Chapter One
“A girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions.”
MONROE
“THE WEDDING IS OFF,” I stuttered out between sobs into the phone, hardly believing it was true, but my empty finger that just an hour ago sported a dazzling diamond ring spoke to the truth of it.
“It’s about bloody time,” Fitz said in his alluring British accent.
I sank deeper into the pillows on my bed in the dark. I hadn’t even had the energy to turn on the lights after the big breakup that had gone down in my condo’s living room. “What do you mean, it’s about time? I thought you liked Tony.” While Fitz wasn’t the warmest of men, I was hoping for at least a little sympathy.
“Whatever gave you that impression?”
“Well, you never said you didn’t like him. For you, that’s huge.”
“That was only me not stating the obvious,” he said dryly.
“Why didn’t you like him?” I asked, almost offended, even though Tony had just broken my heart.
“Where do I start?” Fitz exclaimed with more glee than was customary. “Let’s see: First, his name is generic. Second, he drives a van with a toilet painted on the side. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Shall I go on?”
“Not everyone is blessed with a regal name like yours, Alastair Fitzroy, Duke of Blackthorne.” It was a newish title for him. His father had passed away less than nine months ago. He wasn’t all that comfortable with his new role. To him, it was just something he’d received because of the family he’d been born into and because his father had passed away. He hadn’t earned it. Not like the professorship he was rightfully so proud of. To make him feel better, I’d teased him that he was probably the only duke in world history to have a best friend from Kansas. It made him more distinguished in my opinion. “And the toilet thing is only because he’s a plumber,” I defended Tony. “And a very successful one, mind you. Well, at least he was,” I mumbled, guilt creeping in.
Fitz paused for a couple of beats. “What did you do this time, Monroe?” He knew me all too well.
I twirled some of my long brown hair and curled my shoulders into myself, gripping the phone tightly. “I thought I was helping.”
“That’s usually how it starts for you,” he teased.
He wasn’t wrong. I’d decided over the years that if someone were to ask me what my toxic trait was, I’d have to say jumping in to help anytime I see a problem. While most would normally consider that an admirable attribute, it’s usually cruel and unusual punishment for the recipient in my case, seeing as I always seem to make things worse no matter what country I reside in. Logic would suggest I should just give up trying to help people, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I have my reasons—well, really, one big reason.
“How was I to know that his dad would fire him after I told him Tony thought he should have a bigger share in the company’s profits, seeing as he did most of the heavy lifting and it’s his pretty face on all the commercials and ads?”
“He wasn’t that pretty.” Fitz yawned.
“I’m sorry, it’s the middle of the night for you,” I apologized, forgetting he was several hours ahead of me and I’d most likely woken him up. I just needed to hear his voice, as broody as it was. He was always the calm in my storms. “We can talk later.”
“Monroe,” he said gently, “I wouldn’t have picked up if I hadn’t wanted to talk to you.” Fitz really was the sweetest sometimes, but he didn’t want that character flaw to get around—heaven forbid anyone realize he was human.
“I know,” I sniffled, so thankful for him.
“So, tell me why this pillock just discarded the best thing to ever happen to him?” See? Sweet.
“He said I was always sticking my nose in where it didn’t belong.” I hiccupped. “I know I can be a little much, but I figured since I loved him, my nose belonged with him.”
Fitz chuckled.
“You know what I mean. I just thought that if he was unhappy, I should try to fix it if I could. Why does it seem that every time I try to do a good deed, it backfires?”
“Monroe, you help people all the time—your students, your father, me on occasion when I need a good laugh,” he teased. By students , he meant my voice and piano students, whom I taught in my little studio here in Overland Park, my hometown. I’d finally given in and let Fitz help me acquire the studio I’d dreamed of for so long. I was still paying off the loan to him, even though he said to consider it a gift. But I couldn’t do that. Never did I want our friendship to be about money.
I rolled my eyes. “Are you having a laugh now at my expense?”
“I’d like to think I’m laughing with you. The man is a prat, and you are bloody well better off without him.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
If Fitz had disliked him, it would have given me pause. I couldn’t have my best friend and husband hate each other. Granted, it hadn’t exactly thrilled Tony either that Fitz is my BFF. Just like every other guy in my life. Why can’t a girl have a dishy best friend? Sure, it’s probably off-putting to a boyfriend or fiancé to come face-to-face with Fitz’s gorgeous asymmetrical face, prominent cheekbones, and strong jawline. And then there are his haughty gray eyes that seem to view everyone with disdain . But to those fortunate enough to get close to him, his eyes reflect not only specks of the night sky, but a thoughtfulness like you’d never known or expect. So maybe I understood Tony’s misgivings.
But I’d made sure that Tony unequivocally understood that I didn’t have any romantic notions about Fitz. Or at least I hadn’t in a long time. So, maybe I didn’t mention that. But to be honest, I’m not even sure Fitz realizes I’m a girl, so it didn’t seem necessary to mention long-ago hopes and desires.
