I decided to be the best sport I knew how to be. At the very least, I could say hello to all these people who’d come out to this terrible idea of a party. I made the rounds, saying hello to some of the students from Cardinal College I’d once worked with during a production. Poor Meri was there, looking bashful and in awe of this display of modern female bonding.
I glanced around and to my surprise saw Jemima Taft in the corner chatting with Olivia Thresher. I couldn’t believe they’d even dragged poor Olivia into this. I hadn’t seen Jemima for a while. She was William’s financial advisor and I’d come to know her when William catered a dinner for her and some of her extremely wealthy clients, and then she nearly got killed.
“Jemima,” I said with pleasure.
“Lucy. I’ve barely seen you since you saved my life.”
I winced, thinking of that terrible time. “It’s good to see you.”
The server came by with a champagne bottle to top hers up, and she raised a hand. “Just sparkling water for me, thank you.”
The Jemima I’d known not so long ago had such a problem with alcohol that she tended to get blotto drunk and blab her clients’ secrets. She hadn’t even known she was doing it. She looked at me ruefully. “I’m off the booze. One day at a time.”
I said, “I think you’re doing great. And maybe you can look after the rest of us if we get into an unfortunate condition.”
She chuckled at that. “I’ll do my best.”
Violet and my mother, and even my supposedly best friend Jennifer, were standing together killing themselves laughing. At least somebody was enjoying this humiliation.
Then Mother called out, “Hens, hens, gather all together now. We want to get a picture.”
I groaned. The last thing I wanted was a lasting reminder of this. I swore one thing to myself: Rafe was never going to see these photographs.
She got us all into a group and then ran out and dragged the server back in to take some photographs. They insisted I put on my blinking tiara. We must have looked like the Rockettes in wedding garb.
We started making silly poses, and I couldn’t help myself. I started to laugh and got into the spirit of the thing. I was going to be made a fool of anyway. I might as well enjoy it.
Then the moment I’d been dreading arrived. “Okay, let’s get ready for the first stop on our itinerary.” Violet handed around some party favors. In a barf bag. Laughing, she said, “Make sure you hang on to your vomit bag. Just in case.”
I was already feeling queasy just thinking about the evening ahead.
“Right, come on, everybody,” Scarlett called out. We piled out of the pub and onto the street, and there was a small tour bus outside. Instead of a destination, it said, “Lucy’s Hen Night.”
Well, at least they’d thought of everything. Nobody would be drinking and driving. Determined to be a good sport—and if Violet ever got married, to organize her hen night—I got on the bus and sat down. We didn’t go far. Instead of pulling up in front of a noisy gin joint, the bus pulled into the sweeping drive of the Wainwright Hotel. It was one of the most exclusive hotels in all of Oxford. I couldn’t figure out what was going on.
Mother and Violet turned to me, their eyes dancing with suppressed humor. “You may leave your tiara and vomit bag behind, Lucy. But I will treasure that picture always,” Mom said. And then she and Violet fell to laughing so hard, they had to hold each other up in the aisleway of the bus.
Everybody was laughing now, as though they were all in on the joke. And as they abandoned tiaras, I realized everyone was dressed in some of their nicest finery.
I began to relax. I could even perhaps appreciate that it was a pretty good joke. “So I’m guessing I won’t get a private show from a male stripper?”
“Well, we could still arrange it if you wanted one,” Violet said.
I put up my hand. “No.”
I looked for someone I could trust. Alice. “What’s really going on?”
Alice came forward. “It was Jemima who organized it. She has connections here at the Wainwright Hotel. Lucy, we’re having afternoon tea.”
“Afternoon tea. That’s all?” Visions of male strippers and pounding shots danced happily out of my head until Alice shook her head. I groaned. “Wait. Tell me the worst.”
“After the tea, we’re all having spa treatments.”
I burst out laughing. “I can’t believe I didn’t want a hen party. This is the best idea ever.”
Chapter 14
I was having my first fitting for my wedding dress. Naturally, I wasn’t standing in a bridal boutique in front of a triple mirror. I was down beneath my shop in the subterranean apartment complex where some of my vampire knitting club members lived. And I could tell they were pretty excited. For some reason, Sylvia and my grandmother had decreed that no male vampires could be present, even though they’d all had a hand in crocheting the dress.
I wasn’t going to argue. I thought it would be nice for as many people as possible to be surprised by my gown. So, in spite of some grumbling by Theodore and Alfred, and Christopher Weaver muttering that if he’d known, he wouldn’t have worked so hard on the train, they agreed to make themselves scarce while I had my fitting.
I was wearing the pretty new lingerie I had purchased in Paris and never yet worn. It was ivory silk and cost more than my first car. The dress had been put together so beautifully, I couldn’t find a seam. When I complimented them, Sylvia said, “Mabel did it. The poor woman has no idea of color, taste, or style, but she’s an excellent seamstress. We must give her that.”
Mabel didn’t look overjoyed by the most backhanded compliment I’d ever heard, but I
