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’m not discussing it,” Ben says.
“I think you’re going to want to hear what I’m going to say,” Nick says. “Because the duke is hosting a shooting party the weekend after next, and I’m invited.”
Ben freezes, his glass halfway between the table and his deliciously full lips.
“I’m taking Elizabeth, obviously,” Nick continues. “I mentioned I was meant to be away with an old friend and managed to get the invitation extended to you and your significant other too.”
Ben places his glass back on the table. He seems to lift himself up in his chair by five inches. “Are you serious?” There’s a grit in his voice I haven’t heard before.
“Completely. So stop fucking around and let’s make a plan.”
“We need to stop fucking around and make a plan,” Ben echoes.
I’m not quite sure who the duke is, or what the hell a shooting party is, but apparently it’s serious. And also, honestly, it sounds a little dull. I might ditch dinner and go rewatch one of my favorite Daniel De Luca films. I’ve got the urge to snuggle up with some popcorn and press “Play” on The Lady Loves a Loser. I loved that one so much because Daniel and Olivia Lamb, who gives Elizabeth Taylor vibes, really seem to hate each other for the first part of the movie, but it’s completely obvious they’re perfect for each other.
“You know, I’m going to leave you guys to eat your dinner and make your plans in peace. I’m hanging up my stalking shoes and gonna slip on my Netflix slippers.”
“Please stay,” Nick says. “I actually think you might be helpful to Ben.”
I pause and stay silent, expecting him to elaborate. How am I going to be helpful planning a trip to a shooting party?
Nick looks at Ben with a serious expression.
“What?” Ben asks.
“Ask her to stay, mate. You might need her help.”
“I very much doubt that. But Monday is welcome to stay if she’d like. No doubt she’ll make better company than you.”
Another joke. A twirling ball of amusement spins in my stomach. Saturday Night Live will sign this guy up if he’s not careful.
“Stay, please,” Nick says again. “I’ll explain my plan.”
Our appetizers arrive, and when the waitress leaves us, Nick leans into the table as if he’s about to tell us the location of the Holy Grail. “I’ve been working directly and indirectly for the Duke of Brandon for years now,” Nick says. “He’s a huge landowner in the UK and the only shareholder of the Castles and Palaces Hotel Group. Ben wants to buy the hotel group—it’s one of the most prestigious in Europe. Small, boutique hotels, often in some of the most historic houses in the United Kingdom.”
“It’s good business,” Ben says.
“And he has other reasons,” Nick says to me. “Anyway, the duke doesn’t want to sell.”
“He won’t even take a meeting with me,” Ben says, as if it’s completely ludicrous anyone wouldn’t cut off their arm to have a meeting with him. Maybe they would. He could be Harry Styles’s dad for all I know.
“The duke is notoriously private, but his wife is a little more extroverted. It’s the duchess who’s encouraged the duke to host the shooting party.”
“But the duke will definitely be there?” Ben asks.
“Absolutely,” Nick confirms.
“Do we go up on Friday?” Ben asks.
“It depends who you’re referring to as ‘we.’” Nick winces, like Ben is going to start putting the pieces together any moment now and lose it.
“And who is ‘we,’ Nicolas?” His tone is one hundred percent Daniel in The Lady Loves a Loser—wry and skeptical. Maybe that explains my sudden urge to rewatch after all these years.
“Well, that depends. I’m finally going to get you in front of the duke; it’s going to be your chance to sell yourself.”
“My offer sells itself. It’s more than generous.”
“He doesn’t need the money. I don’t know how many times I need to explain to you that the duke is all about legacy. Not money.”
“Everyone’s got their price.”
Nick pauses, shakes his head, and rolls his wineglass in one hand and then the other. “No. He doesn’t. You could offer him double what you’re thinking, and the answer would still be no.”
“Then why am I wasting time going to a shooting party?” Ben asks.
I’m ready for the answer. This sounds like the start to a cozy mystery, and I’m here for it. Daniel De Luca’s brief foray into television with Hamish McPhee Investigates might not have had the ratings to secure a second season, but my mom and I loved it.
“Family means everything to him,” Nick says.
“So you keep telling me.”
“As you know, the duke and the duchess’s son died in a boating accident when he was just two,” Nick says.
The mention of death sparks a flash of memory—the summer I turned fourteen, and the last vacation Dad, Mom, and I took together before everything changed. I thought we’d have those lakeside summers every year, because I didn’t understand yet that nothing lasts forever. Life can’t always be rowing in lazy circles on calm water, toasting marshmallows while watching the sun go down. Not always. Maybe not ever.