there was a large noisy group taking up the entire terrace and they didn’t seem in much hurry to leave.
Bettina fumed as she glared at the tourists happily savoring their lunch in the sun
“But the terrace is your prime spot! Why on earth did you let those tourist stake up all that space?”
“Julie, honey, what’s the dealio? I’ve waited more than fifteen minutes for my table!”
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“Well, that tourist in the red fishing cap is the Duke of Glencora. His party just boated over from Windermere – that’s his Royal Huisman you see moored off the coast. Isn’t it the most handsome sailboat you’ve ever seen?”
“Sorry, Bettina, it’s been one of those days. The party of twelve on the terrace showed up first just before you did,”
“I’m not impressed by big boats,”
Bettina huffed, although secretly she was rather impressed by people with big title.
From the kitchen window, she surveyed the party assembled on the terrace with new eyes.
These aristo British types were such a strange breed.
“I assume that’s the duke’s security detail? They couldn’t be more obvious! Don’t they know that we’re all billionaires here on Briland, and this isn’t how we roll?”
It was only then that Bettina noticed three tan, well-built men in fitted white T-shirts and black Kevlar pants sitting at the adjacent table.
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