Page 46 of The Spare

‘Whatever. It’s not like I have any dignity left to preserve.’

I have no idea where this is going.

‘You have nothing to be ashamed of, hon,’ Flora says. ‘A couple of years ago, Cait had a bit of a… thing with our cousin Eddie. And he was an absolute wanker to her.’

Cait sighs. ‘I’d like to say I was young and naïve. And I was. But I knew exactly what he was like, and I still let him’—she waves her hand around—‘pop my cherry.’

On cue, we all make a face or a noise of sympathy. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. Eddie really is a colossal twat, but there’s no doubt he has the de Vere good looks, so I get it. ‘He must be a lot older than you, no?’ He was in Xav’s year at school, which must make him a good ten years older than Cait. Creepy git.

She grimaces. ‘Yep.’

‘That’s unacceptable,’ I say. ‘On his part, I mean. Not yours, obviously.’

I like Cait. She’s come from humble beginnings and now she’s reading law at Edinburgh. Drive is a characteristic I always admire.

‘We’ve all fallen foul of a nice face and a big dick, duckie,’ Ewan tells her. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. You weren’t the first—look at Violet.’ He gestures at the paused TV.

‘That’s why it reminded me of you guys,’ Flora says. ‘Except, sadly, this is real life, and most twats don’t come to their senses in spectacular style—or turn into decent human beings.’

‘Let’s keep watching,’ Cait says through gritted teeth. ‘At least Violet knows her worth.’

We resume the programme and are rewarded with the main reason we’ve all shown up tonight: the much-touted cameos by Dominic and Georgiana, a.k.a. the Duke and Duchess of Coventry from Season One, who show up with three adorable, golden-haired children.

‘Are they their real kids, do you think?’ Flora asks from the carpet.

‘Definitely not,’ I say. ‘They’re super protective of their children. Makes sense, given Josh’s past.’ Josh Lander, who plays Dominic, was a star from a young age and it seriously fucked him up. His rift with his now-wife, the Oscar-winning actor Ellery Hart, was caused by chronic addiction issues.

It was all so tragic.

That said, the world got a front-row seat to the spectacle that was watching them fall in love again, on and off screen. The chemistry these two had in Season One proved a tough act for the rest of Grosvenor’s stars to follow. You can’t fake that stuff, no matter how skilled an actor you are.

I watch in a blissed-out state as Dominic and Georgiana sit together on a gilded sofa, their sweet children playing at their feet. Dominic has his arm around his wife as if it’s the most natural state in the world. Their hotness levels are insane. They’re both so golden.

Every woman on the planet is in love with Josh Lander, that gorgeous American whose patrician looks translate so well to Regency England (and don’t even get me started on how incredible his ducal accent is), but I’ve crushed hard for years and years on his wife, Ellery, the poster child for cerebral actors who know their worth and are vocal about their values. I admire her so much, not least because it seems to me that she’s never compromised on her integrity.

There aren’t many people operating at her level about whom you can claim that.

The aesthetics in this scene are also off the charts. Ellery-slash-Georgiana is in a pale green gown I’d call pistachio with intricate platinum embroidery, and the room itself is done in a mixture of blush tones and raspberry. I’m going to have to rewatch this with Ewan and dissect the interior motifs to death, I think, but he’s one step ahead, as usual.

‘Why do these colours make me want to have an orgasm?’ he asks no one in particular.

‘I’ve been trying to work this out,’ Ivy says quietly. She’s been pretty silent all evening. ‘I think it’s the pistachio and the raspberry together with that pale pink on the wall panels—the interplay is incredible. If that pink was any more sickly, it wouldn’t work, but it’s so pale, almost like plaster. It’s really, I don’t know—austere? Is that the right word? That’s why it works—I think, anyway.’

She finishes her little speech with a self-deprecating shrug and hastily takes a gulp of her champagne as I stare at her and then back at the screen.

Fuck. She’s right. It’s totally that plaster-toned pink that pulls the green and the raspberry together without being garish. I recall Ben telling me she was an extraordinarily talented artist and that she’d painted Xavier a beautiful little oil of Belvedere for Christmas. Clearly, she knows her colours.

‘Ten out of ten,’ Ewan tells her with an I told you she’d be worth getting to know look in my direction. ‘Smashed it, darling. Any time you want to come and play with our colour swatches, you give me a bell.’

I roll my eyes. That’s another bloke she’s won over, and this one isn’t even straight.

The finale comes to a gorgeous, grandiose end, and we keep drinking.

‘How’s it going with Harry, Flor?’ Ivy asks at one point. I’ve been texting with Minty and Annabel about the epicness of the finale, but I look up for Flora’s answer. I have to say, she and Harry were so sweet together at the wedding reception.

‘It’s good, yeah,’ Flora squeaks, but it’s more of an embarrassed squeak than an excited one.

‘I thought things were great,’ Cait protests. ‘You were saying earlier how well he was treating you.’