True to form, within a minute of our arrival Tom had been pulled away to speak with several MPs. He glanced down at me in apology, but I forced a brave grin.

"I'll be fine," I assured him with a brief peck on the cheek. "Go on."

He squeezed my hand before politely following the tuxedoed man through the thickening crowd.

I had mistakenly assumed dinner implied a smaller affair, but within the adjoining parlours at least fifty people were milling about with more and more filtering in through the double doors.

A served strode by with a tray ladened with champagne. I smiled gratefully as he paused to offer me a flute and had to remind myself not to down the whole thing in one go.

While I had certainly gained plenty of experience navigating society events in recent weeks, I had always done so with Cynthia or Tom to guide me. I wasn't even sure Cynthia knew we were in attendance, though I doubted she didn't.

That woman knows everything, I thought to myself as I took another measured sip.

Including what to say and what definitively not to say. I, on the other hand & to my growing anxiety, had no bloody idea.

"You must be Emma," a voiced chirped behind me.

I plastered a demure smile on my lips and turned to greet a glamorous looking middle-aged woman.

Her long blonde hair was tied back in its typical low bun and her trademark double strand of pearls practically shimmered under the chandelier lighting. She was shorter than she appeared in the papers, but even without Cynthia's guidance, I knew not to voice my observation to the woman standing before. The Prime Minister's wife.

"Y-yes. I am." I stammered before quickly sticking my hand out to her. "Emma Henderson."

She nodded politely and squeezes my fingers. "A pleasure."

"Thank you for having us," I managed to say somewhat more eloquently.

"Oh, I'm so glad you could come on such short notice!" She exclaimed, still not letting go of my hand. "Really the invitation should have been sent to you weeks ago. An administrative oversight. I do apologize."

I smiled politely and didn't correct her that it had been an MP—not her husband—who had extended the invitation.

"It's an honor to be thought of at all," I attempted to assure her.

I glanced around as her trill laugh caught the attention of those around us. "Oh, Emma dear. Surely you must know with all the press you receive that quite a few people think of you quite often."

"I try not to pay attention to the press."

She batted her eyelashes prettily. "But you were once a member of it, were you not?"

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I was, yes. I was a book reviewer until recently."

"For The Print," she nodded.

I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling quite warm. "Yes."

"I noticed they haven't been covering much of the royal family's events these days," she pressed.

I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant, but we were interrupted by a flurry of camera shutters.

I closed my mouth and forced a smile towards the flashing lights. When the photographer finally left, I turned back toward the Prime Minister's wife but she was already patting my shoulder in parting.

"It was lovely meeting you, Emma dear."

"And you," I murmured as I watched her sashay over to a cluster of well-dressed women I assumed to be spouses of MPs.

I sighed. The fact that it was 2018 and still women only made up 32% of elected officials never ceased to boggle my mind.

"Oh how far we've come..." I muttered to myself before taking another sip of champagne.

"Unimpressed?"

Not expecting a response, I was forced to painfully swallowed a cough.

"Derik..." I practically rasped.

"Funny seeing you here," he grinned at me before giving me a once over. "Nice dress."

I felt heat rush to my cheeks and I took another sip in hopes of calming my still seizing lungs. "You're here for work I assume."

He nodded. "And you?"

I hesitated, trying to rack my brain for what Cynthia would want me to say.

"I'm here with Tom," I said, admittedly not exactly hitting the mark.

Derik quickly glanced about the room. "Prince Thomas is here?"

I nodded.

Derik returned his gaze to mine. I could see the question burning behind his eyes, and yet he hesitated. "Off the record—"

"On the record," I interrupted him. "Legacy Works just announced its latest program to assist the resettlement of refugees in the UK."

A slow smile spread across Derik's face. "I heard mentioning of that... So Prince Thomas is here to..."

I shrugged and glanced away. "We're here by personal invitation."

He nodded slowly. "And what do you make of all this?"

I turned back toward him, caught off guard by his interest in my opinion. "Pardon?"

"This party. Your fiancé's new program," he clarified with a faux-casual air.

I held back my smirk as I ignored his attempt to bait me into confirming the engagement rumors. Instead, I focused my attention o the program.

"I think Legacy Works is doing fabulous work. The only pity is that thus far they've been going about it alone. It's high time the rest of us pitch in and do our part."

Derik gave a non-committal nod. "And to those who say Britons shouldn't be forced take on the burdens of the rest of the world?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'd remind them that Britons signed on to do just that when we attempted to conquer and colonize the rest of the world."

Derik's eyes briefly widened in alarm. He cleared his throat before shaking his head and evidently deciding to give me an out. "Forgive me, I must have misunderstood. Are you saying—"

"I'm saying the past is complicated, but our obligations today are not," I said slowly, the words only coming to my mind as I said them aloud. I had no idea what Cynthia would want me to say, yet I knew precisely what I needed to say.

"There is no 'us' and 'them.' Legacy Works helps people—whoever they are, wherever they are. Simple as that."

"Simple as that," Derik repeated as he slipped out his phone and began typing notes just as the butler called for dinner to be served.

"Are you coming in?" I asked him.

He shook his head.

"Press isn't allowed in for the actual dinner. You're safe," he added with a wink.

I was about to quip back when I felt an arm wrap protectively around my waist.

"Reminiscing about the glory days?" Tom teased in my ear.

I smiled up at him. "Just bragging about Legacy Works."

A flash momentarily blinded me. I blinked and saw Derik grinning down at his phone.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say this looks a lot like a wedding photo..."

I felt Tom's arm tighten around me, but I patted it reassuringly having picked up on my old friend's teasing tone.

"You're hysterical Derik. Hand it over."

He laughed but did as he was told and handed me his phone.

It really was a lovely picture. I hesitated before punching in my number and sending to myself. My finger hovered over the delete button as I glanced up again at Tom.

"Maybe it'll replace that damn picture from the bar?"

Tom rolled his eyes but nevertheless nodded, and I handed Derik back his phone with the picture intact.

"I'll see to it that this gets everywhere," he said as he waved his phone in the air.

I nodded in thanks, but Tom merely squeezed me around the middle. "We best be getting in."

Derik bowed his head slightly before making his exit through the double doors leading out into the corridor.

Tom sighed. "Did you really have to give him your number?"

I turned, still hugged in his embrace, and caressed his cheek with the palm of my hand. "He already had it, love."

Impressively, Tom let out an even heavier sigh as he took my hand and kissed it before leading me into the waiting dining room.

"Of course the bugger did," he muttered.