“Mum,” Mary whispers, sounding scandalized but patting her mother’s hand. “I’m sure he was just being cheeky. Don’t be crude in front of guests.”

Eddie smirks, having gotten away with abusing Colton and insulting Nan. And that’s all before he’s sat down.

He steps to Edwin’s side, pulling a chair out. His ‘friend,’ who seems to think this is some sort of comedy performance for her benefit, goes to sit down, obviously assuming Eddie is being a gentleman for her.

She learns the hard way, crashing to the carpeted floor with a squawk that makes her sound a lot like a startled chicken. I gape at the poor thing as Eddie sits down, not even offering the girl a hand up or even a glance to acknowledge that she’s on her ass on the floor.

Admittedly, I’ve been in a bit of the same situation rather recently with the whole debacle in Colton’s office. The one-upmanship I can offer on Eddie’s girl is that at least I had on panties. She very clearly does not. And I’m not the only one who notices. Colton looks away immediately, being a gentleman. Edwin sneers down at the poor thing, somehow both ogling her openly and judging her all at once.

I know he’s Colton’s father, but the only thing I can think is . . . disgusting pig. And I can see where Eddie gets his ‘charm’.

Lizzie goes to help, but the girl shrugs her off. Pulling together what dignity she has left, she smooths her hair and what little dress she’s wearing as she gets up and pulls out a seat to sit next to Eddie.

“Smooth, as always,” Colton says, staring daggers at his brother.

“Alfred!” Eddie bellows, seemingly oblivious to how he’s acting or perhaps not giving a damn, “hurry up, you’re taking too bloody long. I’m much too sober for this.” Eddie leans back in his seat, finally realizing that a guest is at the table. He eyes me with a flirty smirk I’m sure he practiced in the mirror, even though his girl is right next to him. “Well, now, who is this yummy biscuit?”

I glance at Edwin and Mary, expecting that even if they favor Eddie that they’d have some sort of line . . . but Mary just looks cowed while Edwin is almost amused by his eldest child’s boorish behavior.

Meanwhile, the only thing keeping me in my seat is Colton’s hand on my thigh, gentle and supportive. Though I’m supposed to be the one helping him through this mess, for the moment, I’ll take the silent order to play nice. Otherwise, I’m going to end up in a jail somewhere, and they’ll probably only serve tea to drink. I’ll die of dehydration, and Eddie’s definitely not worth that.

“Elle Stryker,” I grit though clenched teeth. I’ve been called a lot of names by jackasses in my day, but ‘yummy biscuit’ feels like one of the most demeaning. That might have more to do with Eddie than the actual turn of phrase, though. He makes me feel like I need a shower to wash off the oiliness of his gaze.

“Elle is Colton’s sweetheart,” Mary adds. “Isn’t that wonderful? They just arrived.”

“Well, now.” Eddie’s leer somehow becomes even worse. Even from across the table, it feels too intimate. “Perhaps I should call bagsy on the piece of American pie my little brother’s brought home?”

I glare at Eddie, having been insulted and hit on by better men than him. “What’s bagsy mean?”

I don’t even look to Colton as I ask, but he answers my question. “Like ‘dibs’ in America.” Colton stands, both palms flattening on the table as he leans across toward Eddie. “Quit being a prat. Respect Elle. She’s my girlfriend.”

Eddie’s shrug is careless, but Colton sits down. At least I won’t be bailing him out of jail either. Eddie really brings out the worst in everyone.

“A right tart,” Eddie’s girl says as she laughs, her voice rising piercingly until she breaks and ends up snorting like a pig.

And here I thought I actually should pity the girl. But it’s every woman for herself when she’s throwing me under the bus and then laughing like a jackass on meth.

“Seriously?” I don’t mean the word to come out, or at least to be audible, but it slips out and she hears me. The whole table hears me.

“What’s that, Yank?” the girl asks, maybe getting that her comment wasn’t appreciated. The only good news is that I know for a fact that she’s not concealing a weapon. I’ve seen up and down her dress, and there’s nothing there other than exposed body parts. Though her acrylic nails might be deadly weapons.

Maybe she can give Eddie a hand job later and Bobbitt him? It’d serve him right, I suspect.

I backpedal my thoughts, though, playing the part of the well-mannered woman my dad raised me to be. Though the sweetness is all saccharine. “I was saying, we haven’t been properly introduced. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“It won’t matter tomorrow,” Nan says, sipping her tea.

Eddie proves her point, saying flippantly, “Oh, this is Amelia.”

She squawks again. “Ava!”

Eddie shrugs, and Nan looks rather pleased with herself for being correct.

Alfred appears with a bottle of wine and stands at Edwin’s side, waiting to be acknowledged. When Edwin nods, Alfred uncorks the wine and dramatically pours a small dash in a wine glass.

Edwin swirls it around, putting on quite the show as conversation stops, waiting for him. He sniffs and then takes a sip, swishing it around like it’s mouthwash. I’m not a wine connoisseur, but I’ve had my fair share of vino. Maybe more than my fair share, if I’m being entirely truthful. What I’ve never done is hollow my cheeks like I’m giving a blow job and make squishing sounds in my mouth that make it look like I’m a spitter, not a swallower.

Finally, Edwin swallows, and without looking at Alfred, he deems it acceptable. “It’ll do.”

Alfred pours a glass for Edwin, then for Eddie. Ava takes one as well. Colton declines, and while I’d rather have wine than tea any day, I decline as well, following his lead. Lizzie and Mary decline as well, but Nan accepts with another biting remark. “If he’s drinking the good stuff, then by Queen Victoria, I am too.”

Nan means it. She picks up the glass, and faster than I can say ‘bottoms up’, it’s empty and she’s setting it back on the table. I’m reminded of the Japanese dinner with Colton because, as though he expected it, Alfred is standing at the ready to refill it.

“Nan, don’t get knackered before we’ve even had a proper dinner.” Edwin’s scold is met by a glare so cold, it could send snow to the equator.

“Mind your own,” Nan says, gesturing to Edwin’s wine glass with her own. “So, what brings you to hell, Coltie? Though I’m certainly glad you’re here.”

Nan is on a roll. I think I might love her a little bit. I’m also still worried she might be a smidge crazy. Or maybe more? What’s bigger than a smidge?

A long-ago memory of a home-ec class I once took comes back to me. Smidge, pinch, dash . . . smallest to largest. Nan is definitely a dash mad. At least. I bet she could hang with any dare Tiffany or I could give her, and that’s a grand compliment in my book.

“Yes, Coltie. You practically ran out in the middle of the night. I never even figured out why you were going over the pond.” Eddie’s smug self-satisfaction says he knows exactly why.