Chapter Twenty-Six
A half hour later, Luca texts. Would you like a tour of the ancestral heritage that leads to my peerage?
How could I possibly say no?
He knocks on my door a minute or two later and offers me his arm.
“Andrew wouldn’t approve of you making fun of your title.”
Luca shakes his head. “Definitely not. He takes this all very seriously. Which is good because if people like Andrew didn’t take it seriously, it wouldn’t exist, and we’d need to find new ways to be relevant, rather than relying on the mad warrior skills of my ancestor, the first Duke of Dunrobin. He vanquished a bunch of heathen keelies at the Battle of Haddon Rig in 1542. There’s a portrait of him in the library. I’ll show you. I have his chin.”
He says this last bit with mock seriousness in his best home accent.
“Poor Andy. No wonder he’s so invested in protecting the sanctity of the realm.”
“Someone’s got to do it.”
Luca starts our tour in the uppermost part of the house, which isn’t exactly a watchtower, but is a kind of attic widow’s walk. “When we were kids, Addie and my other sister, Lillias, and I would come up here and pretend to be guarding the place from invaders. Usually English, but sometimes French or Viking. Lil would always cry because I’d say we should offer her as a sacrifice.”
“That’s terrible. And did you win?”
“Did we win? We’re Kinnairds! We have the mad warrior skills of the first Duke of Dunrobin in our veins, you daft American.”
“Of course,” I concede. “I think I would have imagined this to be a magical castle.”
“Well, Princess Astoria, you would have been a great ruler.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“I mean it.” He studies me. “I think I’d trust you with the fate of the world more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I doubt I have your mad warrior skills, though,” I say, blushing a little at the compliment.
“No,” he says. “But you have a pure heart. And that, sweet Story, is worth more than mad warrior skills any day.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything. But I wish I could tell him how grateful I am to have known him. He touches his fingertips to mine, and for a moment we just look at each other. Luca opens his mouth to say something, but then he turns away.
“Come on,” he says. “It’s a huge house and we are expected at the table at precisely six o’clock.”
I start to follow him but then pull back. “I’m dressed all right, aren’t I?”
“I mean, it’s fine if that’s all you brought.” He shrugs.
I hesitate. “You’re teasing me, right?”
“Aye, Stor, I’m kidding. This isn’t Buckingham Palace. And you look beautiful.” He turns, and I could swear I hear him add, “Really beautiful.”
Something about the way he says it reminds me of his charity kiss, and my face gets hot no matter how much I will it tostop.
We continue the tour. His room is on the other side of the house from mine, and also faces the bay. It smells like him, a kind of earthy pine I love now. There’s a desk across from his bed. The cheetah cubs photo from the gallery opening hangs above it. We stand at the window. Someday, he’ll bring Jasmine here. I’m not the one who’s supposed to be sharing this view with him. For the first time in my life, I envy a celebrity.
“It must be hard to grow up in a house like this. You’d never get to redecorate your room.”
Luca smiles. “I bet every place you’ve lived in you’ve had a different theme to your room.”
“Guilty,” I say. The word settles on me like a mist because I’m not Jasmine. “We’d better keep moving if we’re going to be on time.”
We make our way downstairs. He shows me the library with the portrait of the first duke. Luca stands beside it and sticks his chin out until I assure him that I see the resemblance. When our eyes meet over the laugh, I have to turn away.
I run my hands along the books, soaking in their titles. “This room is gorgeous.”
“I knew anyone who appreciates the Keats house would appreciate this.”
“I could live above it.” There’s a little cushioned window seat with leaded panes glinting in the late-afternoon light, and Luca points to it. I nod. That would definitely be my spot, and it’s like we have our own secret language, we know each other so well.
We wander down a corridor to a large hall, with wide plank floors and dark paneling. At the far end, a drum set, piano, and several guitars are clustered together.
“Oh, jings,” I say.
“You spend too much time with Andy and me.” He goes to the drum set and sits down, then nods at me to take a guitar.
“What should we play?” he asks.
“He mostly plays pub music,” someone says, and I look up to see a boy of about thirteen standing in the doorway. He looks like a younger, blond version of Adaira.
“Story, this is my brother, Will.”
We say hello, and Will sits at the piano. “Do you all play?” I ask.
“Just Will and Lillias and me,” Luca says. “She’s a better drummer than I am.”
“But Luca plays at the pub in town,” Will says.
“When Craig’s band is home, they let me mess around a wee bit. That’s all.”
I suppose being on tour like Jasmine, or maybe even with her, is the thing Luca can’t do because of his title. It makes him feel even farther away.
“Will,” Luca says, “can you play ‘Where the Heather Grows’? You had it down really well before I left for Rome.” It’s the biggest hit Craig’s band has had. Luca looks at me. “You can play it, right? You sing along to it in the car.”
“I think so,” I say.
Will finds the music for it, and Luca and I study the notes before handing it back to him. I have to tune the guitar a bit, and it takes us a couple tries to get together, but then we do.
“Will, you are amazing,” I say.
“Thanks,” he says with a slight blush.
“Story, will you sing it?” Luca asks.
I’ve told him way too many things about the inner workings of my heart. The song is about a boy who starts out using a girl until he ends up falling for her and asking her to stay in Scotland with him, where the heather grows. Luca’s not trying to make me fall in love with him, and I’m not the girl he can’t lose. But he’s always just a little more than you expected him to be. He and Will join in on the chorus. When the last note sounds, there’s clapping. Adaira is standing just inside the door with an older man who must be Luca’s father.
