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 pull Ben over to the pear tree the duchess indicated. “They left it.” I drop his hand and crouch down to read the inscription. It’s exactly the same as the one in the movie. “It’s a dedication to his beloved sister who died in childbirth, who loved the orchard when she was alive. When Avani Tudor first moves into the house as duchess, she finds it. The love the duke has for his sister makes the duchess finally see he isn’t the monster everyone thinks he is. Oh, Ben, it’s like it’s real.”
It’s beautiful. A smooth stone, weathered with lichen and time. The words have started to fade. It’s just a name and the dedication, She loved it here, so I love it here.
In a second, I’m transported back to a fall afternoon with my mom. We’d stopped for gas, and someone mentioned the trees over by Trent’s farm were looking pretty. We drove over and kept following the fall colors until we were fifty miles away, then watched the sun go down, eating gas-station beef jerky and sitting on the hood of the car. It’s stupid, but this trip has brought every memory of my mom racing back in a kaleidoscope of color. I miss her so much.
She would have loved to be here. I would give anything to have her back, just for this moment. And maybe a few moments more. Even though it’s been years, it feels like I need her more than ever.
She’d be able to reassure me I could find plenty of joy in life without knowing what my future holds, without the job or Jed or the fancy apartment. None of that stuff would have mattered to her. She’d hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. Right now, that’s all I need.
“We’re talking about the duke and duchess in the film?” he asks.
I pull the corner of my sweater over my thumb and dab at my eyes. “Yes.”
“Are you okay?” Ben pulls at my elbow, but I shake him off.
“I just need a minute.”
But instead of pretending I’m not crying and backing off, he crouches down beside me. “Are you upset about the sister dying?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, you’ve found it. Good.” The duchess rushes over, and we both get to our feet. “I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to leave you. George has got himself into a tizzy, and I need to go back to the house.”
“No problem at all. Is there anything we can do to help?” Ben asks, saving me from having to speak.
She waves her hand in the air. “Nothing at all. See you inside for lunch at twelve thirty. Make sure you visit the walled garden. It’s on the other side of the house.”
We stand side by side in silence as we watch the duchess head back to the house.
I pull in a breath and steady myself, refocusing on the here and now. “This is a bit of a wasted morning for you,” I say. “No duke or duchess to impress. We can go back to the house if you want to catch up on emails or something?”
“Are you okay?” he asks, ignoring my deflection completely. “Is it your mum?”
“I’m fine,” I say with a shrug. “I just . . . I just miss her sometimes.”
His large hand smooths up my back even though there’s no one to notice. “I’m sorry.”
“She died a long time ago, but she would have gotten such a kick out of me being here. Even the bit where I’m fake-engaged to a hot, moody Brit. She’d think it was a huge adventure.” My voice wobbles as I finish my sentence. Ben steps in front of me and envelops me in a hug. Instead of pushing him away and telling him I’m fine, I sink into him and just let myself breathe.
He smells delicious, like wet pine forests and cinnamon. He feels safe, like a big old oak tree that’s been here for three hundred years. How can I feel so comfortable with him when I’ve known him just a few days?
“I’m usually stronger than this,” I say, needing him to know I’m not always such a crybaby.
He just pulls me tighter, and I burrow deeper into his jacket, laying my face on his chest. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to pull away. We stand like that for what seems like hours. I flick through the various expressions my mother would have if I told her I met a duke and duchess, if I described staying in a place like Fairfield, if she saw the ring on my left hand. If I told her I was sharing a bedroom with a man like Ben.
When I let myself surface from all the wishes and should-have-beens, I press my palms against Ben’s chest and step back.