Chapter 15
Petey
By midnight, Indira, William, and I were standing in our pyjamas in the production office in the Old Coach House.
This was The Love Manor base camp, the nerve centre.
Long trestle tables had been set up along both walls, with screens showing the feeds coming in directly from all the fixed cameras set up around the house.
My night shift colleagues, Haruto and Thandiwe, were sitting at their desks, logging and filing the day’s material. Indira sucked on her cigarette.
“Remind me why you’re living in that fucking tower?”
William shrugged. “To make sure everything runs as smoothly as possible.”
“Right. How do we think that’s going?”
“Listen, I know we had a few teething troubles, but—”
I scoffed. “You’re a liability, bruv.”
“Hey, I kept to my side of the bargain. What happened this evening had nothing to do with me. If you had any control over your cast—”
I wasn’t having this entitled himbo throw me under the bus. “This only happened because you rode through my shot!”
“How did they even know who I was? I didn’t tell them,” William said, throwing his hands wide.
Suddenly, I felt incredibly guilty. That was on me. But I couldn’t admit it in front of Indira or she’d give me a bollocking—and I had too much on the line.
“And I certainly didn’t tell them where I live. Someone told them, because it takes quite a mental leap to put all those things together.”
Indira waved her cigarette. “It could have been your furry friend. The one with a laugh like a jackal fucking an electric power socket.”
“Jonty?” I said, leaping on the escape route offered. “Could have been, I guess.” After all, it must have been him who’d let slip about the folly.
“It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” Indira said. “All that matters is fixing it.”
I had to come up with a solution. Not only because I’d caused this headache and avoided the blame for it, but I was meant to be Indira’s fix-it man—and if I ever wanted my own show, I needed to prove my value.
“We need to remove William from the table as an option for the cast,” I said. “Could you live somewhere else for the time being?”
“Absolutely not,” he said, stamping his foot. “I want this show to be a success, but this is my home and I won’t be pushed out of it.”
“It’s for, like, three more weeks, bruv.”
“I’m not merely the lord of the manor, I’m Buckford’s custodian, its caretaker for my lifetime. I have a responsibility to look after it.”
This privileged idiot had clearly fallen for the same horseshit “family legacy” speech as my brother and sister.
Still, he was very sexy when he was passionate.
He was very sexy when he wasn’t passionate, too, but there was something incredibly hot about him coming over all masterful like that.
Apparently, he was even sexy when he wasn’t being very helpful.
Indira blew out a stream of smoke. “We could tell them he’s gay. Take him off the table that way.”
“I already tried that,” William said. “They sent Tom up to test out the theory.”
“Tom’s into guys?” Indira asked.
“Into, verging on assault, I would say,” William said.
“And it didn’t work, because I had three more women visit me after Tom, one of whom spat so badly when she spoke I had to have a shower.
The papers call me the bisexual baron, no one is going to believe I’m off limits based on my advertised preferences alone. ”
Indira sucked on her cigarette. “Unless we take you off the table like completely completely.”
William looked horrified. “You want to… murder me?”
“No, you fucking dafty.” Smoke was leaking from Indira’s head like a Victorian chimney. “We tell them you’re already in a committed relationship.”
“Genius,” I said. Possibly laying it on a bit thick.
William looked wary. “With whom?”
Cigarette burning away between her fingers, Indira pointed at me. Oh God! William looked aghast.
“Got a better idea?” she asked.
I looked at William, William looked at me, we both seemed to consider it for a second, then we shrugged in unison. I might not have come up with the solution, but surely the next best thing was to be an integral part of it?
“Go pack your things, Petey Boy, you’re moving into that fucking Rapunzel tower with Lord Rumpled Sportsman here.”
William threw his hand up into his hair. “Hold on, there’s only one tiny bed.”
I was eager to be helpful. “I don’t mind if—”
“No, I’m not having that,” Indira said. She pointed at William. “You I don’t give a fuck about. But Peter I have a duty of care for. You’ve got two hundred rooms, you must have a spare couch you can drag up there.”
William wavered. “We might have an old trundle bed in the attic? Bramley will know.”
“Problem solved.” Indira sucked deeply on her cigarette, one eye squinting against the smoke. “Peter, when you do the morning rundown with the cast at breakfast tomorrow, you’re going to announce Lord Juicyballs here is your boyfriend.”
