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)
“Well, that’s settled. Cheese on toast—whatever the hell that is—plus Dancing with the Strictly Stars. In bed. You deserve a day off when we get back from here.”
“You’ve decided that’s what I need?” he asks. “You’ve diagnosed my problem, and high-fat foods and shit TV shows while bedridden is the prescription.”
I sigh and flop back onto the bed, propping my head up with my hand so I can still see him. “It’s pretty much the solution for every problem I can think of. I swear, all international diplomatic relations should be conducted from bed. The UN should rip out the seats from the Assembly Hall and replace them with beds with a built-in wide-screen. The world would be a better place for it.”
“You’ll have to police me,” he says. “I’m not sure I’ve got the staying power to last a day in bed.”
“Police you? Not my kink.”
He chuckles, reaches for the eye mask on the table, then turns off the lamp next to the couch, sending the room into darkness. “No costumes required. Just a partner in crime.”
“Maybe you haven’t had the right incentive to spend the day in bed before?” I suggest.
“You’re right,” he says. “Maybe you’re what I’ve been missing.”
I pause, waiting for a sarcastic follow-up, but it doesn’t come.
“I need to state for the record, I’m entirely onboard if you’re offering snacks and trashy TV.” And a day in bed with you, I don’t add.
“Good night, Tuesday,” he says.
It’s one of the few times he’s used my real name, and the sound winds around my body like one of his large hands sliding around my back, readying us for a waltz.
Chapter Sixteen
I’m dressed in jeans, a cream cashmere sweater, and a navy quilted jacket. I feel underdressed, considering I’m staying at the stately home of a duke and duchess, but everyone I’ve seen so far today is in more or less the same. We’ve gathered in the “morning room” to start our day. I’d like to see the afternoon room, to see how it’s different. Why do they have different rooms for different parts of the day? Maybe it has to do with the position of the sun, or maybe if you’re a duke and duchess, life can get tedious with just one room for the entire day.
The day’s itinerary has all guests meeting in the morning room before we go shooting, but Ben and I are the only ones here. Did we miss a memo?
“I’m so sorry, the duke’s not here and hunting is canceled,” the duchess says as she enters the room. “The gamekeeper has been taken ill. It’s a dreadful shame. The duke is stuck on a call with some Indian business associates. We’re not having the best morning. Again, I apologize.”
“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 change in 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 filmed A 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.