Luca sets down his sticks and steps out from the set. He shakes his dad’s hand and introduces us.
“It’s lovely to have you here, my dear,” the duke says. He’s tall like Luca, and a bit stern looking.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“We can dispense with formalities tonight, I think,” the duke says as he lets my hand go. “Except for the party, this weekend is just about family. Let’s go into dinner, shall we? Luca, will you escort our guest?”
Luca offers me his arm. “See how quickly you picked up the royal lingo?” he whispers.
“I’m not a total bampot. I’ve seen a few princess rom-coms in my day.”
“Well, that’s good, because you’re going to need those mad skills to make it through dinner with my family.”
I glance up at him, but as we enter the dining room, I’m not entirely sure he’s joking.
I meet Luca’s other brother, Camden, at dinner. Lillias and her husband are coming the day after tomorrow from London. Camden is fifteen, and he and Will excel in telling stories of the stupid things Luca has done growing up, like the time he got his finger stuck in a metal grate in a store, or the time he fell from the barn loft making out with a girl. Luca takes it good-naturedly, and I suspect this isn’t the first time the family has been through this performance for one of Luca’s real girlfriends.
Dinner has a lot of courses, and I watch Luca to see what silverware he uses for each so I don’t look like I just crawled out of a blueberry patch in backwoods Maine. Anytime someone asks me anything vaguely personal, Luca follows up my answer with something that takes the conversation in another direction.
After dinner, we have dessert on the terrace. Luca brings me his Oxford crew hoodie when he sees me hugging my arms. Will starts a fire in the outdoor fireplace. The sunset over the bay completes the fairy tale. Luca must have told them about me because they tactfully stay away from asking about my dad. But the dinner gloves are off, and they ask lots of questions about where I’ve lived and about Maine and Princeton and the rest of my family and what I want to do with my life. It’s almost like a job interview.
Luca chimes in enough to not seem distracted, but he keeps texting and then watches me contemplatively, which makes me more nervous than the dissection his family is giving me. The only time he’s really animated is when he talks about Rome. He fills his parents in on the social obligations he’s completed, but he also talks about the fun things we’ve done.
“Luca volunteered at a farm sanctuary?” Will asks with a snort.
“Luca loves animals,” his mother says.
“Mum,” Adaira says, “riding horses is not like taking care of real farm animals.”
“He’s actually a lot of help,” I say. “He’ll even rake the stalls.”
A collective cry of disbelief and joking follows this report.
“You know, you lot don’t know as much about me as you think you do,” Luca declares, but he’s laughing.
When the evening’s over, he walks me to my room. At the door, he takes my hand. “Story, I know I promised you sailing tomorrow, but could we postpone it a day?”
“Sure, we don’t have to go if you need to do other things.”
He glances around. “I need to run to Edinburgh tomorrow. Jasmine is in Manchester for her tour, and she wants to hop over to meet. It’s actually perfect timing.”
There’s a huge tug on my heart as reality straightens it up. Somehow, though, it’s still leans like the Tower of Pisa. “Of course.” I slip my hand from his. “The boys want to take me riding while I’m here, so I’ll just pal around with them for theday.”
“Well, you need to come, because my parents aren’t going to believe I’m just abandoning you here for a jaunt to Edinburgh. Andy said he’d come, too, and he can show you around the city, and my family will just think we’re taking you sightseeing. We can leave in the morning, and we’ll be back by dinner. It’s only a two-and-a-half-hour drive.”
I picture the ride. I imagine Luca anticipating his hookup with his scorching diva the whole way there, and then I see him missing her already on the way back. It stings a lot more than it should, which seems like a just punishment for not having listened to Andrew. I did plan to follow Andrew’s advice. Or, more accurately, I never even thought I needed his advice. But, somehow, opening the door to Luca as a friend has led to my whole house being blown apart. I thought I had built it out of bricks, but I seem to be the little piggy who used twigs after all.
“Sure, whatever you want.”
“It’s just, I need to see her, in person, you understand?”
The arrow hits my chest, and he doesn’t even know he’s holding an empty quiver. Luca and Jasmine haven’t seen each other in almost a month, not since the day trip for brunch. Of course he wants to be with her. I just wish I’d realized how close she would be so that it could have occurred to me, rather than standing here like a blindsided groupie. I dig down into the bottom drawer of my pride dresser and pull out a smile.
“Of course, I understand. I’d love to see Edinburgh.”
He looks at me a moment, and I’m not sure how much longer I can manage without tears coming. “Thanks,” he says. “You’ve been the greatest fake girlfriend any guy could ask for. I know you never wanted any of this. I don’t deserve you.”
I want to tell him he doesn’t, but I don’t have any right to be mad. Playing the dutiful sidekick is what I signed up for.
“I mean that,” he practically whispers. “I hope—”
He stops, his lips hovering just over mine, and I’m not sure when or how we got so close, but I’m pressed between Luca and the door to my room, and all I can think of is when he kissed me before, even if it was just a charity kiss.
I can’t hold his gaze while I wait for him to tell me how he hopes we’ll still be friends after all this. I look down. We stay like that a second, and then he pecks my forehead almost as if I’m a bird he’s worried of frightening away. He turns down the hall toward his side of the house. “Sleep tight, sweet Story,” he says over his shoulder.
I close the door and go to the window and listen to the wind over the bay, and, still wrapped up in Luca’s hoodie, I let myself have a really good cry.