Page 55 of Scandal
“Yes. You will need help managing it all.”
“Managing what exactly?” Am I not just putting on a few fancy dresses and showing up for a gala here and there? What else is there to do?
“Evie.” Theodora presses her lips together into a fine line. “Can you hand Mercury her schedule, please?”
I force myself not to repeat her this time. But seriously…I have a schedule?
Asher’s hand covers mine, and I feel a bit of relief, knowing he’s here next to me, ready to help if I need it.
Evie stands and walks the few steps to hand me a crisp piece of paper. It’s heavy and written in elegant cursive with today’s date at the top.
I am so not in Hollywood anymore…
My eyes scan the fancy schedule and begin to widen.
And widen.
There’s just so…much.
Wake-up call at seven. Breakfast with the family at eight. Etiquette lessons from nine to eleven. Dress fitting and styling…The list just goes on and on.
“Is this every day?” I ask, swallowing nervously.
“Day to day may differ, but for the most part, yes. But don’t worry. Evie will manage it all and make sure you get where you need to be.”
“And Asher?” I ask. “What will he be doing while I’m”—I glance down at the heavy cardstock—“in history class?”
“It isn’t just history class,” the earl interjects. It’s the first time he’s spoken since we arrived, and I immediately straighten my spine at the sound of his deep, refined voice. I kind of hate myself for it. “It’s royal history, and it’s crucial. Learning the names and titles of the most important people in our country is essential to your role. You will need to know not only who you’re talking to but also the legacy they carry.”
In other words, I need to know whether they were worth our time or not.
“I think she gets the point,” Theodora says, patting his hand. He sinks back in his chair, looking pale.
I squeeze Asher’s hand.
“Asher will have his own schedule to keep,” Theodora continues without so much as a glance at her husband. “He has much to learn if he’s going to take over his father’s duties soon.”
Stuart’s jaw tightens, and I wonder whether it bothers him that she’s being pragmatic about his imminent death.
Because it certainly bothers me.
“I’d like to have tea together,” I say, feeling suddenly bold.
“Tea?”
I nod. “I see there is a blocked time for afternoon tea on my schedule. I would like to spend it with Asher.”
“But Asher will be having?—”
“Tea with me,” I demand.
Her eyes narrow, and my breath stops. I’ve noticed in the short time we’ve known each other that the only times I’ve earned her respect or admiration are when I push back.
So, as scary as it is, I’m going to keep doing it. Even if I want to crawl into a hole in the ground every time she looks at me like that.
“Fine,” she relents with a wave of her hand. “I’m sure we can get some PR value out of it. Now, let’s get to Asher’s schedule, and then we can move on to the list of events for the following week.”
We’re going to be a while.
