The ladies are still at Flopperton Gardens, except for Caprice who skedaddled under the cover of darkness. A truce is called between the Brits and the ‘muricans when it is decided that Caprice must be hormonal. Juliet is the only “lady” who won’t sign the treaty. Instead, she stands on her principles, which are like really uncomfortable shoes for the soul.

Annabelle drives to the stables to practice her horsing. It’s three weeks until her big race where her horse, Mr. Fickle, will jump over obstacles while Annabelle wears a helmet with a pom-pom on top. She rides like it’s her first time on horseback, barely getting the horse to a cantor before Mr. Fickle slows down to a slow, easy sashay. He lets out a whinny as if to say, “With all of the Real Housewives franchises, this is the best you could do? Seriously?”

The ladies gather for breakfast at a little roadside diner called The Acorn Inn. Marissa runs out of the restaurant because she empathizes too much, and something about Juliet being not a nice person. “That hurts me that it hurts you, that it was not my intention to sunny side up your opinion in the moment.” Then, Juliet rushes out in a whirlwind of f-bombs. And it’s only breakfast!

Noelle finally gets a rental apartment with her still-married boyfriend, Scot. That’s a rather ordinary sofa, Noelle. Ikea? Marissa’s house, however, is lovely. She is all dolled up in enviable green strappy patent leather sandals so that she can take an oath of citizenry to Queen Elizabeth II and everybody’s favorite ginger, Prince Harry. Now she can say things like, “Maintaining the Royal Family costs just one pound per household so it’s totally worth it,” and, “Peas are way better when they’re mushy, y’al!” Noelle’s husband gets her a pair of diamond and pink earrings that are so not my style to congratulate her on becoming a shell of her former self. The box says “Faberge,” but the earrings say, “discount bin at Harrods.”

Later that week, Noelle hosts a charity event for Chasing Zero in a dress that looks like it was pilfered from Mariah Carey’s closet. Caprice will be there and has heard what Caroline and Juliet said about her, and… how did Caroline get roped into this mess? Oh what? Does Caroline have a wrist tattoo? I bet it says, “These Veins Run Cold.” Juliet (in unflattering canary yellow) and Marissa (in a skirt that used to be the bottom half of an ostrich) hug it out before entering the party… so that drama fizzled like a white wine spritzer.

The word of the day is “Cavalli.” Three of the women appear to be contractually obligated to shop at Cavalli for clothes that will turn up on a sale rack in Century 21 in less than a year. It becomes a thing when Caroline learns that Caprice asked Noelle and Marissa to throw her a baby shower when Caprice had already asked Caroline to throw her one, and why doesn’t Caprice have real friends or, like, family, who want to celebrate the birth of her child?

Oh, poor Mr. Fickle. You must run, and run fast. And then, you must jump high. And you must do all of this with an inexperienced rider on your back. And you didn’t mean to toss Annabelle to the ground like yesterday’s news, but she just would not shut up. I’m a little unclear on why Annabelle is wearing a hospital gown in her own home, and who propped her up on an old Victorian and totally uncomfortable fainting couch. She has a broken pelvis and cannot wash or go to the loo, and… TMI, Annabelle!

Next week, Caprice has too many baby showers and Annabelle seems to have made a full and swift recovery.

Reprinted from HauteTalk.com

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