In Bed With Lord Byron

time to time I would lean in and breathe in its scent, glowing with happiness. It was the most romantic thing that had
ever happened to me.
    But no. It was Anthony’s standard parlour trick. I wondered how many girls he had used it on before me. And now Kerry.
    I felt my flower wilt, petals drooping, its sweet scent turning to rot.
    ‘Yes,’ Kerry went on. ‘It really was some chocolate.’
    I let out a breath, opening my eyes and looking straight at Anthony. Challenging him. His eyes touched on the table, the ceiling, the guests, the waiter, Kerry – anywhere but me. I felt
like shaking his lapels and yelling, ‘Look at me!’
    And then suddenly he did. I saw panic in his eyes; panic and apology. He half opened his mouth, as though about to say something. I glared furiously, showing that I wasn’t going to forgive
this.
    Anthony shifted uncomfortably. Kerry, noticing the glance we had shared, flicked me a look, then quickly turned her attention back to Anthony.
    ‘I was terrified she was going to say no,’ said Anthony. He managed to sound confident, but I could sense the nerves underneath; he began to gabble slightly. ‘But she did, she
said yes – so I guess she loved the chocolate.’ He laughed nervously.
    ‘That is
so
romantic,’ Mrs Prendeghast sighed. ‘D’you remember the day you proposed to me, darling?’
    ‘Yes,’ said her husband. ‘If I remember rightly, you said no.’
    ‘I said yes in the end.’
    ‘After I’d asked you ten times.’
    ‘Well now, a girl has to make a man work for her.’ Mrs Prendeghast laughed. ‘That’s what my dear mother taught me. Speaking of mothers, Anthony, I’m so sorry yours
couldn’t make dinner tonight, so horrible to come down with flu and then pass it on to your father – all from a quick afternoon tea. I so hope they’ll be well soon. Is she
definitely coming to the wedding?’
    ‘She is indeed,’ said Anthony.
    For a moment I was overcome with amazement and blurted out: ‘That’s a surprise.’ When the Prendeghasts gave me a weird look, I added quickly, ‘I mean, I thought Anthony
didn’t get on with his mother.’
    ‘Oh, he didn’t,’ said Kerry, ‘but I got them to make up. Now they’re the best of friends.’
    Well, I thought hotly, he obviously listens to her. My head was spinning with all these revelations – I couldn’t believe how quickly things seemed to have changed.
    ‘So,’ Morrison said, ‘when you were in Paris, did you get to see any of the art?’
    ‘After Anthony proposed, we spent most of the time in our hotel room, didn’t we, darling?’ Kerry blushed smugly, nudging him. She flicked me a momentary glance. I could almost
see her painting an invisible ‘one’ in the air.
    Anthony looked down, his jaw flickering, embarrassed. Discussing his sex life in public just wasn’t his cup of Earl Grey. He could be very prudish and reticent about that sort of
thing.
    ‘We visited the Louvre,’ he said, straightening his tie and smoothing down his shirt. ‘It was fascinating.’
    ‘Did you get to see the
Mona Lisa
?’ Morrison asked.
    ‘Oh, that’s me!’ I blurted out without thinking. ‘Leo painted that of me! I
am
the
Mona Lisa
.’
    Oh God. Six pairs of astonished eyes fixed on me. Kerry blinked and then exchanged a look with Anthony that clearly said, ‘Are all your exes this loopy?’ I felt my cheeks grow
hot.
    ‘What I mean is . . . I mean . . . some people say we look a bit alike,’ I said, frowning and staring down at my plate.
    ‘The resemblance is astonishing,’ Mr Prendeghast said, and I cringed, for while I loved his dry wit, it wasn’t much fun being on the receiving end of it. ‘I’ve been
sitting here all night thinking, “My God, who does this British girl look like?” and now I know.’
    I winced, still staring at my plate.
    ‘Well I can’t see it,’ said Morrison slowly. ‘I mean, maybe her eyelashes are a bit similar . . .’
    ‘I admit I can’t either,’ said Mrs Prendeghast. ‘But you know, so many people think I look like Barbra Streisand.’
    I let out a breath, thankful for her egotism. Then I took a sip of water, aware of Mr Prendeghast’s eyes on me. When I looked at him, however, he gave me a light wink and I smiled in
relief. I looked at Kerry, who was watching us, and she quickly shot me a sunny smile, as though patting me on the back for my mistake.
    ‘I think you look like Kate Winslet,’ said Grandma Rose beside me, ‘She’s quite