“It really does,” Oliver murmurs, gazing at me with a smitten expression that makes me want to kick him beneath the table.
Pretending to be a couple to get the press to leave us alone is one thing; faking some kind of deep, romantic attachment is another.
The first feels like an acceptable falsehood; the second feels…wrong. And the superstitious part of me is pretty sure faking truelove is a good way to ensure the universe never gives you a shot at the real thing.
And I want the real thing someday.
I want it more than I realized before last night, when a certain charming Brit reminded me how good it can feel to share a night out with someone who makes you laugh and think and come your brains out.
Making a mental note to have another boundaries talk with Olly—and to stop thinking about coming my brains out while seated inches from his mother—I turn my attention to eating the freshly delivered salad.
Thankfully, it’s a finely chopped salad, and I’m able to chew and fully swallow each small bite in between small talk.
We discuss mine and Oliver’s plans for the holidays—merrymaking and celebrating in between my business obligations. Vivian insists I attend the family’s annual New Year’s Eve party, offering a formal invitation just in case Oliver hasn’t already, and Lady Thornfield-Rowe delights the table at large with a story about last year’s celebration. The under forty set decided to “chilly dip” before midnight, and theover fortyset stole their towels from the shore as a prank.
“They all came dashing into the great hall shivering and cursing, with icicles hanging off their noses. Best party I’ve been to in ages,” Agnes finishes, as the other ladies, whose names I can’t remember, chuckle behind their hands. “Can’t wait to see what trouble you get up to this year, Oliver.”
“Me? Trouble? I would never.” Oliver casts a faux innocent look around the table before turning to me with a wink. “Isn’t that right, Emily?”
Realizing what he’s up to, I play along, rolling my eyes as I mutter, “Of course not, darling. You’re as pure as the driven snow. We both are, really. A very proper pair.”
“Very demure,” Oliver adds.
“And discreet,” I supply.
By the time we’re done with our routine, the entire table is tittering and we’ve obviously won over Agnes, who, when I glance her way, offers an approving nod. Clearly, she’s the type of woman who believes in looking the elephant in the room in the eye and giving it a cheeky wink.
As the lights dim and the first speaker mounts the stage, Oliver captures my hand, giving it a tight squeeze. I squeeze his back, the first genuine smile of the afternoon curving my lips.
So far, we’re navigating our first time out and about as a recently disgraced couple pretty darned well, if I do say so myself!
Now, all that’s left is to sit politely during the ceremonies, tuck into dessert, and make a graceful exit.
Surely, we can manage that.
Grateful that the hardest part is over, I relax into my chair, nibbling on finger sandwiches as the awards are handed out.
The first honoree runs a program teaching sustainable farming to at-risk youth. The second has spent thirty years protecting wetlands from development. And the third runs a “retirement home” for elderly dogs. The small, gray-haired woman practically weeps with gratitude as she thanks the committee for the honor and the audience for their generous donations.
By the time they announce Viscount Edward Featherswallow, I’m genuinely moved.
But then, I’m a sucker for anything to do with helping animals, especially dogs. They really are the best of us. I look forward to working less in the future for many reasons, but a big one is finally having time to spoil a puppy of my very own.
Oliver’s brother looks like an older, slightly thinner, more serious version of Oliver. Same sharp cheekbones, samedevastating jaw, but where Oliver has mischief in his eyes, Edward has gravitas.
He takes the stage with such quiet confidence, even the gossipy old ladies in the back stop whispering to pay attention.
“Failure is never an easy thing to admit to, but not long ago, the Swallow House Fishery was failing,” Edward begins without preamble. “It had been for years. But not because the good people who worked there weren’t giving it their all. Sadly, our previous manager refused to see that new farming methods were needed to meet the moment, and I was too distracted with other projects to realize how dire the situation was until it was nearly too late. When I took the reins five years ago, almost everyone I consulted said it would be best to shut it down.”
He pauses, scanning the room, his gaze softening as it lands on his mother, who’s beaming up at him with love and pride.
“But my mother and father reminded me that the fishery employed forty-three people,” Edward continues. “Families who’d worked those waters for generations, and who deserved better from us. So instead of shutting down, we innovated.”
Edward briefly explains how they converted to “wild-ish raised” fishing—a hybrid model that protects wild populations while maintaining jobs. How they eliminated hormones and chemicals to make their harvests more attractive to buyers, and how, in time, employment at the fishery actually increased.
“But none of that would have been possible without my parents’ care for our community, or my brother’s help and inspiration,” Edward says.
I feel Oliver tense beside me as he continues, “Oliver, a gifted architect, designed our new processing facilities to be carbon neutral. But more than that, growing up, Olly was the kind of boy an older brother could be proud of. He made me think and question the status quo, and once stayed up all night helping clean a flock of oil-damaged birds that had washed up by ourhome. Even though he was only ten years old at the time.” His voice roughens slightly as he adds, “We both cried when all but two of them passed away, but Olly was the one with fire in his eyes when he said we had to make things better when we were grown. He made me promise I would never stop fighting to fix all the broken things in the world, and I’m so glad he did. Everything I’ve become, all the good I’ve done, has grown from that night, and that moment of clarity.” He lifts his award into the air above the podium. “So, I must insist on sharing this lovely medal with my parents and Oliver, incredible people who I’m so honored to call family.”
