Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“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.”
“It does look 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 husbands after they were married. I think that’s just as romantic.” The duchess is 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.
“We all have layers, Tuesday.”
My heart booms in my chest as he says my name. I don’t know why, but hearing it from him feels like a revelation every time.
“You think I have secret layers?” I ask.
“Maybe. Or maybe they’ve been buried awhile so you’ve . . . forgotten them.”
He looks through me, right into my soul, and I entertain the notion that he’s right. Maybe I’ve suppressed a romantic side of myself—the side I got from my mom. After she died, I wanted so desperately to move on from the pain of losing her, I pushed away things that reminded me of her. Maybe I pushed away more than I realized.
London is bringing out the romantic, sunset-seeking, Daniel-De-Luca-loving part of me. The me I was before I lost my mom. Ben sees it—that version of me. The wholeness of me, the parts that have been dormant for a very long time.
The duchess finishes the messages she’s sending and turns back to us. “Right, let me show you the exact spot they had all the cameras set up,” the duchess says. “I used to bring everyone Battenburg and homemade digestives just so I had an excuse to see what was going on. By the end, I had my own chair. They even had my name put on it.” She lets out a throaty laugh. “It was such fun. Although I’m not sure the duke has ever forgiven me for spending so much time away from him. He likes me close by.”
Her phone rings and she pulls it from her pocket. We all come to a stop. “Speaking of. I have to get this, but it’s just over there—by the tree with the stone at the base.”