Page 14 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
Ameerah let out an exhausted puff, and Nory found herself jealous of her friend’s ability to breathe easily; there would be no more easy breathing for her till bedtime. But when she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, she decided this dress was worth a little asphyxiation.
It was floor-length satin with a fishtail bottom, which complemented her curvy figure, and a chaste Audrey Hepburn neckline. The rich honey-gold color was warm against her pale skin and pink cheeks and picked out the gold streaks in her hair.
She’d brought a choice of evening dresses with her: a teal velvet number that pushed her boobs up impressively high, a navy-blue A-line chiffon gown with long lace sleeves, and an emerald-green dress with a brocade bodice. It would be amiracle if she made it through the week without spilling gravy down the front of at least one of them. She wondered why no one had invented a glamourous socially acceptable bib for eating dinner in evening wear.
Dev knocked on the door to escort Nory and Ameerah down to the drawing room. He looked ethereal in his tuxedo, but then hewasa model.
“You’re so good-looking, it’s like you’re not real,” Nory said as she took his other arm and the three of them descended the stairs. Nory paid particular attention to not tumble down ahead of them in her inadvisably high-heeled shoes. For some people a stiletto heel added a level of grace to the way they moved. In Nory’s case they made her walk as though she had a bike between her legs.
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended,” said Dev, smiling.
“Oh, be flattered, I meant it in the best way.” She stumbled slightly, but Dev steadied her. He’d probably had lots of practice with stilted shoes on the catwalk. “I’ve never seen a person look quite so perfect without a filter.”
The tinkle of music and the hum of voices behind the heavy door met them on the last few stairs, and Nory felt her stomach twist with nerves. She tried to take a steadying breath, but her dress seams creaked under the strain.
As they entered the drawing room, Nory had the sense that she was stepping into a bygone era. The drawing room walls were covered in a repeating pattern of baroque flowers in blue and white. Family portraits hung from the picture rails in ornategolden frames. The dark autumnal hues favored by seventeenth-century painters looked especially moody against the bright walls and the two pale marble fireplaces at either end of the room.
Charles was seated at the grand piano in the corner, idly playing “I Can Give You the Starlight” by Ivor Novello—he always was annoyingly musical—while chatting with Pippa, who was leaning one bony hip against the shiny black wood. She looked chic in a black bias-cut evening dress that showcased her pale skin and ginger hair.
Jenna was sitting with her feet tucked under her on a gold brocade sofa, her red velvet dress so low cut that Nory felt sure she had sticky tape holding her boobs in place. Guy was on the sofa talking animatedly with Jenna, while leaving his hand territorially on Camille’s knee, as she sat beside him looking starstruck in Jenna’s direction.
Ameerah and Dev wandered toward the piano, and Charles smiled and called hello without missing a single note. Jeremy was standing beside a sideboard that showcased various military-themed statuettes in bronze. He was looking intently at his phone, but when he looked up and saw Nory, he pocketed it and crossed the room.
“You look lovely,” he said, smiling, and handed her a glass of something bright green off a tray.
“Thanks, Jez. You scrub up well yourself. I’m used to seeing you in camel cargo trousers and baseball caps on Instagram.”
He laughed. “Yeah, it’s a bit of a change-up from being in a rainforest.”
Nory saw his hand unconsciously touch the phone in his pocket. “How’s Katie?”
“Am I that transparent?”
“It’s understandable.”
“I wouldn’t mind so much if she was in a city at least. I just worry about her and the baby. I mean, we’ve got medical insurance and all that sort of thing, but I’m counting the hours until she’s back in the UK instead of being on an eighty-mile trek along dirt roads to the nearest hospital.”
“How does your mum feel about being a grandma?”
Jeremy’s family owned an estate in the Scottish Borders, not quite as big as the Robinwood Castle lands, although the manor house that he had grown up in was almost as grand as the castle itself. Nory had visited on several occasions during school holidays, and most recently at his wedding to Katie four years ago—Guy had thankfully been on assignment in Mexico at the time and hadn’t been able to attend. Jeremy’s mother was a formidable woman, mostly to be found wearing head-to-toe tweed with a shotgun resting open across her right forearm. His father, Michael McIntosh III, by contrast, was a naturalist and often joked that it was his life’s mission to preserve the local wildlife from being shot at by his wife.
“My mother is beside herself with joy and relief that one of her children is finally giving them a grandchild.” Jeremy smiled. “She’s already bought the baby a pony, and it’s not even born yet. She wants us to hurry up and put our name down at a good school, but Katie and I have decided our child is going state school all the way.”
“What will your mum say to that?”
“I’ll tell her it’s all Katie’s idea; she worships the ground Katie walks on. I think she’s grateful to her for marrying her weird bug-loving son.”
“That’s sweet.”
“What about you? Have you met anyone you love more than books yet?”
Nory laughed. “Not yet. But I remain vigilant.”
Nory and Jeremy had had a very brief thing when they were sixteen, and finishing off their GCSEs. In truth, they were pushed together by a matchmaking Pippa and Ameerah, who thought they’d be perfect for each other: two book nerds together. But the reality was that they were too similar for sparks to properly fly; they’d always been mates, it felt unnatural to try and think of each other as otherwise, and after some unsatisfying fumblings, they’d decided to go back to being homework buddies.
Jeremy’s phone began to ring, and he looked pleadingly at Nory. “It’s Katie. I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this...”
“Go!” Nory laughed. “Go, speak to your lovely pregnant wife and send her my love.”
