Anya’s mother poked her in the back. “Go and greet your favourite cousin.”
“How can she be my favourite cousin when she’s barely one at all? She’s some sort of fifth cousin, twice removed; and claiming we’re related will make me look like the worst sort of encroaching mushroom.”
Lady Charlotte Fontenbras, granddaughter of the Duke of Pennine glanced their way, a fan flicking in front of her face as people crowded around her. Her expression bloomed from boredom to delight as she left her group and floated towards them.
“Cousin Anya, it’s so lovely to see you again. It’s been far too long.”
Anya blinked but remembered enough to curtsey. “I’m delighted to see you again, Lady Charlotte.”
Her mother looked smug.
Lady Charlotte took Anya’s arm. “Now, none of that, Cousin, relations such as us have no need to be formal.”
She leaned in a hissed in Anya’s ear. “Please tell me you’re as good at getting rid of pests as you were when we were twelve. Mr Smith-Smythe-Brown is proving troublesome.”
Anya caught her choke of laughter and whispered back. “That’s his name? Really?”
“Humphrey Fortescue Portsmouth Smith-Smythe-Brown.” Lady Charlotte bit back a giggle. “He’s awful but has pots of money and will spend it on absolutely anything, so he gets invited everywhere.”
The DNA of Stories 