Page 42 of An American in London

“Absolutely,” he says.

I laugh because he’s clearly so uncomfortable, and it has nothing to do with me being his fake fiancée. Even if I was the love of his life, the woman he was going to marry, he’d be just as uncomfortable. It’s just who he is.

The duchess laughs as well. “I know how that feels,” she says, nodding to Ben’s rigid demeanor. “I can count the number of times George has told me he loves me on one hand. It’s the British stiff upper lip you’ll have to get used to.”

“I don’t see the need to remind you,” the duke says. “You’re an intelligent woman. It’s not likely you’re going to forget. Excuse me.” He moves away to greet another couple who have appeared in the doorway. I never thought to ask how many people were coming this weekend. So far it’s six couples and the duke and duchess.

I expect the duchess to make her excuses too, but she just shakes her head in a way that says she loves her husband but can find him completely hopeless. “Do you have a date in mind for the wedding?”

“We’re mid-discussions. Ben would have us elope tomorrow.” I shrug. “It’s not like I want something really huge, but I think it would be nice for our friends and family to share the day with us.”

“Are your parents excited?” she asks.

“Nothing much excites my dad. As long as I’m happy. My mom died when I was young, so—” I get a sudden and unexpected lump in my throat, which silences me for a couple of seconds.

The duchess puts her hand over mine and mouths,I’m sorry.

I’m used to talking about my mom and it rarely gets me emotional when I mention her in passing, but she would be excited for me if Ben and I were getting married. No doubt, she’d be making plans for her and Dad to move to England for at least part of the year, and she’d be helping me with preparations. One day, when it finally happens for me, I’m going to find it tough without her. Dad’s input alone isn’t going to cut it.

“As long as we don’t wait too long,” Ben says, rescuing me from having to form a sentence. The duke rejoins us as Ben says, “I don’t see the point in protracted engagements. We know we’re getting married, so let’s get on with it.”

The duke gives a firm nod of his head. “My thoughts exactly.”

I take a steadying breath and smile. “Your home is quite lovely,” I say, keen to steer the conversation away from our relationship. “Has it been in the family long?”

“Since 1679,” the duke replies. “The year construction was completed. The seventh Duke of Brandon commissioned it, and it’s been in the family ever since.”

“That’s wonderful,” I reply. “I love the idea of creating and maintaining history that can be passed down through the generations.”

“Yes, the title shall pass to my cousin or his son,” the duke says in a clipped tone. “Do you have a big family?”

“Not yet,” I say. “I’ve always wanted lots of children, though. Ben agrees.”

“Define‘lots of,’” he growls, and I laugh because it’s exactly how I’d expect him to react if we were actually engaged and talking about children. The duchess laughs, too, and I like her for it. I don’t really know her, and she’s British aristocracy, but somehow I feel like we have lots in common in the way we react to the grumpy men in our lives.

“But seriously,” I say, “one would be a blessing. If I could convince him to have three or four, that would be even better.”

“Let’s just take it day by day,” Ben says, gazing at me like he thinks I’m the most wonderful woman he’s ever seen. He’s such a great actor. “We both agree we’re going to try once we’re married.”

“Sounds like we need to get you married as soon as possible,” the duchess says.

She’s so sweet and kind, I feel a little bad for lying to her. But she’ll never know. Engagements are broken all the time. I’ve got evidence of that.

We talk a little more about her wedding to the duke and about how her niece is newly engaged. The duchess is charming, and I can’t imagine anyone meeting her not falling a little bit in love.

From out of nowhere a gong sounds. No one says anything, but people start filing inside through a different door from the one we came out of, straight into an elaborately set dining room. I try not to come across too awed, but I can’t not notice the gold leaf on the ceiling and the elaborate candelabras on the long table set with a crisp white tablecloth. It looks like we’re in a movie. I wish Daniel De Luca had more of a back catalog in costume drama. I feel a binge coming on when I return to London.

I find myself sitting opposite the duchess, with Ben to my left and Nick to my right. Ben’s opposite the duke.

“You’re going to settle in England?” The duke looks between Ben and me.

Panic slithers down my spine. Somehow, this issue didn’t make it onto our questionnaires, despite it being a major lifestyle choice. Just about now, I’m thinking we’re both idiots for overlooking such an obvious issue.

“Yes,” I say. “It’s much easier to move my career than Ben’s. And anyway, ever since I first touched down in this country, it’s kind of felt like home.”

It’s not a lie. I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve had a thing for British movie stars since forever, or because I’ve watched every Daniel De Luca film a thousand times over, but this country feels a bit like my home away from home. I feel a kinship I never expected.

“I love all the history, but more than that, Ben’s here. And I would follow him anywhere.”

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