She urged another manservant to enter; this man was holding a golden, velvet sack.
Everyone raised their goblets when Claire did, but Claire wasn’t through. “Ben,” she said, singling out her brother, standing on tiptoes, searching for Ben and frowning when she didn’t spy him. But then she waved him away, dismissing him for the instant, and turned to Alexandra. “Lexie,” she said. “My dearest, most beloved friend.”
She gave Alexandra the sweetest smile as the manservant lifted his golden sack, and Claire reached inside, rummaging about, lifting up a small package and putting it back. At last, she found the precise gift she was searching for, and handed it out to Alexandra. “Please don’t open it yet,” she said.
And then, she turned to Prince Merrick and his lovely wife. “Chloe, Merrick,” she said. And she repeated the effort with the golden sack, handing each in turn a small golden gift.
Smiling still, she turned to Wes Cameron and to his lovely, but mysterious companion. “Mr. Cameron, Lady Morrissey, thank you so much for all you have done for us. We will ever be in your debt.” And then she handed both guests small packages as well. “Thank you, Ryo,” she said, hugging the manservant before he left, then she turned to lift her glass for a toast. “Thank you all so much for sharing our holiday!”
“Hear, hear!” said Ian, and barely suppressing his grin, he tossed his entire glass of champagne down his gullet.
When Claire drank as well, Alexandra lifted her goblet to her lips, wishing she had the gumption to drink as Ian drank and then ask for a dozen more.
Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling of distress. She was grateful to be with Claire, and she was very glad to know Claire’s new friends, but something wasn’t right at all, and she could hardly bear the fact that Ben was so aloof.
But then again, how could she blame him?
Unlike Chloe, Alexandra was no diamond in the rough. She was the daughter of a fiend, and very, very clearly, neither Claire nor Chloe nor Lady Morrissey were pretending to be other than they were. Meanwhile, for all these past years, Alexandra had tried so desperately to mold herself to please her mother and father, and she’d tried no less to mold Claire as well—all to no avail. Thank God, or else where would Claire be?
Alone, like Alexandra.
Certainly not marrying her charming prince.
Prince Merrick was the next to speak. He toasted his twin, and clearly emotional, the brothers embraced, clapping each other fiercely upon their backs. It was difficult not to catch a sting to the eye when they broke free of their embrace and Merrick took his brother by the face, kissing his cheek.
(At least Alexandra presumed it was Prince Merrick, since he was not the one giving googly eyes to Claire.)
“You may now open your gifts,” announced Claire, and Alexandra set down her goblet, lifting up the gilded gift, so beautifully wrapped.
Upon closer inspection, she realized the golden wrapping was patterned differently for each guest. Hers displayed an explosion of silver-leaf butterflies— a shared love for both Lexie and Claire, though for very different reasons. Ever since she was a child, Claire had imagined herself a butterfly cocooned, and Alexandra had dearly loved discovering chrysalises in her garden.
Excited, she made short work of the wrapping and tucked inside a small velvet box she found a necklace, with a lovely clasp in the shape of a butterfly. On the chain itself was an engraved locket, and inside the locket she found a portrait of Claire…
Beautiful, beautiful Claire, whom she’d known most of her life.
Sweet, wonderful Claire… who would be gone all too soon.
Alexandra swallowed with some difficulty, hard-pressed to note what anyone else had received. Her own gift shattered her heart to small bits. It was beautiful, certainly, though it was a bittersweet reminder that very soon this golden locket was all she would have remaining of oldest, dearest friend… and… Claire was no longer a butterfly cocooned… she was a lovely winged butterfly preparing to fly away soon.
Her very first instinct—her only instinct—was indubitably the one thing she could never again do… seek solace against Ben’s shoulder.
CHAPTER 5
Rule No. 5:
On keeping one’s breath fresh.
Fresh breath is festal breath! Keep peppermints in your reticule, or, if your reticule is not handy, opt for a sip of brandy or port. Also, please remember you are not required to kiss any animal, no matter how adorable, although you may sometimes find it preferable.
Already well in his cups, Ben reappeared shortly before dinner, still avoiding Alexandra’s gaze.
It didn’t matter, she told herself. She didn’t need Ben’s approval, nor his attention, but then, to make matters worse, she was assigned the worst possible seat at the table. To her right sat Ben—of course—his body rigid and his demeanor inhospitable.
Directly across from her sat Prince Merrick, and flouting all convention, he sat beside his cheery wife.
Naturally, Ian and Claire took seats of honor, and after everyone was settled there were still a few empty seats remaining for the Duchess and her brood. It was all Lexie could do not to rise up and take one of those, because Ben’s proximity was making her feel… confined.
Tipping her goblet, she drained what little remained of her champagne then smiled amenably at Prince Merrick, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t remember the horrible night at Almacks. To her relief, he smiled back, and said conversationally, “As I understand it, you and Claire have been friends for quite some years?”
Very gently, as though the glass might break, Alexandra put down her now empty goblet. “Yes, Your Highness,” she said very politely.
“Call me Merrick,” he insisted. “Amidst friends, I am neither prince nor regent.” He lifted his glass, knocking it toward his brothers and said, “In any case, the honor now belongs to my brother.”
“Merrick,” she relented. “Thank you.”
But she couldn’t help it; tears stung her eyes as she cast Claire a discomfited glance. It seemed inevitable that every person in attendance must know her history with Claire… and her father’s, as well.
“Oh, but Merrick,” said Ben, lifting his gaze—like a viper. “Perhaps you don’t recall, but you two have already had the pleasure of an introduction…”
Judas!
Alexandra blinked, refraining from casting Ben a baleful glance. Forcing a smile, she tried hard not to fling out an elbow and “accidentally” poke him in the eye. That night at Almacks was easily the most embarrassing evening of Alexandra’s life. She’d gushed incessantly over Prince Merrick, only to share a very brief dance with him—completely orchestrated by her mother—and then, after suffering his unyielding silence and countering it with endless chatter, he’d discarded her wordlessly by her mother’s side, his boredom and disdain perfectly equitable in his expression.
Far from that now, Prince Merrick smiled very warmly, casting yet another loving glance at his wife. “Actually, I do recall,” he said good-naturedly. “One of Victoria’s soirees, is that correct?”
“Yes,” said Alexandra, her cheeks burning hot. “I believe it must have been the first time you visited London.”