Chapter Three
“ . . . for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”
MONROE
“THANK YOU FOR PICKING ME up and changing our plans last minute.” I admired Fitz, dressed impeccably as usual in a tweed jacket and jeans that he’d probably purchased at his favorite shop, the House of Bruar. Given the early hour, the sun had yet to make its appearance as he drove us adeptly out of Heathrow in his Land Rover, the lights of oncoming traffic shining brightly in our eyes. Fitz was awfully quiet, even for him, and it made me wonder if I had annoyed him—again. I knew he didn’t exactly appreciate my, let’s say, eccentric ways. And I’d heard what the people in the airport crowd had said about me. I should probably have been more embarrassed than I was. Sure, it bothered me, but I’d learned after my experience at our fancy private school that people were going to talk no matter what I did. Might as well live my life. Although, I did feel bad knowing that Fitz didn’t and couldn’t live his life with that freedom. I understood his new title brought with it a strict code of conduct.
“Are you upset with me? I’m sorry we didn’t get to visit your estate. I was hoping to see Anna and Kingston.” Kingston was his estate manager, and I adored him. He was Fitz’s confidant and one of his few friends, even though Kingston was ten years his senior. “And maybe your mum,” I added, but squinted while saying it. Even though I loved saying mum . I’d just adopted the phrase when it came to his mother. Beatrix, the dowager duchess, admittedly terrified me. From our very first meeting years ago, she’d decided she didn’t like me. Maybe it was that her beloved dogs, both Cavalier King Charles spaniels, seemed to prefer me over her. Or more than likely, it was that I was just a commoner who lacked proper breeding, in her estimation. Apparently she didn’t love that I had the audacity to hug her at our first meeting and say, “It’s so nice to meet you, Mum B.” She’d coolly replied that I should address her at all times as Your Grace . I wasn’t sure now if that still applied, given her husband’s recent passing. I had a hard time remembering the formalities of English nobility, which didn’t work in my favor, at least not where Fitz’s mum was concerned.
Fitz glanced my way. “I’m not upset with you. Only disappointed that our time has been cut short.”
I felt terrible about that. But that poor pregnant mom with two toddlers had looked so exhausted, I’d felt compelled to rescue her. Of course, it turned out to be the opposite of helpful. I really should give up trying to improve people’s lives. But then what if I stopped and something truly horrific happened that I could have, should have, prevented? I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive myself for not stepping in. I still hadn’t forgiven myself for Mom. “Maybe I can stay an extra day and let your mum berate my appearance and manners,” I teased.
Fitz’s lips twitched into an almost smile while he reached over and took my hand. “I’d like that.”
Our fingers intertwined with ease, as if it were natural for us to do. Except it wasn’t—I couldn’t think of a time we had ever held hands. Fitz wasn’t normally one for physical affection unless I pushed it on him. I looked down at our clasped hands on my thigh, and a comfort like none other washed over me. This was a nice addition to our friendship. I liked it. A lot. “You like the idea of me staying an extra day, or the thought of your mum berating me?” I jested.
“I think you know the answer to that.” He’d been apologetic about his mum’s behavior in the past. It grated on him, but he knew there was no changing her mind about me.
I had to wonder why she so vehemently despised me. Fitz and I were only friends, after all. It wasn’t like I was trying to take the place of her favorite candidate for daughter-in-law. Beatrix couldn’t extol the virtues of Lady Winnifred Roberts enough, from her elegance in every way to her accomplishments—she spoke ten languages, including Latin—to her pedigree and connections. Lady Whiny’s father was the 10 th Earl of Alexander, and her mother was one of Beatrix’s dearest friends. I think both mothers had been salivating at the thought of a union between the families since Fitz’s birth a month following Lady Winnifred’s. The thought of Fitz marrying her made me squeeze his hand, knowing that one day we could no longer be so affectionate with each other. I had a feeling that our time together this next week would be one to treasure, our last big hurrah as the best of friends. There was something in the air that intimated things would be changing between us. I supposed it was inevitable.
