Ramsay(22)

I sighed. "I shouldn't care what they think," I said. "I shouldn't care what anyone thinks."

She looked at me thoughtfully. "Em, well," she said after a long moment,  "we're made to care, aren't we, though? Find me the person who doesn't  care a whit what anyone else thinks of them and I'll show ya someone  very lonely. The trick, I believe, is to know whose opinion matters and  whose doesn't." She paused and I thought how very wise she sounded for  such a young girl. Then again, if anyone would know something about  being shunned by others based on superficial things, it would be the  girl who had worn braces on her legs for most of her life.

She gave me a small smile before continuing. "Ya gettin' back out there  proves to them and to ya that those girls don't matter. They do not get  the satisfaction of watchin' ya break over their petty antics." She  worried her lip as if she were strategizing. Slowly, my cold despair was  being replaced with warmth.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked. "Yesterday you hated me."

She looked me in the eye. "I believe in slappin' someone once and movin' on. I've moved on now. Have ya?"

"Um . . . sure."

She laughed, a sweet, musical sound. "Okay, wash your face. I'm gona  re-do your makeup and then you're gona be forced to wear a different  shirt. Unfortunately, the only choice is gona be one quite a bit  smaller, like." She gave me an innocent shrug, and I laughed, a genuine  one this time. "My brother is gona self implode."

"Your brother is the one enjoying himself. He arranged this."

"Oh no, Lydia. My brother might be actin' like a man baby, but I can  promise ya he's not enjoyin' himself." She grinned. "Which is gona make  it all the better."

"Wait, you slapped me for hurting him yesterday, and now you want to help me upset him?"

"He brought this one on himself. He's just gettin' what he deserves in this case. Now wash."

I turned to the sink and did as she said while she slipped out. I was  drying my face and smoothing my hair when she knocked again, entering  the bathroom with my makeup bag and a new white shirt. "I grabbed this  from your bathroom," she said, holding up the makeup bag. "The  red-haired girl on the caterin' staff had an extra shirt with her." She  tossed it to me.

I looked at it. "The one who looks like she's twelve?"

Eileen grinned. "Yeah. I need ya to go get your laciest bra."

Fifteen minutes later, when my hair and makeup were done and my shirt  was as buttoned up as a shirt three sizes too small would get, I looked  at myself in the mirror. "I look like a prostitute."                       
       
           



       

Eileen came up behind me, tilting her head slightly, sizing me up before  she gave me a pleased smile. "Aye. A high-class prostitute," she  qualified. "One who dates married politicians."

My startled eyes met hers in the mirror, and I burst out laughing,  thinking she was just what I had needed. I had needed a friend. And  Eileen Ramsay had shown up. Life was full of surprises, and this was one  I would never have expected.





CHAPTER TEN




Brogan



I rubbed my jaw as I surveyed my party. My stupid fucking party that had  gone to hell in a hand basket. I'd set it up to go down just the way it  had, so why did I feel like the devil himself? Watching Lydia run away  from the group of bitches I'd invited purposefully to torment her hadn't  offered the least bit of satisfaction. On the contrary, it had filled  me with anger and made me want to protect her from the situation I had  put her in. I'd thought about chasing after her, but I was probably the  last person she wanted to see right now. I'd let her lick her wounds in  her room and go to her after the party.

Despite all my internal justification, I knew I was acting unreasonably  when it came to Lydia. I fucking knew it, I just couldn't figure out  why. Or maybe I just didn't want to. "Fucking feck," I muttered,  clenching my jaw harder when I saw Fionn and Eileen heading toward me.

"Where's Tiffani with an i?" Eileen asked, taking a sip from the  champagne glass in her hand. For a second I had absolutely no idea who  she was referring to. Ah, my date. Right.

"Mingling I guess," I said. She might have left for all I knew.

