Chapter 42
EVIE
A Little Bird Told Us ...
Our billionaire London beau was seen at a Surrey safari park, but not to look at the monkeys. He was at Northaby House with the earl, who recently put the whole shebang up for sale. Coincidence or not?
This Little Bird wonders if a safari park might be a veterinarian’s perfect wedding gift ...
A Little Bird only hopes, on the big day, they’re not planning on releasing a cage full of lions in the place of butterflies!
“And here’s Eve Fairfax!” I make a fist around my invisible microphone as I interview my pretend red-carpet self. “Who are you wearing tonight, Eve?”
“Oscar de la Renta.” I begin to bounce on the spot as, from across the room, Oliver gives a slow round of applause.
“Oscar de la Renta and every man’s eyes.” The look in his eyes is borderline predatory.
“You like?” I give in to a delicious little shiver. My dress is a rental, but I’ll never tell. Who has twelve thousand dollars to spend on a dress they’ll wear only once? Oliver, I guess. But we’ve already been down this path. I recently lamented losing my wedding shoes again, because I totally could’ve dyed them to match this beauty. Instead, I picked up an inexpensive pair of gold strappy heels and a tiny matching wallet on a chain from a local consignment store. But the dress is a piece of luxury. A gold-sheath minidress under a festooning of black tulle, adorned by embroidered golden leaves.
“I like you in it,” Oliver says, his legs eating up the space between us. “You look amazing.” I love how he gives his head a little shake, like I’ve stunned him.
“I told you I could dress myself.” I try his brow move on for size, but I can only make mine arch together. I probably look less enigmatic and more like Bert. From Bert and Ernie. “I can also dress you.” My gaze flickers over him, full of suggestion, not that he needs the help.
“I prefer it when you undress me. Leather pants really aren’t my thing.”
“Leather pants love you,” I whisper, cupping his smoothly shaven cheek, almost anticipating the brush of bristles later. I slide my hand over his satin lapel, not shawl-collared tonight but pointed. His jacket is double breasted and has a classic feel about it.
“I have something for you, and I’m so pleased to say I think it’ll work.”
“Oliver ...” My body language turns to that of an embarrassed teen as he moves to the table behind him, sliding a shiny black box from it. “You shouldn’t have,” I whisper as he balances it on his palms. “But can I tell you the truth?” My gaze lifts, and he nods. “I’m touched that you have, no matter what this is.”
“Even if it’s that leather mask with a pink ball gag?”
“You went back to the thrift store!”
His laughter is so deliciously deep it almost resonates through me.
“I told you thrifting is addictive,” I add.
But I can breathe easy, because this is not a piece of jewelry. The box is way too big. Plus, it’s made from heavy embossed card. It’s not that I don’t want jewelry; it’s more that I’m not comfortable with receiving expensive gifts. I’m pretty sure he’s gathered this by now.
“The only thing I’m addicted to is you.”
“I knew it all along. You were never going to have me deported.” He slides me an amused look. “You love me and my ridiculousness.”
“Are you going to open it?”
“Yes!” My answer is an excited hiss as I press my hands to the sides of the box and shimmy the lid off. There’s another box inside. Smaller. Black again. “Is this going to be a Matryoshka doll joke? Box after box after box, and a pack of Tic Tacs in the last one?”
“Yes, because I’m evidently that much fun.”
“I think you are,” I murmur, sliding the lid under my arm before reaching in. My fingers brush the tactile feel of velvet, and suddenly, I know. I know, and I don’t care as excitement wells inside me.
“Let me help.”
I throw the cardboard lid behind me, and Oliver discards the rest, holding out the black case like an offering. The velvet has worn bald in places, but that makes this feel all the more special. Reused. Reloved. Somehow, Oliver has picked up on this.
I press my thumb to the tiny brass button. The lid creaks open, and I gasp.
