Right Number, Wrong Girl

“Or you’ll beat me with it?”

She grinned. “You’re smart. I like you.”

I laughed, but quickly brushed it away with a clearing of my throat. “Shall we get these menus over and done with? I know you’re not a fan of this party and obviously have better things to do, but family are the worst.”

“How do you like my grandsons? Would you like to marry one? I’d recommend Henry over Hugo. He’s a bit of a mardy bastard at times.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Also, you don’t have to do the fancy duchess thing with him. You can live your best socialite dreams in London.”

I flicked my tongue over my lips. “Actually, I’d rather a place in the countryside, long-term speaking.”

Evelyn held up her hands. “Got that.”

“I can’t decide if you’re kidding or not.”

“Good. That means you’re not entirely opposed to it.”

“I’m not exactly enthralled with the idea.”

“What’s wrong with my grandsons?”

“From what I’ve learnt, one has no manners, and one is exasperated from putting up with the other. Forgive me if neither of those traits are exactly exciting.” I said it with as much nicety as I could muster. “Shall we move to the table to go over these menus?”

Evelyn cackled and used her stick to help herself to her feet. “You really are smart. I suppose my daughter-in-law doesn’t seal the deal either.”

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me to comment on Lady Devon,” I said slowly.

“It’s not appropriate for me to say what I do about her, either, but I still do.” She took a seat at the table. “She’ll not hear a word from me. In fact, I try not to talk to her unless I absolutely have to. I already have an arsehole; I don’t need another one.”

I almost choked on my own damn saliva at that.

Wow.

She really did not think much of her son’s choice of wife.

Not to be that person, but I wasn’t entirely sure I liked her, either. At least that was what my gut told me.

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” I admitted, bringing our cups of tea over to the table.

She continued laughing—she had the dirtiest laugh I’d ever heard, and I’d imagine it was the kind of laugh that usually preceded her getting into some form of trouble.

All right.

Maybe I wasn’t afraid of everyone in this house.

I kind of wanted to be Evelyn.

“Right. What shit has my daughter-in-law put on this menu? I bet there’s no pizza, is there?”

I didn’t know if she was being serious or not, but if I had to bet, I’d say she was.

“There’s no pizza,” I said slowly.

“Right.” Evelyn pushed her teacup out of the way and plucked my pen out of my hand. She clicked the top with a little too much vigour and stole my notebook, then wrote ‘menu’ in big block letters on top. “We’re going to write a real menu.”

“I’m not sure you can serve pizza in a five-course meal, Evelyn.”

“It’s my birthday. Can’t I eat what I like?”

“I suppose, but perhaps you can at least look at the menus I was given?” I held them out with a hopeful smile.