Chapter 18
By six o’clock that evening, the entire contents of my wardrobe were on my bed, having been tried on and discarded. In a panic, I’d rung Freddy, who’d talked me down from my sartorial window ledge and helped me get things a little more into perspective.
‘It’s just dinner,’ she said calmly, her melodic accent adding to the effect.
‘I know. But also it’s not. It’s an interrogation!’
‘Don’t be daft. You said you had fun when you went shopping with him. What’s so different now?’
‘I don’t know. That felt like more of a work-related trip. This feels like something different.’
‘You’re overthinking it, pal. Stop fretting about it and just see it as a free dinner with a good-looking man – who I assume is paying.’
‘I’ll be telling him I’m going halves.’
‘Good luck with that. He’s not the type. More one of those old-fashioned, gallant types.’
‘How would you know? And come to think of it, how do you know he’s good-looking?’
‘Ohhh. So you think he is? Interesting.’
‘No. Not interesting. Most uninteresting, in fact.’
‘Not to me. I know you, remember.’
‘Then you’ll also know that this is the last thing I want to be caught up in. People looking at me and judging.’
‘Who says they’ll be judging?’
I pulled a face as I blobbed foundation on my cheeks and began swirling the brush to blend it in.
‘Fair enough, they will. But feck ’em. You’re his fiancée, not them. He chose you.’
I stopped for a moment and looked at the screen of my phone.
‘No, he didn’t, if you remember. His mother did and none of this is actually real. That’s why it all feels so bloody bizarre!’
I fluffed on some powder then turned back to Freddy. In the corner of my screen, I could see a little picture of me looking like I’d had a fight in a flour factory.
‘And how do you know he’s good-looking anyway?’
‘Er, hello? Google. What do you think they invented it for if not to snoop on your best friend’s fake fiancé?’
‘Ha, ha.’
‘It’ll be fine. Just relax.’
‘Relax, she says,’ as I swiped some eyeshadow on my lids. ‘Relax.’ Mascara next. ‘It’s all very well for you to say relax. You’re not the one going to be cross-examined this evening.’
‘Hon, I think you’re over-dramatising this. He said it was dinner, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then treat it as that. I’m sure if he was planning on an interrogation, he wouldn’t be taking you to a cosy pub.’
‘Maybe,’ I said, gradually climbing down from my self-induced panic station.
‘Definitely. Now show me the finished result.’
I swiped on my lipstick and then stood back from the phone.
Freddy did a chef’s kiss and I let out a breath.
‘Thanks. I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up about it all. I’m not sure I’ve ever got this nervous on a real date, let alone a fake one.’
She wiggled her head. ‘Not exactly a fake date. Real date with your fake fiancé.’
‘Not helping.’
She grinned then rested her chin on her hand as I squirted hand cream on and rubbed it in. That had been one good thing about advertising: it was definitely kinder to your hands and nails.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Umhmm.’ I replaced the lid on the tube and stood it back on the antique silver tray on the rosewood dressing table.
‘Do you like him?’
‘He’s nice enough, I guess. Seems decent. Apart from dragging me into all this but in fairness, he was dragged into it just as unwillingly so I can’t really blame him for that. Why do you ask?’
‘I just wondered if that’s what the nerves are about. That maybe you do actually really like him…’
‘Oh! Oh no! Definitely not that. Not in that way, no.’
‘That’s a no, then.’
‘Yes. It’s a no. An emphatic one.’
‘Perhaps too emphatic?’
I rolled my eyes and then glanced towards the window where I could see a car approaching.
‘Oh bugger, he’s nearly here. I have to go.’
‘Call me later.’
‘Yep!’ I hurriedly blew her a kiss, grabbed the phone and my bag and scurried down the stairs.
I’d just pulled on my wedge-slightly-posher-than-trainers-shoes when Edward knocked on the door. I pulled it open.
‘Just coming!’ I said. One arm was in the sleeve of my jacket but the other was resolutely refusing to comply.
‘Here.’ Edward laid a hand on one shoulder in a bid to stop my turning as I tried to follow the sleeve around and catch it up. A moment later, with his assistance, I was ready to go.
‘Thanks.’
‘My pleasure.’
Reaching the car, he opened the door and I boosted myself into the Range Rover before he closed it behind me and walked around the bonnet to the other side.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
The pub was picture-book quaint and as I stepped in in front of Edward and was struck by the wonderful atmosphere.
Well-aged leather sofas and chairs were positioned in one part, filled with people laughing, chatting and looking entirely relaxed.
Several of them glanced up at the newcomers and gave Edward a wave, which he returned.
To the other side of the bar, a dining area was set up with solid-looking, pale wood tables and cushioned chairs.