“Oliver.” I look up to find him smiling down at me. Meanwhile, my eyes must be a little dusty, because my vision is suddenly hazy.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s a tiara,” I whisper, awestruck. Bandeau style—that much I remember from our trip to the fancy jewelers. It sparkles so brightly, and though quite dainty in style, those are such a lot of diamonds.
“So it is.” His mouth hitches. “It’s Victorian. An heirloom piece, I’m told. I saw it, and I just thought, that belongs on Eve’s lovely head.”
Stop before I explode with pleasure.
“It looks like flowers.” The setting is a row of graduating V shapes that look like fronds. Tiny stones sit at the base, each frond holding a bigger, much more stunning stone. But still delicate, like a flower bud. I touch my fingertips to the cool, glittering stones.
These can’t be diamonds, can they?
“Of course they are.”
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud. But real diamonds?” My gaze lifts again, my brow furrowed with worry this time.
“Almost four hundred of them, a mixture of old and rose cut. It also converts to a necklace, which is quite a statement piece for all its daintiness. Want to know how many carats?”
“Dozens, I’m guessing,” I say, shaking my head. The eighty-thousand-pound ring is already too much.
“Let’s say several dozens.”
“But why?”
“Because I saw how much fun you had at Garrard. I wanted to see you smile like that again. And also, because this is the kind of gift no one else can ever give you. Well, apart from Mandy.”
“Mandy is not going to give me a tiara.”
“He’s enamored enough. You do know he was called Randy Mandy in his younger years.”
“That’s so funny. I love that for him.”
“But not so much for his chambermaids, I’m sure.”
“He’s too much of a gentleman. But, Oliver, I can’t take this from you. It’s too much.”
“Nothing is too much for you. Not from me. Especially when I have plans of seeing you wear it and nothing else.”
I press my hand to my hip as I answer. “Well, there he is. Regular-programming Oliver.”
“The one you love.”
“I kind of like the one who buys me tiaras too,” I answer shyly. “And the one who loves to be the big spoon to my little spoon. I also like the one who feeds me chocolate for breakfast. But the Oliver I love best is the one I have right here.”
His hand snakes around my back, and he kisses me like he doesn’t want to let go, but all I can think is Don’t drop my damn tiara! Kiss broken, I make my way to the mirror, and Oliver helps me attach this loveliness to my head.
“I had the jeweler put the velvet band on to match the color of your hair—no easy feat, given its brilliance.”
“If you ever get tired of property, you could always consider a career in hairdressing,” I say to our reflections as he fits the final pin. “Or a lady’s maid.”
He pauses, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Doesn’t that mean I’d get to help you from your clothes every night?”
“Like you don’t already.”
“Tonight, I’ll leave the tiara.” From behind, he presses his lips to my neck. My breath quickens as my thoughts blur, everything inside me turning molten at the touch. “There, the lily is gilded.”
I inhale shakily as his hand slips down my shoulder. I look like a princess. Cinders in her borrowed dress. “It’s beautiful.”
“Not quite as beautiful as you.” His voice is rough as his hands slide around my waist. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for helping me get to this point.”
“Northaby?”
“With everything. I wasn’t joking when I said you were the best thing to fall into my lap this year. I just didn’t realize at the time how lucky that made me.” My heart fills, but he’s not done. “I know we had a less than promising start, but I can’t wait to see what life brings us.”
“Me too.” I cover my arm with his, and his smile spreads sweet and slow like spilled honey.
“We should probably leave.” Yet his arms tighten. “I’m sure your second-most-ardent admirer is pining for the sight of you.”
“Bo?”
“That dog loves no one but himself.” He’s out for a walk right now with one of the porters. They’re going to keep him company tonight when we’re out charity ballin’ . “You know I mean Mandy.”
“Too funny,” I say as he takes my hand.
“Who’s laughing?”
I turn to the back window, still marveling as Ted maneuvers the Bentley through Northaby’s entrance. “I love how it’s like a mini Arc de Triomphe.” I turn back as the road opens up to the miles-long driveway, flanked by rolling green lawns and majestic trees. And not a lion in sight. “I’ll get to see the animals tonight, right?”
