Her Royal Highness (Royals #2)(52)

Flora takes off her sunglasses, polishing them with the ends of her scarf. “A bit. I’m not allowed to have any social media, of course, and I’m sure at some point, someone will find that shot on your page and it will end up on one of the blogs or in a magazine, but . . .”

She shrugs. “It’s not exactly a scandalous picture, and I wanted to take it. So I did.”

“I wanted to, so I did,” I say. “Basically your motto.”

Flora lifts her chin at that. “Oooh, I might see about having that officially added to my crest!”

She turns away then, missing the way my mouth drops open a little bit. Right. She has a crest. Because princess.

Shaking my head, I jog to catch up with her, and the two of us are almost to the front steps when a voice says, “There you are.”

We stop there in the front courtyard, the fountain burbling to our left as a tall brunette walks down the front steps. She’s wearing black pants tucked into high glossy boots and a white blouse with an honest-to-god tweed vest. Even though it’s dim outside, an expensive pair of sunglasses rests on top of her head, pulling her hair back from her face.

And it’s a good face. High cheekbones, straight nose, really great brows.

“Tam,” Flora says, pulling up short, and I am in no way surprised that this gorgeous creature in front of us is Flora’s ex.

Tamsin’s eyes slide to me in all my grubby, mountain-climbing glory, and I pull off my beanie, attempting to smooth down my hair, but I can feel my bangs sticking up and off to the side.

“Hi,” I say with a little wave. “So I’ll go on in and let you two—”

Flora threads her arm through mine, and she draws me closer to her side, effectively freezing me in place. “No, stay,” she says. “Tam, this is Quint—Amelia, I mean.”

“Millie, really,” I say, offering Tamsin my hand, and after a beat, she shakes it with a faint “Hullo.”

“Quint’s my roommate at Gregorstoun,” Flora adds, and Tamsin looks back to her, her arms folded loosely over her chest.

“It’s still hard to imagine you there,” she says with a little smile, and Flora finally lets go of my arm to flick her hair out of her eyes.

“It’s not so bad,” she says. “The company is interesting at least.”

Something flickers over Tamsin’s face at that, but then she gives a little laugh. “Good to know. I was hoping I’d get to see you this weekend. I was hoping—”

“Well, you did get to see me, so lucky for you,” Flora interrupts, and then her hand is on my arm again, tugging me toward the house.

We head up the front steps and through the massive door, Tamsin’s eyes on our backs, I’m pretty sure, and only once we’re inside does Flora let out a long breath, reaching up to take off her hat and ruffle her hair.

“Well, that was awful,” she mutters, and I reach out, laying my hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Trust me, I know how awful that feels.”

“Dastardly Jude,” Flora says in response, and I can’t help but giggle a little.

“The very same. But if it’s any consolation, it’s totally Tamsin’s loss.”

Flora looks over at me, and it might just be a remnant of the cold, but I could swear there’s a blush high on her cheekbones. “It is, isn’t it?” she says at last, and when we head upstairs to our rooms, I don’t think anything of slipping my arm through hers again.





CHAPTER 29





When we get back from Skye, Dr. McKee is waiting for us in the front hall. I wonder if she’s going to ask us about our trip or maybe hit up Flora for information on Lord Henry—the school is always on the lookout for wealthy donors, Saks says—but instead, she says, “Welcome home, ladies. I hope you had a lovely time on Skye. One of my favorite places in Scotland.”



“It was gorgeous,” I say, meaning it, and Dr. McKee gives me what I think is a genuine smile.

Then she says, “In your absence, we’ve decided to make a few changes. Miss Quint, for the rest of the school year, you’ll be rooming with Miss Worthington. Miss Baird, Miss Worthington’s roommate, Miss Graham, will be taking Miss Quint’s place in your room.”

We stand there in the hall, not saying anything for a beat, and I have this horrible, jolting thought that Dr. McKee heard about us dancing at Skye. That she somehow knows that it’s like the ground has shifted underneath me and Flora just the tiniest bit.

It makes me want to squirm with embarrassment, and I don’t even look over at Flora when she says, “For heaven’s sake, why? Quint and I were just getting to be friends. Isn’t that the point of being roommates?”

Dr. McKee’s smile tightens just a bit. “The point of being roommates is learning how to share space with other people in a congenial and respectful manner. Friendships are a lovely bonus, but not the point, no.”

This still feels weird to me, and I think Flora might keep fighting, but instead, after another long pause, she only shrugs. “Fine,” she says, and then she turns to me.

“Well.”

“Well,” I echo, very aware of Dr. McKee watching us.

“Suppose I’ll see you in class, Quint.”