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him as His Royal Highness -- heading off to a bar outside Edinburgh. If Jamie was going to be there, then probably Edward would be, too. She hurried to her room to change, suddenly keen on the idea of the bar.
    She changed out of her uncomfortable cocktail dress and into jeans and a ribbed sweater. Amanda, by contrast, dressed to ensure she would attract maximum attention. She put on a clingy, red microfiber halter dress. Her only concession to modesty was the sheer black bolero she threw on over the dress. Even that feeble attempt at propriety was overbalanced by the black thigh-high boots with four-inch heels. She was stunning. In a high-class hooker kind of way. There was no denying that Amanda knew her stuff if the way Phillip's eyes glazed over at the sight of her was any indication.
    Phillip, like Carrie, had dressed for comfort. He wore jeans and a black button-up. His collar was open and his sleeves were rolled up to expose muscular forearms that shouldn't belong to a man who worked at a desk all day. Phillip was all common sense and practicality while Amanda was all flash and frenzy. Carrie hadn't been surprised that some wealthy British tycoon had fallen for Amanda, but she had been surprised that the man in question was so sensible.
    Amanda had fallen in love with London when their father, a professor of English literature, had taken them there on a family vacation during high school. In college, Amanda had done a semester abroad in London. After graduation, she landed a job at a museum of Georgian-era fashions. When a similar museum in Bath was closing, Amanda applied to the Rhys-Cooper Foundation for a grant to purchase the Bath museum's collection. Phillip was used to getting grant applications from hospitals, medical research facilities, green initiative nonprofits, and other charities. He said he had to meet the woman who had the audacity to ask for money to buy some old gowns and hats bedecked with peacock feathers. If there was one thing Amanda had never lacked, it was audacity, and her brash charm had clearly won him over. He'd been instantly smitten. Still was, if the way he looked at her as she scooted close to him in his Mini Cooper was any indication.
    Carrie hoped Amanda appreciated just what she was getting in Phillip, and she hoped Phillip knew what he was in for by marrying Amanda. It's not my problem, she reminded herself for the hundredth time as she scrunched herself up against the car door, giving Amanda more room to put her legs on display. Oh well, at least Carrie was the smart one. As consolation prizes went, it would have to do. Edward hadn't seemed to mind.
    Inside the bar, Carrie squinted against the assault of blackness and flashing lights that reigned in every bar she'd ever been in. Really, she'd hoped for something more original from her first experience in a European bar. Even the people looked the same. Men sporting varying styles of facial hair, and women wearing more eyeliner than clothing. It wasn't an establishment that was likely to be frequented by the upper crust of Britain's high society. Edward, with his air of British propriety, seemed above a common pub. Jamie--she could imagine him in a bar -- for all that he would someday be the king of England--but not Edward. Edward seemed like he would be more at home at a polo match. She was about to regret her decision to come when she felt someone close behind her, someone whose breath tickled the back of her neck as he spoke.
    "The Spanx, I suspect, are a problem no longer?"
    Her pulse went wild at the sound of that voice. She turned, hoping her longing for him didn't show on her face. One glimpse of him, and she knew she'd lost that battle. He looked amazing. He wore the same suit he'd had on earlier, sans the jacket. His tie was loosened, and the top button of his shirt was open.
    "I never thought to see you here," she said, leaving out how much she had hoped for that very thing.
    He nodded to where Jamie was at the bar talking