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Lord Dominic Beresford sat in the bus driver’s seat.
‘What are you—’ The words echoed around the bus and she fumbled for the off switch on the microphone. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered.
Dominic grinned at her. ‘Sylvia’s always wanted to take one of these tours. So I commandeered a tour bus. We figured you could do the guide bit for old times’ sake.’ As if that were the most normal thing in the world.
Faith glanced back. A bus full of tourists stared at her, cameras and guidebooks at the ready. ‘For the love of... You stole a tour bus? You? Lord Beresford?’
‘Borrowed,’ Dominic corrected. Starting the engine, he checked his mirrors and put the bus in gear. ‘You remember that night you showed me your London?’
As if she could ever forget. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, today I’m going to show you mine.’ The bus pulled away from the kerb. ‘Come on, tour guide, aren’t you supposed to be talking into that thing?’
Faith stared at the microphone in her hand. ‘I don’t know where we’re going.’
‘Yes you do,’ Dominic said, and started to drive.
* * *
Dominic wiped the palm of his hand against his trousers before grabbing the steering wheel again. In his pocket, the hard lump of the ring box dug into him, a sharp-edged reminder of exactly what craziness he was pursuing. Oh, not the proposal, exactly. That, he was certain about. But the method... How had he thought this was a good idea?
Maybe it wasn’t. But it was the only chance he had of convincing Faith he was serious. If nothing else, she couldn’t worry about his fear of embarrassment any longer. Nothing she could ever do could humiliate him more than what he was about to do. Especially since he suspected his sister would be secretly filming the whole thing to share with the Internet.
Beside him, Faith had begun her tour, talking in only a slightly wobbly voice about the landmarks they passed. He’d decided to start off with the usual tour route, down past St Paul’s and Fleet Street before he detoured over the river after the Tower of London. Faith still knew this route backwards, she’d told him on their tour of her London, and, for now, he was happy to let her talk, feel comfortable. As if this really was an official tour with an unusual driver.
‘The Tower of London has a long and varied history,’ Faith said, and Dominic risked a glance out of his window at the landmark. Maybe he’d take her there one day, just to listen to her get excited about the stories the building could tell. ‘Most notably, of course, it’s known as the site of the murder of the princes in the tower...’
Not romantic enough, Dominic decided. Time to start the plan properly.
Swinging the bus over to the other lane, he headed for the bridge over the Thames, ignoring Faith’s murmured protest. Then, as they crossed over the water, she put her hand over the microphone. ‘You’re going the wrong way.’
‘I’m really not.’
‘They usually go along to Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament next,’ she argued.
Dominic flashed her a smile. ‘Trust me. I know exactly where we’re going. Now, give me the microphone.’
‘What?’ She grabbed it closer to her chest at his request.
‘Put it on the stand there so I can talk into it,’ he said, nodding towards the steering wheel.
‘What are you going to say?’ she asked, but she did install the microphone as he’d asked.
‘I’m not a hundred per cent sure yet,’ Dominic admitted. ‘But I’m sure I’ll figure it out as I go along.’
* * *
Figure it out as he went along. Faith was pretty sure Dominic had never figured out anything as he went along. The man liked to have a plan. A fixed, unchanging, reputation-saving plan. So what on earth was he doing?