“Was it not enough that the monkeys almost destroyed Mandy’s Land Rover last time?”
“They were rhesus macaques, and Mandy’s Land Rover is built like a tank.” That’s not to say the other cars there that day fared so well. The macaques chewed on aerials, pulled off windshield wipers, and chewed anything they could snatch.
“I’m afraid alcohol and beasts tend not to be a good mix. Add in a safari park full of wild animals, and it’d be a health and safety nightmare.”
“Har. Har. ”
“But I have seen the keepers walking the grounds with some of the less fearsome animals at events before.”
With Lucy, I’ll bet. The thought curdles my mood like sour milk.
“What kind of animals?” I ask, trying for an upbeat tone.
“I think I saw koalas last time. Snakes. And I’m sure there was a baby alligator. Yes, someone made a comment about it being the ideal handbag. Mandy wasn’t very pleased. In fact, I’d never seen him so fierce.”
This warms my soul. “Mandy is on my list of favorite people.”
“Long list?”
“Just four people. Don’t worry, I am considering adding you to it.”
Oliver laughs.
As we draw closer to the house, the topography changes to reveal a lake and a quaint-looking boathouse. Beyond, straight lines of manicured hedging hints at a formal garden setting. Ted turns the corner, and we get to view the house from another aspect. Tall, the buttery stone gleams in the setting sun.
“What is it?” Oliver turns. Maybe I gasped in surprise or delight.
“We didn’t come this way before.”
“No, we went to the other entrance.”
“I just realized you’re buying a Pemberley.” In this light, at this moment, Northaby House looks like something out of a Jane Austen novel—made for TV!
“I’m buying a Northaby,” he says with an amused shake of his head.
“Shut up!” I sound almost offended. “A safari park and Pemberley? It’s good for you we met before I got to know Mandy.”
He looks at me like I’m the funniest thing ever. He obviously doesn’t know that bitches love a Pemberley.
Ted joins the queue of fancy cars waiting to reach the red-carpeted entrance. Honestly, when your house looks like this, a red carpet is overkill. Not that it stops me from feeling like a princess as the door is opened for me by a for-real, live, liveried footman.
And the house. Oh, my gosh. Mandy was so patient with me at the palace, but my first time here, I saw how mundane being there must’ve felt to him. Like wandering around his kitchen in his slippers. Northaby is so swanky, I’d totally wear my tiara to breakfast if I lived here.
“At the risk of repeating myself,” I murmur, leaning into Oliver. “Wow. Wow. Wow.”
“You like the place, don’t you?”
“Who wouldn’t?” I answer, taking it all in. “Imagine living in a house so grand, you have a staircase that goes in two directions but leads to the same place.”
“Imperial.”
“It must feel it,” I agree with a nod.
“No.” Oliver’s lips twitch. “That’s what it’s called. An imperial staircase.”
“It’s what I call over the top . Do you think Mandy would mind if I dashed up there so I could swan my way down? I have the dress for it.” I demonstrate a little swing of my hips, which Oliver seems to appreciate.
“You’d have to ask him.”
It’s cordoned off with a velvet rope, so I decide to wait.
“It’s just so ... historic,” I say, trying not to look like a hick as I stare at the paneling, the rococo ceiling, and that chandelier.
We’re served champagne, and we begin to mingle, Oliver stopping to exchange small talk with people here and there. I flush with pleasure as he introduces me as his girlfriend, his better half, and once simply as “the woman I love.”
Swoon!
Given that I’ve already seen bits of the place, I’m happy to pay attention to the canapés. Grilled scallops with lobster sauce and herb-crusted tuna on seaweed. Mm-mm! I make it my mission to sample at least one of everything on the passing sweet trays too. Tarte au citron, tiny brownies, and lavender-and-lemon meringue. Just delicious!
It isn’t long before Mandy finds us, looking very dapper in a tuxedo jacket of claret-colored velvet.
