Chapter Twenty-Five
Andrew’s father sends a private jet to bring us to Scotland, and, like everything with them, it surprises me how easily it all comes. There’s no line at the counter, no long shuffle through security, no need to pull up a confirmation number on my phone, no worry about getting a taxi on the other end. Luca’s sister is to pick us up at the Oban Airport.
The small jet has a set of club chairs facing each other with a table in between on one side, and a long bench on the other. Andrew gestures me into a window seat and sits down beside me. Luca takes the seat opposite and then takes a picture of Andrew and me.
“Are you putting that on your feed?” Andrew asks. “People might think I’m trying to steal your hen.”
“No,” Luca says. “Some pictures are just for us.”
The flight is a little more than four hours. In the early afternoon, Luca takes me over to the bench seat to show me Glasgow when the clouds break. Luca’s family has a residence in Edinburgh, but we’re going to the house he actually calls home. The terrain below becomes more remote as we head northwest. When we begin the descent, Luca pulls me back to the club chairs and puts me on his side by the window.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” he asks as he leans in, and a tiny airport next to a large bay comes into view.
Andrew takes a picture of us looking out the window. I look over at him.
“Some photos are just for us,” he says with a slight smile. When it pops up in my texts, I mouth, Thanks. He gives me a small shrug. Maybe he knows how much I’m going to missthem.
Adaira is waiting by the tarmac when we pull up outside the tiny white bungalow that serves as the airport’s terminal. She and Luca have the same beautiful lines to their faces, and the same dark, soft hair. Her eyes are more green than blue, though, and when she smiles, there’s a lot more determination to it than I’ve ever seen with Luca, even when he’s using his public persona.
“It’s so great to meet you,” she says, pumping my hand up and down. “Luca has told me so much about you.”
“It’s lovely to meet you as well.” All the practice I’ve had with Luca over the summer meeting people doesn’t help me feel any less nervous with his sister. Or guilty. We hustle our luggage into her Mercedes SUV, and Luca offers to drive, but Adaira says she wants to make it in one piece.
“I’ve become a very responsible driver, haven’t I, Story?”
“He actually has.”
Adaira laughs and swings into the driver’s seat, and Andrew rides shotgun. “Well, I’m glad to hear it!”
We skim through remote landscapes. Lush greens sparkle under huge puffs of blue-gray clouds. Adaira asks me a slew of questions.
“So where did you two meet?” she asks, catching my gaze in the mirror.
I look at Luca, not sure what to say.
“In a gelateria near the Keats-Shelley House,” he says.
“I can’t believe Luca even knows there is a Keats-Shelley House, how did you manage that?”
“My friend works there,” I say.
“And how long have you lived in Rome?”
“Almost a year.”
After a few more questions, she meets my gaze in the rearview mirror and winks. “Sorry, he’ll always be my little brother.”
“It’s fine. Andrew thought I was a wee bit of a chancer at first, too.”
Andrew looks back at me with mock confusion, and Luca laughs.
When we get near Oban, Luca points out landmarks with the excitement of a little boy.
“You’d think you’d been away for years,” Adaira says. “Was Rome so bad?”
“No,” Luca says. “Rome wasn’t bad at all.”
I turn my face to the window then, already knowing Andrew is giving us his disapproving face. But I let myself imagine how wonderful this would all be if it were real, even if it’s only for a few moments.
“Addie, take a turn around town before we drop Andy off. I want Story to see how bonnie it is,” Luca says.
Adaira takes us through the heart of Oban. Victorian architecture slopes up hills away from the blue bay. Sailboats line the harbor, and there’s something that looks like the Colosseum at the top of a nearby hill.
“That’s McCaig’s Tower,” Luca says. “It was probably supposed to be a museum and art gallery, but when the owner died, his family contested his will and construction stopped. It’s a park now. I’ll take you there. I know how you love follies.”
“You’re not a bad tour guide,” I say.
“I learned from the best.”
We head back out of town, along pretty country roads. We turn into a driveway and follow it to a hillside with views of the town and harbor. I lean my head down a bit to take in a substantial old stone mansion. Adaira pops the back hatch, and Andrew turns and says, “Well, I’ll check on you kids later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He looks straight at me as he imparts this wisdom.
He hops out and retrieves his bags from the trunk before he bounces up the front steps. Adaira pushes the button to close the back hatch.
