says with a sardonic twinkle in his eye that’s not lost on me.
“They’re paying us,” Johnathan says. “Quite handsomely. You should consider it for your wedding.”
Sebastian shakes his head vehemently. “There’s no way I want our wedding to become public fodder.”
“Are you sure? It could be very lucrative for you.” Johnathan scoots forward to the edge of his seat. “In fact, when we met with Heather McCabe at the production company, she mentioned she’d discussed doing a show about saving the house.”
“Martinston?” I ask in surprise.
The news doesn’t come as quite a surprise to Sebastian, however. “I was going to mention it to you, Emma. I wasn’t sure we’d want that level of intrusion in our lives, so I turned them down.”
“Doing another reality show is not exactly top of my list right now,” I reply.
“I imagine not,” he says with a kind smile, and my heart squeezes. “They want to call it Saving Pemberley, can you believe.”
“Of course they do. Pemberley was Mr. Darcy’s house in Pride and Prejudice, and you are Mr. Darcy,” Phoebe points out.
“Is the offer any good?” Johnathan asks.
“We haven’t discussed figures. I didn’t think we’d want to do it,” Sebastian replies.
I chew on my lip. Sebastian has told me how much he was paid for doing Dating Mr. Darcy. Although it wasn’t enough to save his Pemberley, it was definitely enough cash to make my eyes water, that’s for sure. I might not exactly relish the idea of cameras on me once more—and the inevitable judgment that goes with it—but we’re in this together. Maybe I need to put my concerns aside?
“Seb? Why don’t you consider it? It wouldn’t be like having cameras at our wedding or anything. As long as we could control it, we could have them document all the things we’re doing to save the house.”
“Are you considering this, Brady?” Sebastian asks in obvious surprise.
“Maybe?” I reply with a shrug. “If it’s good money, we’d be fools to turn it down for fear of a few nasty memes.”
“You know she’s right, Seb,” Johnathan says.
“But Brady, after all you went through,” Sebastian protests.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” I reply with a sly grin.
Because I am. Despite all the crap they threw at me—at us—I’m still breathing. And what’s more, I’m in love with the most incredible man, living in this amazing house, happy.
I’d say things have worked out pretty well for the contestant who didn’t win the show.
Sebastian takes my hand in his. “You’re wonderful. Did you know that?”
“Either that or a masochist,” I reply with a grin.
Sebastian lets out a low laugh. “I’m going with ‘wonderful.’ But you know Granny would be apoplectic.”
“Oh, she totally would.” An image of a pink-faced Geraldine with steam coming out of her ears springs to mind, and I snort-giggle.
“Why don’t you have a chat to Heather about it?” Johnathan suggests. “I’m sure she’d be keen.”
“Who’s Heather?” I ask.
“She produced Dating Mr. Darcy. We knew her from another life, which is why I thought of Sebastian for the show in the first place,” Johnathan replies. “She’d been looking for Mr. Darcy for months, and when she met Sebastian, she sent me a bottle of my favorite scotch, gushing about how perfect he was for the show.”
I shoot Sebastian a teasing smile. “Bit of a fan, is she?”
“What can I say,” he replies with a shrug. “I can’t help it if women adore me, Brady. It’s a gift.” His grin tells me he’s totally pulling my leg.
I giggle. “That’s what I love about my future husband—he’s so modest.”
“Oh, I like that, Emma. Your future husband,” Phoebe says, her eyes bright.
“He’s also talking out of a hole in his head. Heather has been happily married to my good friend Jeremy for years now. Lives in the suburbs, got a Labrador, three sprogs, the works,” Johnathan replies with a laugh. “There’s no harm in exploring the idea.”
“You’re right,” Sebastian concedes. “As long as we have control, it could work.”
I curve my lips into a smile. Although the idea of another reality show would never appear in a Sound of Music list of my favorite things, it could go a long way to saving the house. And that’s got to be a very good thing.
Chapter 4
That evening, I’m lounging on the couch in front of the empty fireplace in our bedroom, waiting for him to get dressed for dinner while I catch up on work emails. That’s one of the weirder things that happens here at Martinston, we all “dress”