With ‘Lies and Weddings,’ Kevin Kwan Dives Back Into Ultrarich Drama
“Can they really?” Francis said, feeling sick to his stomach. All this time, he’d thought Augie was finally safe, that she had finally married money.
Prince Julius poured himself another glass of scotch. “This is why we are so relieved that Augusta accepted Maxxie. My boy is just so goddamn lucky to marry into the Gresham family! That’s one big worry off my mind. He’s your problem now, ho ho ho.”
The wedding banquet was the pièce de résistance of the nuptial weekend. Upon arriving at Bellaloha, the dinner guests followed the torch-lit path into the rain forest, where they came upon one long curving banquet table for three hundred that snaked playfully between towering trees and verdant bushes. Not content with the natural beauty of the flo a, Arabella had demanded that each tree be festooned with flowers, and hovering over the middle of the table was a floral sculpture canopy composed of thousands of orchids, dahlias, and Icelandic poppies. At the very center of the banquet was a gigantic banyan tree with thousands of ancient roots descending from the branches, and hundreds of flickering lanterns were entwined in the roots, casting a magical glow onto everyone. As the guests supped on Dover sole à la Augusta on the eighteenth-century Greshamsbury Sèvres that had not been used since Edward VII had come to stay when he was still the Prince of Wales (3), Jackie was by the side of the stage, in the midst of fitting a remote microphone onto Rufus’s jacket collar, when Arabella came rushing up.
“Rufus,are you giving the first toast?”Arabella excitedly inquired. “That’s the plan.”
“Very good. Now, will you be saying nice things about a certain somebody?”
“I plan to say very nice things about Augie and Maxxie, yes, after I humiliate them for a few rounds, of course.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Will you have something special to announce in your speech?”
“Something special?” Rufus looked confused.
“About a certain entente cordiale, perhaps?”
“Mother, English please. I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Oh come on, no need to be coy with me,” Arabella giggled. “I’m talking about your petit plaisir de l’après-midi? A little bird told me that you spent the better part of the day holed up in Solène de Courcy’s suite at the Mauna Lani.”
Rufus rolled his eyes. “Solène sprained her ankle and exposed her bleeding knee to water contaminated with flesh eating bacteria. Eden had her on so many antibiotics I had to make sure she didn’t have a bad reaction.”
“Is that what you were doing? Making sure she had no bad reaction?” Arabella sniggered gleefully.
“Precisely. And she spent an hour giving me advice on how to improve my art career—unsolicited, I might add.”
“How kind of her. She’s such a sensible girl. Now, you must repay the favor by saying something nice about Solène and her mother during your toast.”
“You want me to mention Solène and her mother during my toast to the bride and groom?”
“Why not? Haven’t the de Courcys been the highlight of your weekend?”
Rufus gaped at his mother. “Wait a minute. Have you been trying to set me up with Solène all this time?”
“I know it might be a little premature, but it would be so fun to give our audience a little preview of what’s coming next season.”
“Next season? Do you think we’re living in a television series? Let me make this very simple for you: Solène de Courcy is a very nice girl, but it’s never going to happen in a million years. She’s not my type.”
Arabella looked at her son in exasperation. “Not your type? What’s wrong with you? She’s one of the most beautiful women on the planet! She has an exclusive modeling contract with Chanel!”
“Mum, when will you realize that I don’t give a damn about any of that?”
“I don’t understand . . . Bea told me things were going perfectly!”
“How would Bea know what’s going on? I haven’t seen her for days.”
“I’m going to murder those silly girls! Bea’s too distracted by her photo shoots, and Eden has been an utter failure.”
“What does Eden have to do with any of this?”
“Bea and Eden are rooting for you to fall in love with Solène! They both adore her. Everyone adores her. Why can’t you?”
“Eden’s been part of your maniacal plans?”
“She was supposed to earn her keep, but it looks like she’s been far too distracted herself, sleeping with that Freddy guy.”
“Wait—what? Eden and Freddy are not sleeping together!”
“Of course they are. They’re having a torrid fling. Eden’s desperately been trying to catch Freddy since the moment he arrived on that ridiculous shark boat. And you don’t even know the half of it, that stupid girl has been so careless that she’s gotten herself—”
Rufus rushed off before she could finish.
At the other end of the banquet table, Nicolai Chalamet-Chaude (Wetherby/Dragon/Eton/Balliol) was in the midst of explaining to Eden how Hawaii had become quite the haven for billionaires (“You’ve got Larry in Lanai, Mark and Priscilla kicking it in Kauai, and Pierre over in Oahu”) (4) when Rufus came rushing up with an unmistakably urgent look. “Eden, may I have a word?”
“Of course. Baron, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Eden said politely.
Rufus grabbed her by the hand and led her down a pathway, cutting through a thicket of bushes until they found a quiet clearing in the forest.
A warm crimson glow filtered through the trees, making everything seem otherworldly.
“Everything okay?” Eden asked.
“Yes. Are you okay?”
“I am, now that you’ve rescued me from that man.”
“Good, good. I just need to know something . . .”
“Yes?”
“Are you sleeping with Freddy Farman-Farmihian?”
“What in the world would make you think that?”
“Er . . . I just . . . you’ve spent all afternoon with him.”
“And you spent all afternoon in Solène’s room, not that I’d ever ask what happened in there.”
“Nothing happened with Solène! Well, nothing I initiated anyway. She did lunge at me several times, but when I rebuffed her, she started ranting that I couldn’t get it up and was too intimidated by her success.”
“Solène lunged at you?”
“Like a raccoon on meth, but you know I’d never touch her even with a ten-foot pole.”
“What made you think I was sleeping with Freddy?”
“My mother told me.”
“Your mother?” Eden grimaced in disbelief, not comprehending how the countess could have come to that conclusion. “Either your mother’s deranged from all the stress or someone’s been spreading vicious gossip.”
“No, you’re right, Mummy’s deranged. But I was watching the two of you all weekend . . . dancing at the ball, laughing like old friends during our excursions . . . I’m not sure . . . I got worried.”
“Worried? Rufus, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I told you, Freddy’s a sweet soul underneath all that swagger.”
“So you do like him. Today when I saw how intimate you were with him down by the pool, I just—”
“Intimate?”
“You were caressing his hand . . .”
“I was comforting him. He was telling me about his mother, she died when he was twelve.”
Rufus suddenly felt very foolish. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I’ve gotten everything all wrong, haven’t I? I was sure he fancied you, and I thought that you were trying to make me jealous.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
