I manage the stud farm which makes me pretty much as horsey as you can get.”
“You’re nothorsey-horsey,” says Janey. “She’s basically every cliché about upper class women rolled into one not particularly lovely package.”
“As in not pretty?” I feel a little bit heartened.
“Oh god, no, she’s beautiful.”
I do a sort of internal slump. God knows what he was doing with me, but I suppose I was a one-night-only deal.
“In a sort of brittle way,” Kate adds, rifling in her bag for a lip balm. “Anyway, she got the elbow thank God. As long as he doesn’t come back from New York with some American full of ideas for turning the place into a theme park, we’re fine.”
“So I’m guessing Jamie will be there, too?” I already know the answer. There’s no way Jamie’s missing a party for anything. He might work his ass off on the rewilding project but it’s pretty clear he’s got the work life balance thing sorted out.
Kate runs a finger along her lower lip and glances out ofthe window for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, definitely. The big question is, will Finn make an appearance.”
Where Jamie’s all sunny temperament and cheerful flirtation and Rory’s his polar opposite, it’s strange to think that somewhere in the middle – literally – there’s this other brother.
“What’s he like?” I think about the framed photo in the hallway where the brothers –maybe ten years ago or so – are standing on the lawn with the castle in the background, dogs sprawled at their feet. Rory’s staring at the photographer with his habitual haughty glare, as if challenging them to call him out. Jamie’s grinning in a floppy straw hat, holding the neck of a bottle of champagne. And Finn, he’s got one hand shading his eyes, looking off into the distance as if he’s focused somewhere else entirely. It seems apt that he’s across the sea on the island, somehow.
“Finn? He’s a—” Kate stops as if she can’t find the word.
“He’s an acquired taste,” Janey finishes Kate’s sentence. “I love him because he has zero filter.”
“Isn’t that Rory?” I think of his dry observations on the world the night we spent together in New York. The memory makes my stomach contract again, but this time for a different reason.
“Rory’s a pussycat compared to Finn.” Kate grins as I turn to look at her. “Hard to believe, I know. Finn makes his brother look like a diplomat.”
“Well, that I have to see,” I say laughing.
I hate shopping for clothes more than pretty much anything in the entire world but doing it with Janey and Kate feels like that cute montage part of a rom-com movie. I wriggle in and out of satin and velvet and floofy tulle, twirling as I step out into the waiting area.
“This one?” I peek out in a black velvet dress with a low neck and a boned bodice. I tug at the waistband. “I look like a cushion.”
“It’s not the best,” says Janey tactfully.
Kate widens her eyes and shakes her head. “What about the wine coloured one?”
“With my hair?”
It’s the last one on the rack and I’ve left it deliberately, hoping something else would leap out. It’s not a colour I’ve ever worn before because it feels like it would clash with my dark red hair. I slide out of the cushion dress and put it back on the hanger, hooking it over the mirror. Thank God I had these two here, or I’d have chosen something entirely unsuitable. I genuinely thought balls equalled ballgowns – the Cinderella style. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have been wandering down the sweeping staircase at Loch Morven like Taylor Swift in her Enchanted dress on the Eras tour… and there’s only one Taylor Alison Swift.
I pull back the curtain with a little flourish.
“Oh wow.”
“That’s the one.”
“Are you sure?” I turn to look at myself in the full-length mirror and give a little exclamation of surprise. It’s deep burgundy, made from a soft velvet that feels rich and soft. The neckline is low enough to feel daring without being dangerous and the waist is boned and nipped in tightly, giving me an hourglass shape with a long full sweep of skirt that skims over my bottom and flares out as I twirl.
