Ivyâs eyes sparkled, but Balfour quickly added, âBut youâre only allowed to drink at home, nowhere else, okay?â
âWhy not? This stuff is sweet, even better than soda,â Ivy said, taking a big gulp and then sipping it slowly as if she couldnât bear to part with the taste.
âYou might think itâs weak, but too much will get you buzzed, especially for a lightweight like you.â
Ivy was downing her drink as if it were lemonade, and in no time, her glass was empty.
She didnât want to weave through the crowd for a second round, so she just gazed longingly at Balfourâs burgundy-colored wine, which looked equally tantalizing.
âWhat flavor is yours? Is it sweet?â
âNot very, but it has a fruity bouquet. Do you want to try it?â
Ivyâs gaze followed the wine glass in Balfourâs hand, and she nodded unconsciously.
âYes, please.â
âGive me a kiss, and Iâll let you have a sip,â Balfour joked, but to his surprise, Ivy closed the distance in two steps and pressed her lips firmly to his with a soft âmwah.â
Balfour froze for a second, then chuckled when he saw Ivy still eyeing his red wine, unwilling to look away.
âI canât believe youâre getting tipsy over a glass of wine.â
âI am not tipsy!â Ivyâs slender eyebrows knitted together. âIâm perfectly fine. The drinkâs delightful, and I want more.â
âAlright, alright, youâre not tipsy, so it must be me talking drunk. Still want a sip from my glass?â
Ivy nodded obediently.
Balfour brought the glass to her lips. âJust a sip, okay?â
He dared not give her more, knowing her tolerance was about one glass deep.
After allowing her a sip, he pulled back the glass.
âEw, this one isnât good. Itâs kind of bitter.â
Ivy stuck out her tongue as if truly offended by the taste. She preferred the sweet one.
The finest wines arenât just about sweetness; the best have a complexity where the initial bitterness gives way to a lingering fruitiness, much like the art of tasting fine tea.
First, you get the interplay of wine and fruit on the palate, bitter yet not astringent, and after a few moments, a sweet fruitiness emerges.
Thatâs the mark of an excellent red wine.
But Ivy didnât appreciate these nuances.
As they chatted and tasted wine in a quiet corner, a rosy flush appeared on Ivyâs cheeks, a clear sign she was feeling the effects of the alcohol.
All the while, Mara watched them with a tight grip on her own glass. âThat woman has no shame, flirting with Balfour in front of everyone. Doesnât she feel embarrassed?â
How could the Howards, known for their strict family values, tolerate such behavior in their midst?
Mara took a few deep breaths to calm herself before approaching Alyssa, letting out an inadvertent loud exclamation.
When Alyssa turned to look at her, Mara covered her eyes with a coy gesture.
Alyssa had never been fond of Mara and, seeing her contrived act, didnât intend to take any notice of her.