Candles burned at each setting along with a posy of fresh flowers. I loved it.
‘Edward, my man.’ The bartender smiled widely and held out a hand that was large and tattooed. His head was shaved, bar a short Mohican and several earrings hung from one ear, along with three in his eyebrow.
‘Gerry. Good to see you.’ Edward shook his hand, the clear warmth of friendship radiated between them.
‘And you, Eddie.’
Edward laughed. It had never occurred to me that he might be an Eddie. I’d never heard anyone refer to him as such either and by the expression of mirth on his face, it was clear that Gerry was the only one that did so.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘We’ve got a dinner reservation.’
Gerry turned and consulted a ledger behind him before returning to face us. ‘So you do. For two.’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Rumours are true then?’ He gave me a cheeky wink. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Gerry. Eddie and I went to school together.’
Without consultation, my face took on a mildly shocked expression at the statement as I shook his hand.
‘I know. Seems unlikely, eh?’
Gerry’s tones were still well spoken but with the edges knocked off whereas Edward’s edges were still straight as a die.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—’
He cut me off. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s a shock to anyone new to the area. But he’s a good man, your chap.’
It felt extremely odd for someone to refer to Edward as ‘my chap’ and I fumbled for a suitable reply.
‘Very good to hear!’ I nodded emphatically. ‘Very good indeed. Thanks.’
Gerry and Edward were now both looking at me and I wanted to find the nearest cellar trapdoor and launch myself down it.
‘I’ll show you to your table,’ Gerry said, still smiling as he lifted the bar hatch and led the way through to the dining area. ‘This one all right?’
‘Perfect, thanks,’ Edward replied.
‘Great. Hannah will be along shortly but can I get you some drinks in the meantime? Champagne perhaps?’ The cheeky grin was back.
‘Emmeline?’ Edward looked to me.
‘Umm, oh, I, er…’
‘I’ve been perfecting my cocktail skills. Let me make you one of those.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t really planning on having alcohol tonight.’
‘You driving?’
‘No, I am,’ Edward said.
‘Come on, then. Just one. I’ve got a new recipe I’m happy with. It’s not got a name yet though but if you like it maybe I could call it The Emmeline.’
I let out a nervous laugh.
‘Don’t let him bully you into something you don’t want,’ Edward said good naturedly. ‘If you want a soft drink, that’s fine.’
‘Of course.’ Gerry backed down. ‘Sorry. I get a bit excited about my creations.’
I paused. ‘I’ll have an Emmeline, thank you.’
The barman’s smile lit his face as he turned to his friend. ‘You’ve got yourself a good one there, mate. About time. Pint of lime and soda for you?’
‘Thanks.’
‘Coming up.’
Gerry made his way back to the bar and I kept my head down, opening the menu and pretending to study it.
Gerry’s comments about ‘my chap’ and Edward ‘having a good one’ had unnerved me a little.
Suddenly, the little charade seemed very real and I wasn’t entirely sure how it was going to play out, or if I could keep it up for as long as Edward had suggested.
Surely people would guess there was something fishy before long.
I had always been a horrible liar and I hated doing so.
‘Sorry about all that.’ Edward’s voice, soft and gentle, broke into my thoughts.
‘It’s fine,’ I trotted out automatically.
‘It’s not really and I’m aware how awkward this is. I hoped this evening might be a chance to release some of that awkwardness from our relationship.’
I looked up from the menu. His eyes were on me.
‘By getting to know each other more. Feeling a little more comfortable in each other’s company.’ He gave a small chuckle. ‘I actually enjoyed our shopping trip that day and, believe me, those are not words I would usually utter.’
My gaze returned to the menu. ‘It was fun, I agree. I suppose…’ I looked back up to find him still watching me. ‘I suppose for a while, I forgot who you were and we were just two people shopping and having a meal together.’
‘And now?’
‘Now… I’m a rubbish actor, Edward. I’m just not sure this is going to work.’
He gave a couple of nods of acceptance. ‘I do realise I’m asking a lot of you.’
A random thought spiralled past in my brain that many women would kill to be in this position: having to spend time with a very handsome, rich and titled man.
But that wasn’t me. I’d grown up as an army brat and although I’d been brought up with good manners – my mum had been a stickler for it – I was already panicking about meals that might have various courses and an array of cutlery to pick from.
I had no inclination to make myself a laughing stock over this.
‘What’s worrying you?’
‘Hmm?’ I asked, Edward’s words cutting into my mounting panic.
‘You’re clearly turning something over in your mind, and from your grim expression, it’s not a particularly welcome thought.’
I lifted my gaze. ‘Edward, I—’