“Sparkling water is great.”
I point at a charcuterie board set up between the two chaise lounges.
“There are nibbles, but I didn’t order food yet—I thought you might want to look at the menu first.”
“In a minute. Let’s sit.” She stretches out on one of the loungers. “Wow,” she says. “The sunset is going to be amazing.”
I sit down on the other chaise. There’s a breeze, and her scent floats over to me.
“You always smell incredible,” I tell her. “Like magnolias.”
“Good nose. My perfume is literally calledEau de Magnolia. Far too expensive but a girl’s got to live.”
I note this is the second time she’s mentioned her finances. I hope she’s not in dire straits, but the Brit in me cringes at frank talk of money, so I don’t ask.
“My parents have a big magnolia tree in Hampshire,” I say. “I associate the smell with my childhood.”
“I thought you grew up in London.”
“I did, but we have a family house in the countryside. Spent summers there.”
“Do you have an ancestral manor?” she asks wryly, like she expects the answer to be no.
“Uh, yes, actually,” I admit. I always feel sheepish revealing my family’s aristocratic background. The way I grew up is absurdly privileged.
“Really?” Hope asks. “How ancient?”
“Eighteenth century–ish.”
Her eyes widen. “Does it have a name?”
“Downton Abbey.”
“Be serious.”
“It’s technically called Elswale Court. But no one calls it that.”
“Next you’re going to tell me you’re a duke.”
“Definitely not a duke.” I hesitate, not sure whether to tell her the full truth. But if she finds out later it will be strange that I didn’t. So I add: “Just the lowly son of a baronet.”
“Wait. Your dad’s a baronet? Really?”
“Yep.”
“So that means in the event of his unfortunate passing…”
“I will become a baronet, yes.”
“This is incredible. Now I want to deviously marry you for your title.”
“This is the most stereotypically American you’ve ever acted,” I say, ignoring the marrying me for my title part. People have, unfortunately, wanted to do just this in the past.
“You’re a British gentleman with an eighteenth-century manor house called Elswale Court andI’mthe caricature? Anyway, Lady Hope Gertrude Segrave has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Your middle name isGertrude?”
“I’m afraid so.”
