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 parkandPemberley? 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 bitcheslovea 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 callover 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.”