Fionn turned to Eileen. "She got tired of him ignorin' her and not  movin' his eyes from that poor servant girl. What was her name again?  Ah, Lydia. Poor, trampled Lydia. I hear she deserved it, though. So why  then, I must ask," Fionn questioned, putting his finger on his chin as  if in thought, "does my dear friend and your dear brother look so  miserable about it?" He shot me a taunting smile.

"Fionn . . ." I said, a warning in my tone. Fionn simply laughed.

"It's true. Ya don't look like you're enjoyin' your victory, brother  dearest," Eileen said, giving me an innocent smile. I scowled at her.

"I think Brogan has found himself in a be careful what ya wish for  scenario," Fionn mock whispered, leaning close to Eileen as if I  couldn't hear him. "Either that or he has a brutal case of indigestion.  Sour stomach? What else is it referred to? Ah," he held up a finger,  "heartburn."

"I'd have to agree, my perceptive friend," Eileen said, letting out a dramatic sigh.

"What I want to know is why exactly this is so damned funny to you two?" I asked through my clenched jaw.

Eileen took another sip of champagne, glancing around as if looking for  something specific. Technically, she shouldn't be drinking any alcohol  at all since she wasn't twenty-one, but it was a private party, I'd let  it slide. "Your misery is of your own makin' this time, Brogan. In  exactin' your revenge against the De Havilland family, you've turned  yourself into exactly what ya claim to despise. These are ya friends  now?"

"All of a sudden you're on her side?" I asked, knowing I sounded like a  petulant child and hating myself just a little bit more. Of course the  people here weren't my friends.

"I'm on your side. Always. Which is why I'm against this. It's beneath  ya. I disliked her for hurtin' ya. Slappin' her yesterday felt mighty  good. But I didn't want to ruin her life for it, or watch her suffer the  same treatment we once endured by that group of purposeless bitches."  She nodded over to Lydia's old high school friends who were still  laughing and twittering, most likely reliving every moment of bossing  Lydia around like she was their own personal Cinderella.

I looked at Eileen, my guts twisting. "You slapped her yesterday?"

She nodded, and I clenched my eyes shut for a moment. "Well, yeah. She  took it like a champ, just like she's doin' today. I have a feelin' she  believes she deserves this. Which is part of why she's takin' it. But  the girl has some pride, too. Damned if I don't respect her for it."

I didn't even bother to look at Eileen. I knew she was right. I opened  my mouth to respond when the door to the house opened, and a girl with a  tray walked outside. I almost choked when the tray was lowered. Lydia.  Oh shite. She had obviously cleaned up her face and had redone her  makeup. The sun was shining on her pale hair, and she looked bright and  shiny and so beautiful I hardly wanted to look at her. But when my eyes  lowered, a low snarl came out of my throat of its own free will, my  muscles clenching tightly. The white button-down shirt was way too  small, the buttons barely closing over her full breasts, the lace of her  bra clearly visible through the stretched material, even from where I  was standing. The top four buttons weren't even closed at all, giving an  easy view of full, creamy cleavage. For a moment my vision dimmed the  way it sometimes did when I was being overly stimulated in some myriad  of ways.                       
       
           



       

"Did he just growl?" Eileen asked Fionn. My eyes remained on Lydia. This  was ridiculous. Why in the hell was she back out here? Hadn't she had  enough? And why the ever-loving feck was she dressed that way?

"I think he did," Fionn remarked from somewhere seemingly far away. "How  very primitive, like. Or it's the heartburn again. Ya wanna hear me  theory?"

"I do wanna hear your theory, as a matter of fact," Eileen said.

"I thought ya might. Me theory is that our friend here still loves the  girl, and it's bloody killin' him right now to see her hurtin'."

"Insightful, my wise friend. Fair play. Ya might just be right."

"I think so," Fionn said.

"For fuck's sake, enough is enough," I said hoarsely, heading straight  toward Lydia. She seemed to have seen me because she turned in the other  direction and made a fast beeline for the exact group of girls who were  having so much fun tormenting her. Why? What in the hell was she doing?