I nod, trying my best to keep my expression neutral. “He’s the heir to an earldom, like
my father.”
“Lucky Dick,” Cannon says just before he starts chuckling.
“That’s what his family called him,” I say, refusing to laugh with him.
I’m still irritated that he’s not paying attention to me. Does that make me seem vain? Well, perhaps I am, especially when all I can do is stare at him.
Why isn’t he entranced with me?
“What? They called him a lucky dick? Are you serious?” Cannon’s laughter grows.
“No, no. They called him Dickie. That’s his nickname,” I explain, my lips curling into a smile despite my annoyance.
“Dickie? Oh shit, that’s even worse.” His laughter dies, his expression somber as he considers me. “You actually went out with a guy you called Dickie? To his face?”
“I didn’t call him Dickie, his family did. I called him Richard.” I take a sip of my water, wondering at our roundabout conversations. We tend to veer off track easily. Is it because we’re from two different countries? Do we not have common interests? Opposites attract and all that, but are we too opposite?
“Richard, Dick, Dickie, it’s all the same to me.” Cannon closes his menu and sets it on the table in front of him. “Let me guess. He was a total jerk.”
“Not really,” I say with a little shrug. “More like he was…”
“Arrogant.”
“No.”
“A womanizer.”
I make a face. I can’t imagine Richard dating loads of women at the same time. “Not at all.”
“A real smug bastard,” Cannon suggests eagerly, like he wants Richard to be a terrible, awful human being.
“Not even close. He was just.” Another shrug as my mind scrambles for the most accurate thing to say. “Very…boring.”
“Oh.” Cannon actually looks disappointed. “I thought with a name like that, and him being an earldom or whatever, he’d be a snobby prick.”
I don’t bother correcting Cannon in his use of earldom. I don’t even flinch at his use of the words snobby prick. Instead, I think back on those past three dates with Richard.
His wispy light brown hair that was fast receding even though he wasn’t quite thirty. His brown eyes and thin, hard mouth. The way he always spoke of his mother, like she ran his life as she ran her house. He worked in finance and it was apparent from the start how much he hated his job. Was merely waiting for his father to pass so he could take over the title. He had plans on opening the family estate to the public so they could earn money, and his mother was aghast at the mere suggestion.
He wasn’t looking for the love of his life or the woman of his dreams. He was merely looking for a countess.
“He was snobbish,” I concede. “But I wouldn’t call him a…”
“Prick?” Cannon finishes for me.
“Right.” I’m not used to saying such things in front of a man. Especially a man I’m trying to impress. Flirt with.
Of course, this is a man who I will most likely never see again after tonight, so I can be whoever I want to be if I really want to.
The idea flits into my head, flashing bright like one of those giant signs in Piccadilly Circus.
You can be whoever you want to be.
Our server magically appears, an older gentleman with graying temples and a wide smile. “Good evening. Can I start you out with something to drink?”
“Do you have champagne?” I ask.