From London With Love

19 | wherefore are thou bromeo?

"Oh, no," Louise said, horrified. "Absolutely not."

Ophelia sighed. She was standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, dressed in a rather fetching brown cowl-neck dress. In her opinion, anyway. Louise looked like she thought the dress deserved to be strung up in Piccadilly Circus, covered in birdseed, and devoured by pigeons.

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Louise echoed, frowning. "It's brown."

"I like brown."

"You also liked flower crowns," Louise pointed out. "And those shoes that nurses wear. A lapse in judgement that I refuse to forgive you for."

She was hanging off Ophelia's bed, her dark hair brushing the floor. A glass of white wine was clutched in her right hand, and her phone in the left. Ophelia frowned, wriggling out of the dress and then pulling on a robe.

"Fine," she sighed. "What would you suggest, then?"

The question was particularly imperative, considering that the UCL charity ball started in less than an hour — and while Digby texted her to say that he was all for Ophelia going naked, she wasn't as sold on the idea. Louise tapped her chin.

"Not brown."

"Very helpful, Lou."

"I know!" Louise brightened. "Let's call the girls."

She punched a series of buttons. A moment later, Ella's face appeared, flushed and breathless. Her blonde curls were pulled up in a knot, and she appeared to be wearing some sort of black earmuffs. No, wait — headphones.

"Can this wait, Lou? I'm just at the studio."

"It's an emergency."

"Oh, god." Ella paled. "Is everyone okay? Did someone die?"

"It's worse." Louise's face was grim. "Ophelia's trying to wear a brown dress." She flopped on to her stomach. "In public, Ella!"

"Oh no," Sophia moaned. "Tell me you're joking."

Ophelia sighed as her cousin's face popped up on the screen. Sophia was dressed in a crisp white button-down, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. She scratched her cheek, leaving a smudge of mud under her left eye. Ophelia grinned.

"Rolling around in the hay again?"

"Oh, shut it, Fi."

"Maybe brown really is in season."

Sophia glared. "If you make one more joke about me becoming a farm girl, Ophelia, I swear to god—"

"Okay." Louise clapped her hands. "Focus, ladies." She hopped up from the bed, rifling through Ophelia's dresses. "What color are we thinking?"

Ella adjusted her headphones. "What's it for?"

"A charity ball."

"Hang on." Sophia's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to this ball with Andrew Hazelton-Scott, are you?"

Ophelia took up Louise's vacated spot. "Do you really need to say his full name each time? It's not like I know any other Andrews."

"Just answer the question."

"No." Ophelia pursed her lips. "I'm not. I'm going with Digby — my boyfriend. Remember him?" She took a sip of Louise's wine, and then immediately spat it out, coughing. "Crumbs, Lou. What is this?"

"Hmm?" Louise half-twisted around. "Oh, that." She waved her off. "I added some rum to my chardonnay."

"Some rum?"