“How are Anna and Kingston?” I asked.
Fitz chuckled. “You tell me. I think you talk to Anna and Kingston more than I do.”
That was probably true. “Well, let’s see. Anna is doing well. I’m hoping to see her when she comes to the States on tour—one of the benefits of having a famous concert pianist as a friend.” I smiled. “She also let it slip that you were just named one of Britain’s hottest, most eligible bachelors. Congratulations, by the way.” I’d been waiting to talk to him about it so I could see his disdain in person. “Anna thinks you’re upset because you lost the top spot to Viscount Phillips,” I goaded him, knowing exactly how much he hated this kind of attention, that he couldn’t care less who garnered the top spot as long as it wasn’t him.
“That ridiculous list,” he grumbled.
I giggled and reached over with my free hand to grab his chin and shake his handsome face. It was a little awkward, but I didn’t want to let go of his hand. After the past few months, I needed this connection. I needed him. “I’m sorry you have to bear the heavy weight of dashing good looks and wealth.”
As soon as I dropped my hand, Fitz gave me an aggravated look.
“In other news,” I sang, “I called Kingston last week, and he refused to tell me if you’d been practicing your script. Are you ready to talk Darcy to me?”
Fitz cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I’ve memorized all my lines.”
“Ooh. Very good. Let’s practice them.”
“Absolutely not.” Fitz switched lanes, barely glancing in the mirrors. It was as if the surrounding traffic knew the Duke of Blackthorne needed to get over and gave him the respect he was due.
“Why not?” I asked.
Fitz thought for a moment, shifting in his seat. “If we say them now, it will ruin the experience for you.”
I scrunched my nose at him. “Uh, do you even know me? I’ll enjoy it both now and when we act out those scenes. Besides, the schedule has rehearsal times listed on it. Might as well get a jump on it—we are the main characters, after all.”
“Monroe,” he breathed out, clearly agitated.
I didn’t get to ask him why he was so upset because a call came through the car’s audio system. Kington’s name popped up on the in-dash screen.
Fitz took the out and released my hand to click on the answer button. “Hello, Kingston.”
“Your Grace, I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“Kingston, how many times do I need to tell you that you can address me by my first name?”
“Or just call him Fitz,” I interjected, mischievously grinning at Fitz, who looked affronted at the thought of anyone else calling him by the nickname I had given him.
“I would never, madam,” Kingston said, as dignified as possible.
“You know I’m just teasing you.” I would tell him to quit calling me madam , but I knew he would refuse.
“Yes, Miss Monroe. You arrived safely, then.”
“I forgot to text you. I’m so sorry. Yes, I’m here with His Grace.” I winked at Fitz, who didn’t look amused at all. He hated it when I was so formal with him. Although he hadn’t made good on his threat of never speaking to me again if I called him Your Grace .
“Very good, madam. That was the reason for my call. You weren’t answering your phone, and I wanted to make sure all was well.”
“You are the sweetest. I love you.”
Fitz threw me a scathing glance. “Is that all, Kingston?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I mean Alastair, sir.”
“Don’t go yet,” I interjected quickly. “You need to tell me if you heard Fitz practice his lines. Does he make a good Darcy?” I giggled.
“I wouldn’t know, madam,” he stammered.
“That’s too bad. Well, I’ll let you know how he did when the week is over. I’m going to extend my stay so I can come to Blackhaven. I can’t wait to see you.”
“I look forward to it, Miss Monroe.”
“That will do. Goodbye, Kingston.” Fitz hung up on him unceremoniously.
“Why did you do that?” I complained. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
Fitz whipped his head my way, taking his eyes off the road for the briefest moment. “Are you in love with Kingston?”
“What? No,” I laughed. “Why would you think that?”
“You just said I love you, and you talk to each other more than is necessary.”
