𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛

t w o

Loud music pounds against my ears. Conversations are buzzing around me as I stand in a circle of strangers, attempting to make friends. I have an ale in my right hand, my left in my jeans pocket.

"How's your first day been?" asks a girl named Gwen. She is clearly Irish. Her accent is stronger than the alcohol I'm drinking.

"Ehh, it's been better than I thought it would be," I reply, shrugging my shoulders and sipping my drink.

"At least the guys are hot," she jokes. I laugh and nod in agreement. She wiggles her eyebrows, laughing along with me. 

I like this girl, I think. She's got a good sense of humor.

As we have more small talk, we get interrupted by a group of guys in the corner hollering to each other. They are pushing each other in their seats and spilling their beers.

"I thought boys were supposed to be much more mature at this age," Gwen states, a disapproving look on her face. I chuckle, staring at the group.

"Quite honestly, I don't think they ever mature."

Gwen lets out a loud laugh, causing me to laugh as well. I'm having such a good time I almost miss Miles walking in. Almost.

He has a backpack on and looks to just be stopping by. He grabs a beer from the bartender and then heads over to a group of girls who are standing a couple feet from me. His gaze meets mine and he gives me a charming smile, his eyes lighting up a little.

They light up more when he sees Lauren, though. She is standing on the other side of the pub past me.

A little disappointed, I excuse myself and head back to the bar for another drink. If I'm forced to be in the same room as him I might as well be drunk.

After the bartender hands me my mug, I pull out my wallet but my hand is stopped by a much stronger hand.

I look up to see a very handsome man smirking down at me. His bright blue eyes stare at me through sandy brown hair. His smile is filled with amusement as I shove my wallet back in my jeans pocket.

"I've got it, I'm getting another anyway," he offers, nodding to the man behind the counter.

I raise an eyebrow, suspicious of what his intentions are. He seems like a boy who gets into trouble, and lots of it.

"Well that's very kind of you," I thank him, grabbing the cup.

He turns to me, chuckling a little. "American, are we?" He asks. He shoves one hand into his khaki pants pocket and grabs his beer with the other.

"Wow, insightful," I answer sarcastically.

He laughs, his eyes lighting up in amusement. He looks wealthy from head to toe, but what gives it away is the Westminster ring on his left pinky.

"The name's Harry. Harry Villiers."

"Villiers? As in Diana Villiers?"

He seems shocked I know his mothers name. He shifts his posture, standing upright. The confusion on his face is obvious.

"How do you know my mother?"

"I'm Winifred. Scarborough? Our mothers run the woman's society at the club in London. I've known Diana since I was six years old," I explain.

"Your Penelope's daughter. The one who lives in America. What a small world we live in," he scoffs, dumbfounded.

"You have no clue," I chuckle.

I outstretch my hand and he takes it but instead of shaking it, he bends down and kisses it lightly lingering for a second longer than necessary. My cheeks light up red as they become hot from me blushing.

"Come, the boys will want to meet you."

I try to argue, saying that I have to get back to Gwen. But he simply ignores it and pulls me through the crowd of people. I roll my eyes in a playful way and allow him to drag me along till we reach his table. It's the same one where the boys were causing a ruckus.

"Boys this is Winifred Scarborough. Winifred this is Dimitri, Guy, Toby, Ed, George, Hugo and Leighton," Harry introduces us. I do a little wave and sit down in a seat Harry pulled up.

"Please, call me Winnie," I demand, giving them my best smile.

"A Scarborough, huh? Your older brother dropped out of Oxford, didn't he?" Dimitri asks but says it like a statement.

"Yes, something about how travel was his passion? I'm not too sure, honestly. We haven't spoken much recently," I shrug, uncomfortable by the question.

In the short amount of time I've been here I've realized how impactful my brothers presence was among the Westminster boys. Somehow every single one of them knew him. And talking about my brother just brings up the bad memories from the break. Him telling my parents he was leaving Oxford, them yelling their disappointments at him. It was horrible.

"So boys, are you always loud? Or are you just drunk off your asses right now?"

I raise an eyebrow, challenging them. Harry lets out a low chuckle. The others squirm in their seats, taking sips of their beers or smoking their cigars.

"Can't it be both?" Harry speaks up.

I turn to him, holding up my beer so we can cheers.

"It most definitely can."