“They weren’t all like that,” she snapped defensively. “And some of the kids from the Comp were right arseholes!”

What the hell? Were they still arguing over which school was better or worse?

“Granted,” agreed Isaac. “Maybe I just remember your friends better because you were with them.”

“Why would I have made them more memorable?”

“You mean aside from the fact that you used to throw manure at me and you were my mate’s kid sister?”

“You were the one who started Turd Wars!” she said.

“Turd Wars?”

“That’s what we called it.”

“I see. Good name. However, I wasn’t the one who started it.”

“I think you were.”

“I think I would remember.”

“Clearly you don’t.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“Always.”

“Is the offer for dinner still open?”

“Will it be classed as fraternizing?”

Isaac considered. “If a guest invites a member of staff to join their dinner party, the staff member is duty bound to attend.”

“Duty bound?” queried Nory.

“The guest’s will must always be done,” said Isaac.

He was smiling at her and she felt powerless to resist returning it.

“That doesn’t quite fit with the no-fraternizing rule,” Nory countered.

“It’s a gray area.”

“And what about my brother?” she asked.

“Oh, I’ve never fraternized with Thom.”

Nory swiped at him, and he ducked out of the way, laughing.

“Your brother is another gray area. I am leaning toward ‘what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’ ”

“With regards to dinner, you mean.”

“Precisely.”

“We’re meeting in the drawing room for cocktails at seven thirty p.m.,” Nory said, moving out of his orbit and walking away. “Don’t be late!” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t look back after that, and she gave herself points for how cool she was.

Fifteen

Nory was in a flap. She’d been in a flap ever since Isaac had agreed to come to dinner at the castle. Jenna had been delighted when she’d told her, and Pippa had gone ahead and spoken with the chef. She hoped her friends would make a good impression; she was feeling very anxious about it all.

“You need to calm down,” said Ameerah, expertly pulling a straightener through Nory’s hair and twisting to create lazy curls.

“What if Charles says something Charles-ish? You know what he’s like. And Guy . . . oh my god, I can’t even, I’m going to hyperventilate.”

Ameerah passed her the empty hot-water bottle from the dressing table. “Breathe in and out of this,” she said.

“It’s supposed to be paper bags that help, not rubber bladders.”

“Just do it.”

Nory undid the stopper and began to breathe in and out through the water bottle neck. The rubber smell was so strong she could taste it, but weirdly it did seem to help.

“I think I need to tell Camille about Guy.”