Page 43 of An American in London

That’s how it’s supposed to be when you’re in love, right? Jed once mentioned the possibility of moving to Iowa a couple of years ago. His parents are there, along with his older brother and his wife. Even though he was trying to be funny at the time, I remember feeling like he’d sucker-punched me with the idea. Jed and I were inextricably linked with New York—at least, I thought we were. I couldn’t picture us anywhere but the city where we’d spent our twenties together. He never brought it up again, and I’d forgotten about it until he ended things.

“What work do you do?” the duke asks.

“At a bank,” I say. “Since college. It was the first job I got. My father encouraged me to take it.” Actually, my dad just wanted me to be happy with whatever career choice I made. Jed pushed for me to take on a role at the bank.

The duke stops chewing, and I feel like I’ve dropped a bomb. “You follow a lot of your father’s advice?”

My heart is spluttering. Did I mess everything up? My father would say, when in doubt, tell the truth. “Yes. He’s such a brilliant and kind man and ... He gives the best advice.”

The duke nods and resumes chewing. I hold my breath as he swallows and then replies, “I was always the same with my father. I alwayswent to him with my struggles. I wanted to be just like him.” I allow myself to exhale. However impossible it might seem, the duke and I seem to have something in common. “When he passed the estate down to me, I could only imagine being as successful as he was.”

The duchess reaches over and presses her hand over her husband’s. “You’ve been the most successful Duke of Brandon by far. Your father would be proud.”

The duke nods, his expression solemn. “And that’s all any of us want: for our parents to be proud of us.”

The tablecloth pulls beside me, and I move my glass before it topples over. I look down and realize Ben is gripping the edge of the linen. I glance up at him, and his expression is the same as ever, totally belying the tension in his body. I slide my hand onto his thigh, and he clasps it as if he’d been waiting for it. My heart clenches.

The duke clears his throat. “Nick here tells me you still want to buy my hotels.” I hold my breath, desperate to know how Ben is going to react. But the duchess lowers her voice to talk to just me, and I give her my full attention. I keep my hand on Ben’s thigh.

“Have you ever seen the filmA Duchess for a Duke?” she asks.

I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face at her mention of the Daniel De Luca movie. “One of my favorites,” I confess in the same almost-whisper.

“I’m so pleased to hear that.” Her eyes seem to dance like she’s about to reveal a secret. “Much of it was filmed here.”

My lungs stop functioning and I have to consciously breathe. “Here?” I lean closer to her, point my finger in the air and circle it.

“The entire house and gardens. I convinced George to go to the Chelsea house for three weeks while I stayed here during filming. He wasn’t happy about it, but a friend of a friend is a producer, and she thought Fairfield House would be the perfect location for the duke’s country residence in the film.”

“It was—is—perfect,” I reply. “So beautiful.” I shake my head. “I can’t believe the coincidence, but Ben and I met when I was visitingthe spot in Green Park where Daniel and Julia Alice meet for the very first time. In fact, I mistook him for Daniel and made a complete fool out of myself.”

She laughs. “Yes, he does look rather like him. I thought that when we met this afternoon. It gave me flashbacks to when they were here filming.”

“What are you two talking about so conspiratorially over there?” the duke asks.

“Oh, nothing,” the duchess says, her eyes twinkling.

“I bet you’re talking about that stupid film,” he huffs.

I can’t help but laugh. The duke isn’t quite as grumpy as Ben, but he’s not far off.

“We’re having more fun than you lot over there, talking about hotels,” the duchess says.

The duke grumbles under his breath but goes back to his conversation with Ben.

“Was filming very disruptive?” I ask. How exciting to have movie stars wandering about your house.

“The duke would have thought so, but I enjoyed it. There were certain rooms they weren’t allowed into—our bedroom, George’s study, the afternoon parlor, the morning room.”

I scan the room around me, thinking back to the movie. I haven’t seen it for a while, but I don’t remember this room as a setting.

“Your bedroom is the room where the duke and duchess first kiss,” the duchess says.

I sit back in my chair. The excitement is almost overwhelming. I wish my mom were here—she would freakingloveto hear this. “The duck-egg-blue silk walls. Of course. I should have remembered. That scene was so beautiful.”

“So romantic.”

“Themostromantic. Up until that scene, I wasn’t certain he would ever make his move. I mean, all those brooding looks! I suspected heloved her, but that scene ...” I sigh, remembering how he spluttered over his declaration of love.

---