Besides, Fitz was meant to be with the Lady Winnifred Roberts’ of the world. And oh, did Lady Whiny want to be Fitz’s one and only. I imagined she someday would be, seeing as the dowager duchess, a.k.a. Fitz’s mum, was dead set on their union. It would be a sad day, to be sure, but Fitz needed an accomplished woman who didn’t make a mess of everything. And then there was Fitz’s declaration that he could never be with an American because we don’t appreciate culture and history enough as a people. And I think he was still salty that the Brits lost the American Revolutionary War. He couldn’t imagine people not wanting to be subjected to a royal monarchy.
All this meant was that Fitz and I were still just friends with the biggest capital F of all time. We’d set an unspoken boundary and adhered to it with precision. And our picture was still in the dictionary under platonic . Or at least it should have been. I should probably give Merriam-Webster a call.
“I couldn’t say anything,” Fitz responded uneasily after an abnormally long pause.
“Why? You’ve always been vocal before about the men I’ve dated.” Come to think of it, he hadn’t liked any of them.
“This was different, Monroe.”
“How?” I wondered aloud.
“That’s neither here nor there.”
I didn’t agree, but my gray short-haired cat jumped up on my bed and curled up next to me, interrupting us. “Hello, Mr. Darcy.” I scratched his head, picturing Fitz curling his lip. He still thought my obsession with Pride and Prejudice was ridiculous. He believed most people failed to grasp the subtle nuances of the beloved novel and therefore had no business fawning over it. I could picture him preaching this tidbit to his students at Oxford. I’m surprised he hadn’t written a book about it yet. Although he had written a history book about Victorian morality, and he’d won some prestigious award—the Wolfson History Prize. Regardless, I didn’t need to understand all the complexities of Pride and Prejudice to know that Mr. Darcy was yummy. But if I said that out loud, Fitz would throw up in his mouth—again.
“You and Pride and Prejudice ,” Fitz grumbled.
“Don’t mock me,” I cried, thinking of my planned honeymoon at Pride and Prejudice Park that would never happen now. It was my dream to visit the beautiful place in Grantham, where all my Pride and Prejudice fantasies would come true. The park was basically Disneyland for Jane Austen superfans who wanted to pretend for a week to live in her world. As soon as I’d learned of its existence, I knew I had to go there.
“Monroe,” his tone softened. “I apologize.”
“You do? That’s so unlike you.”
“I’m making an exception, given your fragile state.”
I giggled. “Thank you for your concession on my behalf. But what am I going to do?” I lamented, thinking of everything I needed to cancel and all the extended family and friends I had to notify that the wedding was off ... and my beautiful dress that I’d already picked out and paid for ... and that honeymoon. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“What do you want to do?” he asked cautiously. He was behaving oddly. Normally, he was someone to give his opinion freely. I guess just not his opinion about Tony. That would have been a nice heads-up.
I gathered Mr. Darcy closer to me, considering Fitz’s question. “Don’t make fun of me, but just today I received my letter from Pride and Prejudice Park informing me they’d chosen me, based on my application and questionnaire answers, to play the coveted role of Elizabeth Bennet.” For one week I would have the chance to live as my favorite heroine, the woman I longed to be like, learning everything from needlework to dancing the cotillion and the English country dance. It was cosplay at its finest. Even though, admittedly, I was probably more of a Jane or maybe even a Kitty. There are some who found me to be silly, forever making a mess of my good intentions to help others. Fitz probably counted himself among those who thought I was ridiculous.
“I suppose that means they were giving the part of Darcy to that imbecile ex-fiancé of yours,” he scoffed.
“Well, yes. But begrudgingly, and only because it was supposed to be our honeymoon and we’d bought a couple’s package,” I stuttered, hardly able to say the word out loud. “In full disclosure, there was a note with the letter that said he was more of a Mr. Wickham, but a member of their staff always plays that part.” I winced.
“Hmm.” Fitz sounded pleased. “Maybe this place has some credibility after all.” He’d made fun of it when I told him a few months ago that I’d begged Tony for it to be our honeymoon destination.
“You thought Tony was a Mr. Wickham, and you said nothing?”
“What did you want me to say? That you were marrying a self-centered arse?”
“Yes,” I raised my voice. “Wait, that’s what you really thought of him?”
“Monroe,” he breathed out. “The man gave little thought to your interests, and worse, he believes Corn Nuts are a food group.”
That last part made the corners of my lips twitch into an almost smile. Granted, the Corn Nuts thing was disgusting, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. “We just had different likes is all,” I protested half-heartedly. But upon further reflection, maybe my love and Tony’s all-American-boy good looks had blinded me to the fact that we weren’t all that compatible. He loved every kind of sport and watched them incessantly, while I loved the theater and music. Which was fine. Once in a while, it was fun to catch a game with him. But only once had he attended a musical with me, and chick flicks were totally off the table. Although, he had agreed to the honeymoon of my dreams—sure, he’d complained about it, but he said he wanted to make me happy.
“As far as I could tell, he didn’t even try to learn to enjoy what you treasure.”
Oh. Wow. That pricked me. “Can you learn how to enjoy something you don’t care about?” I’d never wanted to force my interests on anyone.
