I bite my bottom lip to try and hide my excitement. He’s constantly telling me little facts of history, knowing I love it.
“It once belonged to the Earl of Spencer,” he adds.
My eyes widen. “Really? Lady Diana was the daughter of the eighth Earl of Spencer.” He smiles softly. “That’s right. Her brother is the ninth.” “Wow,” I whisper. People are everywhere inside. The men are in their dinner suits, while the women are dressed up to the nines. Waiters are carefully walking around with trays of champagne.
“What is this function for again?” I ask.
“It’s a fundraiser for a mental health program for reformed criminals.”
“Oh.” A waiter walks past with a tray and Julian takes two, passing one to me. “Thank you.” I smile.
He clinks our glasses.
“Do you come to all these things?” I ask.
“We