“I see Andy hasn’t changed,” she says, smiling at us in the mirror.
“Andy will never change,” Luca says. “It’s one of his charms, like a reliable club chair.”
Adaira and I chuckle. Luca grabs my hand, but when I look at him, I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it as he’s watching the scenery fly by. We drive on for another ten minutes or so, and then Adaira pulls into a one-lane road. We follow it through twists and turns, trees lining either side.
We make a turn, and ahead of us is a stunning white house that has a kind of castle appearance to it, with circular towers built on either side, framed by blue water behind and rolling green lawns in front. I expected a lot, but this is beyond even what I had imagined.
Adaira follows the gravel drive around the house to the back. The view of the bay is almost too perfect to be real, and I’d forget to get out of the car except that Luca is tugging me. There are garden beds all around the house with miniature seas of pink and coral and blue flowers. Seagulls cry over the water, and a soft breeze is blowing.
“The weather is going to be great for sailing tomorrow,” Luca says. “Come on.”
“Shouldn’t we get our bags?”
“Hodges will make sure your things get to your room.”
He pulls me up across a terrace into the back entrance of the house, which shines with dark woods and white ceilings and walls. It smells like lavender and mint. The hallway opens to a large, fancy kitchen, and there’s a back staircase at the end of the hall. An older woman in a chef’s uniform smiles at us.
“Welcome home, sir! It’s been too quiet without you.” She’s kneading dough, her hands covered in flour. “And welcome, Miss Herriot.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say.
“This is Iona. When you get hungry, just tell her. She knows you’re vegan.”
I suddenly feel stupid over the three bottles of water and handful of vegan protein bars in my luggage.
“That’s right, miss, anythin’ you want, just let me know. I’ve got plenty of plant-based staples in for you.”
“Thank you, that’s so thoughtful.”
Adaira wanders down the hallway. “Mother, Luca’s here.”
We follow her, but then Luca stops me. “Are you nervous?”
“Why?”
“You’re squeezing the blood out of my hand.”
“Oh, sorry.” I slacken my grip.
He smiles. “There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.” He pulls me on as if I’m really his girlfriend about to meet his mother.
There’s a bisecting hallway and then an entryway at the front of the house with soaring ceilings. A grand staircase swirls upward to a balcony hallway. Off this entryway are several rooms, and Luca follows the sound of Adaira’s voice into an elegant sitting room. It’s large, with long casement windows that sweep the two outer walls like dancers holding their positions. Blue and white fabrics, with splashes of color and fresh flowers on a credenza, make it one of the happiest rooms I’ve ever seen.
“Hello, Mum,” Luca says. He drops my hand and goes over to kiss her.
“Luca! I’ve missed you.” She’s a tall woman with fashionable blond hair and Luca’s straight nose. Adaira is also tall as she stands beside her mother, and I feel like a gorse bush surrounded by oak trees.
“I’d like to present Miss Astoria Herriot to you.”
I think Luca forgot to tell me I’m supposed to bow or something. This is not average rich-people stuff. “How do you do, Mrs.Kinnaird?” I hold out my hand.
“Oh, sorry!” Luca says, slapping his palm to his forehead. “I forgot to tell you, it’s ‘Your Grace.’?”
My mouth drops open, and I feel just like I did the first night we met. All that’s missing is stracciatella dripping off my tongue. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace, forgive me.” I look at Luca to see if I’m supposed to curtsy or something.
“Oh, darling, it’s fine,” she says as she gives Luca a quick side-glance. Her voice is serene, though, as if she could convince grizzly bears to do yoga. She takes my hand, but not like a handshake. Instead, she cradles my hand between both of hers as she looks into my eyes, probably calculating how long she thinks I have left before Luca moves on and why I’m so stupid that I don’t know to say “Your Grace” instead of “Mrs.Kinnaird.”
“Thank you for having me. Your home is lovely.”
“Thank you, dear,” she says as she lets my hand go.
I wrestle a jar of blueberry preserves from my little backpack. “I brought you this. It’s from my grandfather’s farm in Maine. He doesn’t actually make the preserves, a lady in town does, but they’re his blueberries.”
She takes the jar from me, and I’m glad it’s got a pretty little watercolor label from Mabel’s Stoneground Organic Kitchen. “Thank you, Astoria, how thoughtful! We’ll have it tomorrow with breakfast, this looks delicious. We’re delighted you could be with us.”