“Don’t you look handsome.” I try very hard not to let Oliver catch my eye, as I recently threatened him with a red crushed-velvet jacket and matching bow tie. But at least Mandy isn’t wearing leather pants.
Oof. Quick, someone hand me the brain bleach.
“Likewise, my dear. Your beauty is outstanding.” Lifting my hand, he presses a kiss to the back of it.
“Mortimer,” Oliver playfully chastises, lifting it away. “Stop trying to steal my girl with your flattery.” My skin flushes with pleasure. It’s such a tiny reference, but it feels like a huge statement.
“Flattery is all I have left these days, old boy.” He glances at the pretty ceiling for effect. “Oh, but it’s grand getting old.”
“Better than the alternative,” I offer.
“Yes, that’s true. I’m not ready to push up daisies yet.” He hooks his elbow out. “Care to allow an old man to steal you for a while?” He looks to Oliver. “I’ll have her back before the auction starts. Why don’t you go and spend some of that money of yours?”
“Subtlety isn’t your strong point, my lord.”
“Can’t take it with you,” I put in, my hand lifting unconsciously to my tiara. “But don’t buy anything for me.”
“My dear,” Mandy chastises, “that’s a gentleman’s prerogative. Indeed, some would say it’s the only thing he’s good for.”
“Oliver has his uses,” I demur, instantly aware of how that might be taken, and a blush creeps up my neck.
I slip my arm into Mandy’s as Oliver politely coughs.
We commence our grand tour—it’s not my first, but I don’t care. I could spend a year wandering the halls and still not know the place. We stroll through elegant drawing rooms filled with landscape art and portraits, a long saloon (with tapestries), an octagonal one (with ornate plaster and blue silk walls), an immense library, and parlors for every occasion. And everywhere we tread, Mandy has a wealth of information to share.
“This part of the house was modernized in the Palladian style in 1630 by Inigo Jones.”
“So modern.”
“And in the following century, the gardens were redesigned by the famed Capability Brown.”
“Mandy, are you making up people’s names just to impress me?”
“Silly girl.” This earns me a slap to the wrist and a chastising tsk . “Of course you’re impressed.”
“The origins of the house go back farther than that, right?”
“Four centuries,” he confirms as we step out onto the terrace through a set of outsize French doors.
“I am so beyond impressed. Not everyone has a safari park in their backyard. Are those kangaroos in the distance?” I squint through the oncoming darkness.
“We do have them, wallabies, too, but no. The marsupials should be in their enclosure. Unless they’ve escaped. Though I hope not. The bucks have a lethal kick, and I could do without being sued this evening.”
In the cooling air, we stand in silence for a beat before Mandy speaks.
“Not everyone would be suited to a safari park in their backyard, as you say, but I believe it would you.”
I smile his way. “Sadly, I don’t have the cash.”
“But you know someone who does,” he says softly.
Someone who has trouble sharing his space with a dog. Though Oliver objects mainly to sharing pillow space with Bo. Pillow-butt space?
“Someone who is very in love with you.”
I glance his way, wondering where he’s going with this. “You’re sure I can’t see the tigers?”
“Another day.” He pats my hand fondly. “Summer is at an end, and the evening is already too dark to be wandering about in a safari park. Unless you want to be dinner.”
“Eat dinner? Yes. Be dinner? Not so much.”
“My lord.” We both turn to the creak of a door and a man’s voice from inside. “I’m sorry to intrude, but could you spare a moment?”
“Would you excuse me, Eve?”
“Of course. But maybe you could show me the way back to the great hall? It’s that or send out a search party after I get lost.”
Mandy laughs. “You’ll get used to it.” Not sure I’ll need to, but okay. “The simplest way is to stay outside and to walk along the terrace here. That will lead you to the front of the house, and then the hall.”
“Just remember what I said about the search party,” I call as Mandy and his aide disappear through the door.
“No bears,” I whisper, my heels crunching over the red, shiny gravel. “Silly me. I never once asked about wolves.”
But it turns out it isn’t either of those creatures I should be worried about.