“Obviously. How many musicals have I seen with you?” he playfully grumbled.
“So, you are admitting you like them now?”
“Perhaps,” he conceded.
“If that’s the case, get ready for a night of Grease and Grease 2 via Facetime.” I hated that we lived so far apart.
Fitz groaned, and I laughed.
“I should probably go. I have a night of crying ahead of me, and I need to call my dad to let him know the wedding’s off.” Part of me wondered if he would be relieved. Like Fitz, he’d never indicated his feelings about Tony one way or another. All Dad had ever said was if I loved him, that was all that mattered.
“Yes, of course. Tell Foster hello for me.”
Dad loved Fitz. I think the feeling was mutual, even if Fitz would never admit to it. They both shared a fondness for fishing and fencing.
“I will. Thank you for listening to me. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“I’m not.”
His words warmed me in ways only he seemed capable of. “Well, good night.”
“Wait,” Fitz sounded panicked. He’d never sounded that way before—he was Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected. “What will you do about the honeymoon? I’d been hoping to see you when you came to the UK.”
Fitz had informed me that he couldn’t come to my wedding that had been scheduled for September, three months from now, since the university required him to be at faculty meetings. I’d been disappointed, to say the least, but I understood—even though I’d purposefully scheduled my fall-themed wedding for September, knowing that Oxford started school in October. I’d even offered to change the date of my wedding, but the venue I wanted couldn’t accommodate my request.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “It’s nonrefundable, but it seems depressing to go on my honeymoon all by myself.” Tony had told me tonight that I could do whatever I wanted with our honeymoon since it was paid for. I’d brought it up, thinking perhaps it might make him reconsider throwing away our relationship, but apparently Pride and Prejudice wasn’t magical enough to save our wedding.
“Don’t look at it as your honeymoon,” Fitz suggested. “Consider it your dream trip—you should take it.”
I nibbled on my lip and mulled it over. “I suppose I could. The park could probably recast the role of Mr. Darcy. Would that be weird to pretend to fall in love with a stranger on my would-be honeymoon?” What did that say about me? About my feelings for Tony?
“What if it wasn’t a stranger you were pretending with?”
“Who could I convince to go? That’s a big ask. And it might be even weirder to pretend with someone I know.”
“I could go with you,” he coughed out.
I sat up, stunned, jostling my poor kitty out of his slumber. “Did I hear you right? You want to pretend to be Mr. Darcy for a week?” I couldn’t help but snicker, trying to imagine Fitz doing such a thing. I would almost pay money to see it—you know, if I had a lot of money to spare. Then again, he was very much a Mr. Darcy type—intelligent, wealthy, a well-established owner of an estate, and very self-assured. Okay, he was proud—very proud—but also endearing, at least to me.
“It’s not that I want to,” he defended himself. “I’m trying to be a good friend to you. Help you in your time of need.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t take any time off in September.”
He cleared his throat. “Circumstances have changed.”
“How so?” I was a bit miffed, considering he’d been adamant about having to miss my wedding. And he’d been dead set against being my maid of honor and wearing the cute peach tux I’d picked out for him that matched the other bridesmaid dresses.
“Does it really matter? Do you want me to come as your Mr. Darcy or not?”
I leaned back against my headboard and thought for a moment. “It could be a lot of fun, at least for me. I know this isn’t your kind of thing, and you’ll probably mock it the entire time and tell them how inaccurately they’re depicting the time period.”
“Jane Austen is probably rolling over in her grave knowing such a place as Pride and Prejudice Park even exists,” he quipped.
“Or she could really dig it.” I mean, I would. How cool was it that over two hundred years later, she was still an icon and influencing love stories? And her wit is second to none.
“Jane Austen did not dig things. She appreciated them.”
“Pardon my mistake, Duke of Blackthorne.” I only called him by that title to get under his skin. To be honest, it would be most proper to call him Your Grace , but he said he’d never speak to me again if I addressed him that way.
“Monroe,” he huffed, “do you want me to come or not? Of course, I would be happy to pay for my half, or all of it.”
“You don’t have to do that. You do too much for me as it is. Besides, Tony’s already paid for it,” my voice cracked. I still couldn’t believe he’d so easily let me go. He hadn’t even wanted to discuss it. He’d said it wasn’t worth his time since he wouldn’t be changing his mind, which I translated into, You aren’t worth it . Honestly, he seemed to care more about making sure he got the ring back. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to have the time of my life on my honeymoon with my best friend, just to spite Tony. It might even be our last big hurrah, considering Fitz would probably settle down soon with the likes of Lady Winnifred.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t volunteer if I didn’t.”
“You realize you’re going to have to dress like Mr. Darcy and memorize a script, which means you will be ‘talking Darcy’ to me and dancing with me at the balls, right?” I would so giggle if Fitz said things to me like, “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
“I’m well aware, considering how often you’ve mentioned the place in the last several months.”
“And you still want to go with me?” I had to make doubly sure.
“Yes, Monroe,” he said with such sincerity, it caught me off guard.
Huh. Well ... “Okay, Mr. Darcy. I’ll see you in three months.”