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I’ve fallen in love with England already.
Or maybe I’ve just fallen in love with what England has given me so far.
The loss of my virginity to the man I adore.
Who can’t stand the sight of me now.
Nope. Can’t go there. I need to enjoy this experience of afternoon tea. Besides, I don’t want all eyes on me while I’m sniffling.
We all take a seat, and I nearly slide off the silky brocade. I push my feet into the elegant carpet to save face.
Havisham bows. “I’ll go prepare your tea. As I said, Mr. Ainsley will be in shortly.”
“Right behind you, Havisham,” a low voice says.
An elderly gentleman enters the room. He has a shock of silvery-white hair, and he walks upright without the help of a cane. Ennis Ainsley is eighty-eight years old. This gentleman doesn’t look a day over seventy. He wears a blazer with leather patches on the elbows, blue jeans, and brown leather loafers.
“Here you all are,” he says.
Brock stands, walks to him, and shakes his hand. “It’s so good to see you again, Mr. Ainsley.”
“Yes, Brock. You too. Have you forgotten to call me Ennis?”
“As you wish, Ennis.” Brock introduces us all, and Mr. Ainsley comes to me first.
“Goodness, Brianna. You look exactly like your father.”
“That’s the same thing he said tomewhen we met.” Brock laughs. “About my father.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say.
“As it was meant.” He continues to gaze at me, squinting his eyes. “But my God… No, it’s not Talon you resemble. It’s your grandmother. Daphne Wade.” He widens his eyes then. “I feel like I’ve gone back in time. She was such a beauty.”
I’m not sure what to say. Luckily, he keeps speaking.
“I think you weren’t but two the last time I saw you.”
“That would’ve been twenty years ago, then,” I say.
“Yes, the timing is about right. Havisham will be in with the tea in a moment.”
Less than thirty seconds pass before Havisham comes back, pulling a trolley along.
“I asked Havisham to prepare two types of tea today.” He gestures to two ornate porcelain teapots, both depicting what I assume are English landscapes. “I of course prefer a basic black afternoon tea. I didn’t know if all of you are tea drinkers, so he also prepared a nice herbal infusion of hibiscus and chamomile as well. Ladies first, of course.”
Havisham approaches me. “Miss?”
“Thank you. I’ll have the black tea.”
He pours tea into a china cup with a less detailed etching of the landscape from the teapot. “Milk or sugar?”
“No, thank you.”
Havisham hands the cup to me on a saucer, along with a plate that contains a scone and a small sandwich.
“What is this?” I ask.
“A cream scone and a cucumber sandwich with a bit of watercress.”