I tilted my head. “More than is necessary?”
“You know what I mean,” he said, flustered, so unlike his usual dignified demeanor.
“Clearly, I don’t.” I could hardly keep from snickering. I’d never seen Fitz like this. It was almost as if he were jealous, but that couldn’t be the case.
“It’s just not proper. He’s my estate manager and you’re my best mate. Not to mention, he’s too old for you.”
I broke out into fits of giggles, so much that I could hardly say, “Not proper? Why? Because I’m American and he’s British? And I don’t think a ten-year age gap is enough to raise any eyebrows.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Actually, it is.” I got my snickering under control. “But there’s no need to worry. I don’t have any designs on Kingston. Besides, Anna loves Kingston, and he loves her.”
Fitz’s eyes widened incredulously. “That’s impossible. He’s twelve years older than Anna, and he’s ... well ...”
“He’s not of Anna’s station,” I stated what he was reluctant to say. Fitz, while proud, wasn’t a snob, as evidenced by the fact he encouraged his estate manager to call him by his given name. You wouldn’t find one employee of the estate who would say a negative thing about him. And it wasn’t because they were afraid of losing their positions—they genuinely thought him to be a good man. And he was, albeit a tad grumpy.
“It would be complicated,” was all he would offer. “But it doesn’t matter, because those feelings don’t exist between them.” His grip on the steering wheel told a different story than his lips.
I shrugged, knowing I was right, but seeing no need to argue about it—Anna was reluctant to admit her feelings, and Kingston would feel it a disgrace to do so. It was a sad situation. I’d offered to help move things along, but Anna had begged me not to. Probably because she knew of my terrible track record when it came to assisting people. Yet the longing I’d witnessed between the two was heart-achingly beautiful. I wasn’t sure a man had ever gazed as adoringly at me as Kingston looked at Anna. There had to be something I could do—perhaps if I got Fitz to give his blessing, it would help. I’d try to work on it this week, but first, I needed his opinion on my costumes.
I unbuckled my seat belt. “I want to try my costumes on for you while it’s still dark outside.”
Fitz startled, alarmed. “Put your seat belt back on. It’s not safe.”
“I’ll be fine.” I carefully climbed into the back seat. “I need you to tell me if the dresses show too much cleavage.”
“You’re going to undress in the back seat?” he spluttered.
“That’s the plan.” I situated myself in a luxurious captain’s seat and grabbed one of the dresses Fitz had laid on the seat next to me.
“In front of me?” His shocked eyes met mine in the rearview mirror.
“Just keep your eyes on the road. And even if you peek, it’s not like I’ve ever been handsome enough to tempt you.” I threw in a little P&P reference for the fun of it.
“Is that what you think?” He sounded upset.
“Uh ...” The bite in his tone took me aback. “I just assumed you didn’t find me attractive.”
“Of course I find you attractive,” he spat before his tone softened. “It is many years since I have considered you one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”
“Oh my gosh. You did memorize your lines. You speak Darcy well,” I gushed, feeling a little fluttery. Which was weird—not a bad weird, but definitely strange. I hadn’t felt that way around him for a long time. I’d buried those long-ago hopes deep, deep down in my heart, knowing any romantic notions would only torment me and place a wedge in our friendship. And to be honest, any other romantic attachments as well. It would have been wholly unfair to compare another man to Fitz. In a picture dictionary, Fitz’s photo would be next to demigod .
“That’s not Darcy,” Fitz said, offended. “That’s me.” He exhaled dramatically. “Monroe, you’re beautiful.”
I reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You really think so?”
Fitz patted my hand. “I’ve always thought so.”
“Wow. I had no idea. Thank you, Fitz. Honestly, I’ve been feeling a little down on myself lately.” Not that looks should define you, but I had questioned if maybe I was unattractive. When your fiancé breaks up with you, it kind of messes with your head.
“Please don’t tell me it’s because of that prat Tony.”