William and I glanced at each other. He looked petrified.
“Take him with you. Put on a show. Convince them you’re so in love you can’t keep your hands off each other.
You’re up his arse like a rat up a drainpipe every chance you get.
Fuck it. In fact, tell them you’re engaged.
Let’s really lock this down. You’re both very flattered and all that, but Mr Darcy is shagging Mr Wickham. ”
“Wickham?” It was a bit much. “Can’t I be Bingley?”
Indira, emotionless, sucked on her cigarette like it was sustaining her existence.
“Do you think they’ll swallow it?” William asked.
He was right. “It is a bit convenient, isn’t it? We’re filming in his house and I’m his fiancé?”
“Tell them that’s how we got permission to film here.
” Indira blew out her smoke. “You’re a smart kid.
Use your fucking imagination. We need you to convince the cast you’re in love.
It can’t be fucking hard. Six of them have already told our cameras they’re in love, and they only met four days ago. ”
The next morning the whole cast—lords, ladies, and servants, all dressed in their Regency gear—gathered in Buckford Hall’s dining room for breakfast. It was the daily routine: The show’s catering company laid out all the options, buffet-style, and the cast helped themselves.
They could sit with and chat to whomever they wanted.
Our installed cameras filmed the whole thing, in case something vital to the narrative happened, but it was understood this footage wasn’t generally used.
At some point, either I or one of the other assistant producers would interrupt to deliver the rundown for the day.
I stood in the hallway with William, summoning the courage to make my entrance.
“Take a few deep breaths,” William said. I met his grey eyes, and he smiled reassuringly.
“I ain’t usually this nervous.”
“Well, it’s not every day you announce your engagement.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Did you deal with Jonty?” William asked.
“First thing this morning. He won’t say a word. You remember what to do?”
“Absolutely.” William winked. “You look very cute, by the way.”
Heat rushed to my face, and I glanced away.
“Thank you, so do you.” There weren’t many outfits that could upstage the flamingo-pink boiler suit I’d worn for the occasion, but William in his full riding outfit—the boots, the jodhpurs, the polo shirt he must have had to grease himself up to get into—was right up there.
“Breathe,” he said.
So I did.
Then I made my entrance.
“Morning, everyone.”
There were the usual whoops and cheers—the loudest of all from Jonty.
My heart was racing as I ran through a few important bits of housekeeping.
“Now, before I move on to the subject of plans for tomorrow night’s ball—” Big cheers from the cast, the balls being the highlight of each week.
“I think there’s something we need to clear up. ”
“Is it the pox?” Jonty called out. There were a few laughs.
“This is serious. Rules have been broken.”
The cheers died down, replaced by the clatter of cutlery being gently placed on crockery and tablecloths. Eighteen pairs of eyes stared at me intently.
“It’s come to my attention some of you—an alarming number of you, actually—broke the rules last night and made contact with someone from the outside world.”
Faces were being pulled, sideways glances shared.
“Shocking,” Jonty said, shaking his head. “Who would do such a thing?”
“It seems some of you heard a rumour, saw an opportunity, and decided to act on it.”
“Disgraceful.”
“That’s enough with the help, thank you, Jonty.”
“Right you are.”
I straightened up, gripping my clipboard with both hands.
“I wasn’t going to reveal this to you all because, well, it’s a private matter… and the news hasn’t been made public yet, but…”
On cue, William strode into the room and stood beside me.
I turned to look at him, trying to appear completely besotted.
It wasn’t hard when he looked like that.
In return, he stared into my eyes like I was the only person in the room, like I was the centre of his world.
I’d have gone weak at the knees if it wasn’t also how he looked at his horse.
“For those of you who haven’t met him yet,” I announced to the room, “this is William. Buckford Hall is his gaff.”
William slipped his hand into mine, our fingers intertwining. “And we’re engaged to be married,” he said, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it.
There was a sharp intake of breath around the room. Jonty leapt to his feet, clapping and shouting “Bravo!” and “Three cheers for the new Lady Buckford!”
Slowly, the stunned faces around the room joined in the celebrations. William and I gazed at each other like we were deliriously happy. As I looked into his sparkling eyes, I got swept up in the part and threw myself around him. He pulled me into a tight hug. He felt so strong, I sank into him.
