Royals (Royals #1)(14)

At my side, Dad mimics my shrug. “Probably,” he agrees, and I think if Glynnis weren’t sitting right next to her, Ellie would’ve slammed her computer shut.

As always, Mom is the peacemaker. “All right, all right, enough. I’m your mother, so I get the final say in this. Glynnis, you think having Daisy over there during all this engagement . . . kerfuffle will make things easier on her?”

“Mom!” I squawk, but she just holds up her hand, still looking at the laptop.

Glynnis looks up from her phone and gives that man-eating grin again. “I do. The more control we have over this situation, the better. I know it just looks like one measly blog post now, but trust me, these things spiral.” Her accent turns that word into an actual spiral, vowels stretching, the r twisting.

Before any of us can say anything, Glynnis goes on. “Of course we can start small. Most of the bigger, potentially more stressful functions won’t start up until we get closer to the wedding. There’s no need to throw Daisy into the deep end of the pool with Their Majesties.”

Their Majesties. The Queen and Prince Consort of Scotland, who I’d now be hanging out with.

Now it’s my stomach spiraling.

“Isabel—” I start.

“Can come visit you here,” Glynnis finishes smoothly. “We’ll arrange everything.”

“I need to at least talk to her,” I say, but Glynnis is already talking again.

“Next week, the Marquess of Sherbourne is throwing a little house party for Eleanor and Alexander. That will be close family and intimate friends only, and just the younger set. It would be a good place to start, don’t you think?”

Glynnis turns to Ellie on that, and I can tell my sister isn’t so sure. Her long fingers are still twisting her ponytail, making her massive engagement ring wink. “If . . . if you think that’s best,” she says, and Glynnis pats her arm. Her nails are the same bright red as her lipstick.

“Seriously, am I invisible? Are you just planning this like I haven’t said no a thousand times?” I cut in, looking between my parents, and Dad heaves a sigh, thin shoulders moving beneath his Hawaiian-print shirt.

“The train is rolling, my Daisy-Daze,” he says in a low voice. “Best to get on board before you’re crushed on the tracks.”

“I know you’ve been looking forward to Key West, love,” Mom says on my other side, “but I really do think Glynnis here and Ellie have come up with a fine solution. And think how thrilled Isabel will be to come to Scotland to see you! Key West isn’t going anywhere, either, and you can always go when you get home.”

“Exactly,” Glynnis says, gesturing with one hand like she’s showing me the fabulous prize I just won. “And of course, Mr. and Mrs. Winters,” she adds, “we’d love to have the two of you as well. As I said, the party is mostly for the younger set—”

“And for drinking and debauchery,” Dad says, sitting up in his chair with a sigh. “Yes, yes, I’ve had my fill of that, so we can pass on the party. Get right to meeting Berry’s new family, shall we?”

“Dad!” El says, her cheeks turning pink, eyes shooting again to Glynnis.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dad says with a wave of his hand. “Meeting Eleanor’s new family.”

Ellie’s hands go round and round her hair, and had I just not had my own summer trampled on, I’d feel kind of sorry for her. She’s worked so hard for the past few years to keep things in their separate boxes, and now, thanks to one stupid blog, those boxes are about to be dumped out on her head.

“So it’s set, then?” Glynnis asks, leaning in so that her face almost completely blocks Ellie’s. “The Winters family is coming to Scotland?”

Mom, Dad, and I share a three-way glance, and after a pause, Dad lifts his wineglass in a salute.

“Aye,” he says, putting on a broad Scottish accent that has El’s eyes widening. “We are indeed, lassie.”





Chapter 7


Sitting in the back of a town car, watching the gentle hills of the Scottish Lowlands roll by, I wonder if jet lag is making me hallucinate.

Last week, I was working at a grocery store, studying to retake the SAT, and hanging out with Isabel. Today, I’m on my way to a castle.

We got in yesterday after flying first class into Heathrow in London, then taking a smaller plane to Edinburgh. While I might object to a lot about my sister’s new lifestyle, first class was something I could appreciate. We didn’t just have seats, we had these little pod things, complete with actual beds. I’d spent the first few hours of the flight just scrolling through all the movies and TV shows available, then listened to fifteen minutes of the spa channel just because I could. There had also been great food, free champagne (not that I’d gotten much more than a sip before Mom had taken my glass away), and, best of all, free pajamas. Really comfy white cotton ones, too. Dad had said they made us all look like cult members, but I’d noticed him stroking his own arm once he’d changed into them.

Once we’d landed, we’d been hustled off to a hotel, but that was a blur of suitcases and cars and Glynnis’s very red smile. She had looked even more terrifying in person, and I’d snapped a surreptitious pic to email to Isabel once we were at the hotel. (“That lady is totally getting you ready for the Hunger Games” had been Isabel’s reply.)