Page 47 of An American in London

“It’s no problem,” Ben replies. I’m sure he’s disappointed not to be seeing the duke this morning, but he doesn’t let it show. “I also understand that Nick’s caught up in a crisis, and I believe he’s drafted Elizabeth to help.”

Hunting with the duke would have been great for Ben, because he would have had the duke in a guaranteed good mood. By all accounts, the man loves to hunt. On the other hand, I’m delighted by the changein plans. Shooting wasn’t open to first-timers, so we would have been separated—leaving more opportunity for slipups in our cover story.

“I think most people are going into the village to look around,” the duchess says. “It’s terribly pretty. We could join them or ... I thought I could give you a tour of where they filmedA Duchess for a Duke.” She laughs. “It’s completely self-indulgent. I love to relive it, and George isn’t interested at all. It’s rare I find a kindred spirit.”

Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better. “That would be great,” I say. “You’re happy to do our Daniel De Luca tour of the house and grounds, aren’t you?” I say to Ben, slipping my hand into his. I savor the increasingly familiar strength and warmth that comes with the contact, alongside the buzz I feel whenever we touch.

Ben narrows his eyes. “Define happy.”

I laugh and the corner of Ben’s mouth lifts, which is pretty much a full-on guffaw in Ben language.

When I glance back at the duchess, she’s smiling, like we’re a couple of kids amusing her.

“You don’t have to join us, Ben,” she says. “Feel free to make use of the library or go into the village.”

“He wouldn’t miss it,” I say before Ben can pick something else. Much safer to have him by my side.

“Excellent,” the duchess says. “First stop, the orchard.”

“Oh, yes, where he stumbles across her after she’s run out on their kiss.” I don’t squeal, but it’s not because I don’t want to.

The duchess smiles as she leads us out of the front door. “Have you seen the film?” she asks Ben.

“I confess I haven’t, but I shall make sure I do when I get back to London.” He squeezes my hand. It’s unnecessary but a nice touch. Something engaged couples do, right? I can’t remember the last time Jed and I held hands. We were always getting in and out of cabs, walking through crowded bars and restaurants ... but I can’t remember him ever grabbing my hand to ensure we wouldn’t be separated.

“It’s quite charming, really,” she says. “The duke wasn’t keen when I told him I wanted to let them film, but he agrees the house and grounds look their best on film.”

“Itdoeslook incredible in the movie,” I say. “But having had the honor of visiting, I prefer it in real life. It’s more of a home than I could have possibly expected.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say,” the duchess replies, her eyes kind of ... twinkling.

We cross the huge gravel driveway and head west toward some trees. “We’ll come back through the walled garden,” she says, gesturing to her right.

“Oh, yes! The walled garden where she retraced the steps of the dance they had together. That’s one of my favorites. It’s so lovely.” I tug on Ben’s hand, half expecting him to share in my excitement. Of course, he’s stoic as always.

“Until he finds her there, reliving their moment together,” the duchess continues. “I always shout at the screen and tell him to walk in the other direction. It’s so embarrassing for her.”

“Yes, it’s humiliating,” I reply. “But I don’t think things between them would have progressed if he hadn’t found her. It was clear she liked him, and I don’t think he would have let himself believe it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.”

“You’re right,” the duchess says. “It gives him confirmation that she’s developed real feelings for him.”

“I wonder if that happened in real life ever,” I say. “Marriages were arranged for financial reasons, right?” I’ve watched my fair share of Jane Austen adaptations. I know the score.

“Absolutely,” the duchess says. “Even back when George and I married, many of my friends were paired off to whoever was the best strategic match, rather than who they were in love with.”

“That’s so sad,” I reply.

“It is, but some of them definitely fell in love with their husbandsafterthey were married. I think that’s just as romantic.” The duchessis leading the way, and I can see the orchard more clearly behind her. Wizened trunks poke from the long grass, and lush leaves create a canopy of green umbrellas studded with red fruits.

“If not more so,” I say. “Imagine thinking you were going to have to spend the rest of your life alone, even though you were married, and then it turns out your soulmate is right by your side all along.”

“You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?” Ben says under his breath, while the duchess deals with a message on her phone.

“Do you think?” I ask. It’s not how I would describe myself. My mom was the romantic in the family.

“I do. Maybe you’ve buried it in a layer you don’t want to show anyone,” he says, and I know it’s a pointed echo of my words from last night.

“I’m an open book,” I say.

---