“It was very kind of you to include me. You can just call me Story, if you like.”
“I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Story, but you’d probably like a chance to freshen up. Luca, why don’t you take Story up to her room and help her settle in? We’ll have an early dinner so we have time to relax tonight and catch up. I want to hear all about Rome. It sounds like it’s been very interesting.” She gives Luca a playful smile.
“Aye, Mum.” Luca puts his hand on my elbow and steers me out of the room as Adaira adds, “If you need anything, justask.”
“Thank you,” I say. I look back and they’re watching me curiously, probably wondering how Luca managed to bring home an ordinary girl who isn’t a model.
I follow Luca upstairs and along the balcony hallway into another hall. “I had them put you on the bay side so you have the view.”
“Thanks.”
He smiles. “What do they say in Italian? Certo?”
“Sì, certo.”
The room looks like it belongs in a BBC show, with glistening vistas of the water and a large, four-poster bed. My suitcase is on a luggage rack, and puffy towels are stacked in the adjacent bathroom. It’s like staying at a five-star hotel, which I wouldn’t know except for having seen how Luca’s hotel treats him. There are even chocolates on the pillow.
“So, what’s going on? Are you royalty or something?”
I kind of expect him to laugh, but he bobbles his head from side to side as if to say Sort of.
“Luca?”
“My father’s a duke.”
I stare a moment as this settles in my head. “And you didn’t think to mention this to me at any time since we met?”
“Well, I did, but it never seemed like a good time. I knew you’d frown, just like that.”
“I’m not frowning.” I try to smooth out my face.
“And you apparently never Googled me, so—” It even sounds stupid. “Googling” someone.
“Buyer beware?”
Luca smiles tentatively. “Something like that?”
From now on, I am definitely Googling people.
“So what are you?”
“Well, technically, I’m a commoner, just like you. At least until I inherit my dad’s title. But I have the honorary title of marquess.”
I put my hand around a post of the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Luca shuffles on his feet. “Well, at first, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know you well enough. I mean, most people know this about me, but you were so innocent of it, I figured I’d get to know you better first, in case you weren’t what you seemed. A good cardplayer never shows his hand and all that. And then, that day at the Porta Alchemica—”
“I made fun of the Marquess of Pietraforte.”
“You kind of said we were all crazy, so I figured I should wait until you knew me better because you were just starting to tolerate me, and I didn’t want to give you a reason to dislike me any more than you did.”
That day was the first time Luca and I had fun together. “I’m sorry?”
Luca laughs. “I was going to spring it on you on the plane when I had Andrew there to shame you into accepting me with his upper-crust pride. But then I got too focused on showing you Oban and forgot.”
“So is Andrew royalty, too?”
“No. He’s just a spoiled rich brat. I’m a spoiled rich brat with a title.”
“So that’s what you meant when you said the eldest son had certain expectations to meet in your family?”
He nods.
“And you can’t disappoint your family.”
The smile leaves his face. “Come here.” I follow him across a plush carpet to the window. The view is like something out of a travel magazine. Luca slips his hand into mine. “It’s not a terrible price to pay for all this.”
Small white crests rise and fall, and a road of sunlight sparkles into the horizon across the water. Shorebirds glide on currents of air above the pebbled beach. “I guess we’ve both had expectations guide our whole lives. Now I get why you were so interested in Princess Ann in Roman Holiday.”
He pulls his hand from mine and slips it around my shoulder, his hand resting gently against my neck, and holds me close, his lips resting on my temple. I feel like Psyche must have when Cupid raised her from her deathless sleep, my heart skittering all over the place. I look up, and his lips brush my nose. For a second, I think he’s about to kiss me for real.
“Well,” he says, pulling away from me as he clears his throat, “I should let you have a few minutes to yourself before the grilling begins. You’re going to be charred like a swordfish. Let me know if you forgot anything. I can get the messages or send someone.”
“Get the messages?”
“Oh, that means go to the store, because, you know, someone writes the list up and leaves it on the fridge and then someone goes to get the messages.”
“That is the cutest saying I have ever heard. How did you guys not conquer England?”
“Ah, hen, I ask myself that all the time.” He breaks into a huge smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I laugh. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”