I sank back into the seat and sighed. “Maybe. You know, I was supposed to get married two days ago.”
“Are you still trying to get over him? Do you still love him?” Fitz steeled himself, waiting for my reply.
“Weirdly, no. Which I know doesn’t reflect well on my character. Ugh,” I lamented. After some serious soul-searching the last few months, I’d realized that Fitz was right—Tony didn’t treasure the things I did. Our relationship had been pretty superficial, and I cringed, knowing I’d thought myself in love. “What if I’m really a Lydia?” This question had plagued me, especially since Pride and Prejudice Park deemed Tony a Mr. Wickham. I could totally live with being a Jane, perhaps even a Mary or Kitty. But never Lydia. Of course, like most women, I wanted to be an Elizabeth, and I hoped I was. But I bet she wouldn’t have shown up to the airport to meet a duke wearing three bonnets with dresses draped around her shoulders.
“Monroe,” Fitz said my name with some of the tenderness he rarely showed. “You’re no Lydia. She was selfish, and you are anything but.”
“But am I an Elizabeth? What if they cast me wrong and I ruin the entire experience for everyone?” It was the last thing I wanted to do.
Fitz caught my eye in his rearview mirror, his lips ticking up into an almost smile. “As long as you don’t try to help anyone, you should be fine.”
“Oh, ha ha. I’m being serious.”
“So am I, love.” There was zero hint of teasing in his tone.
Huh. Fitz had never called me love before. Not that it meant anything—plenty of Brits used the term casually. Fitz wasn’t usually flippant about these things, so I was sure it was just a slip of the tongue. Hmm. “Fitz, please. Do you think I can be Elizabeth?”
He thought for a moment. “Monroe, you are headstrong, and you do have fine eyes.”
I smiled at the compliment, more so that Fitz had even noticed I have eyes.
“You adore your father, and you don’t let anyone tell you how to live your life,” he continued. “And her own Mr. Wickham even managed to fool Elizabeth Bennet for a time, despite being warned about him. You had no such warning. The only thing you lack is her pride and her prejudices, but I’ve always admired that about you.”
He had no idea how much better he was making me feel. Especially since ... “I think Tony did fool me. I ran into his mom last week, and she made a weird comment after telling me how much she missed me. She said that as much as it pained her not to have me as a daughter-in-law, her son didn’t deserve me after what he’d done to their family. When I asked what she meant, she wouldn’t say, and just ran off crying. I’ve been wondering what he did ever since.”
Fitz breathed out loudly, to the point of almost snarling. “The man is a bloody knobhead. Don’t let him consume any more of your thoughts.”
“Knobhead?” I giggled, even though I knew it meant an idiot.
“Yes. Knobhead.” He grinned.
“Fitz, thanks for coming on my honeymoon with me.” It was the best I could do to express how much this meant to me, how much he meant to me.
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Well, I should probably make this the best honeymoon ever, just in case I never get another. Which means I need to be the best Elizabeth ever, so you need to tell me if I have too much cleavage going on in these dresses.”
Fitz groaned, and I laughed. It was pretty much how our friendship went. And now, more than ever, I was thankful that Fitz was my very best friend. Especially when he said, “Monroe, this will not be your only honeymoon.”
“You don’t know that.”
Fitz stopped at a light and turned my way, owning me with his gaze in a way he never had before. “I promise you, this won’t be your only honeymoon.”
I opened my mouth to say he couldn’t promise something like that, but before I could utter a word, he said, “Trust me.”
I nodded because it was the only thing I could do. Something in his tone told me he spoke the truth. But how could he know that?
“Can you tell me if the groom will be cute?” I joked.
He gave me an impish grin before turning around. It was almost as if he knew this mystery man.
“Do you have someone in mind?” I couldn’t help but ask.
He said nothing, just drove on.
I sat back and pondered whom he had in mind to be so sure. Was he thinking? No ... it couldn’t be. Could it?