“Kiss her!” Jonty shouted. I could have killed him. It was not in the script. But now a chorus of “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” was filling the room, and I didn’t feel like we had any choice.
“Should we?” I whispered into William’s ear.
“You’re the producer, not me.”
I rested my forehead against his. We smiled at each other like a young couple in love.
The calls for us to kiss were now deafening.
They wanted evidence—and we needed to give it to them.
So I planted my lips on William’s and slowly, gently, lovingly, but chastely kissed him.
His lips were soft and plump, and the light rasp of his stubble sent electricity through my whole body.
Then he grabbed my arse, picked me up, and spun me around—to whoops of applause from the cast. He planted me back on the ground.
“Job done, I’d say,” I whispered in his ear.
William turned to face the cast and raised his hand to silence the room.
“So, while I’m very flattered by the attention—ladies, gentlemen—I’m afraid I’m off the market.
But let me tell you all something. Members of my family have been finding true love in this house, finding deep and abiding connections that last a lifetime, for more than five centuries.
If you can find love anywhere, I promise you can find it here, at The Love Manor.
And I wish that for every single one of you. ”
I was blown away. His little speech wasn’t part of the plan either.
The cast cheered. Ridhi, Cristina, and Lola Q looked on the verge of tears.
William waved at them, pecked me on the lips one more time, and slapped my arse.
Then he marched out of the dining room and presumably carried on to the stables to take his actual one true love, Achilles, out for a ride.
I stared at him as he disappeared up the hall, completely in awe.
For a moment, I almost forgot I wasn’t actually in love with him.
I shook it off. I was not going to get distracted by a boy.
“Right, settle down, everybody,” I said, putting as much authority into my voice as possible. “Are we all excited for tomorrow night’s ball?”
More whoops and cheers. The cast was in a great mood. They might have dipped out on marrying a real member of the aristocracy, but they were having fun this morning. It always made for great footage through the day.
“The costume department has been busy, and your outfits for tomorrow are ready to go. You’re all going to look spectacular.”
“All of us?” Kiki Galapagos sneered. “Or just the toffs?”
“Everyone! Because the theme for tomorrow night is a hunt ball, and servants were traditionally involved in various roles.”
There were a few cheers. But not as many as I hoped.
“Which means tomorrow we’re out on the horses!” I added. That got a roar from farm boy Tom and Lord Armando, and a few enthusiastic whoops from several others.
Ellie, the vegan chef, raised her hand. “Um, are you making us go fox-hunting?”
“Well, no. For one thing, fox-hunting is illegal. I promise you, no foxes are going to die tomorrow.”
“So, how is it a fox hunt?” Tom asked.
“It’s quite good fun, actually,” I said. “We’ve hired the actor Samuel Fox to stand out in the woods somewhere, and you have to locate him. We’ve got a shirt with his scent on it for the dogs to follow. It’s worth ten thousand pounds to the prize kitty if you find him.”
Ellie looked horrified. “Won’t he get ripped apart by the beagles?”
“They’re not hunting beagles, Ellie. They’re trained actors, we’ve hired them especially.”
She looked confused. “And they’re wearing beagle costumes?”
“Who?”
“The actors.”
“No, they’re real dogs. The dogs are trained actors. Come on, Ellie. Keep up.”
She shook her head furiously. “You say no one’s going to die, but my career’s going to die if I go along with a fox hunt. Can you imagine what it would do to my brand? The sponsors? The fans? I ain’t doing it, mate.”
“It’s only pretend. It’s not a real hunt.”
Kiki stood up. “Yeah, but it’s still promoting fox-hunting, isn’t it?”
“She’s right,” Zoe the travel blogger said. “I’m not doing it. It’s not only off brand for me, it’s wrong. I’m not getting cancelled for doing something I don’t agree with in the first place.”
“Well, I’m in,” Tom said.
Within seconds the cast were bickering about the moralities of filming a pretend fox hunt.
I shouted across the room, trying to regain order, but no one was listening.
They were all screaming at each other. Indira would be watching this all on the monitor back at the Old Coach House.
There was no pretending everything was under control.
There were eighteen of them. This rebellion was too much for one person to handle—especially considering that morally, I agreed with the rebels.
Admitting failure, I slunk back into the hall, found my headset, and put it on.
My finger was shaking as I pressed the button to speak to Indira.