Marrying Mr. Darcy (Love Manor #2) - Kate O'Keeffe Page 0,15
delightful. “I see your cat is here, too.” She purses her lips as she regards him with suspicion.
“It’s Frank,” I say to remind her of his name. “He’s real friendly.”
“Yes. I can see that.”
“She wasn’t inebriated, as you put it, Granny,” Zara protests as Frank nestles on her lap. See? Total traitor. “Well, no more than she usually is on a Tuesday.”
“We’re talking about Tabitha, aren’t we?” Sebastian hands me a glass of red wine. Although he knows I prefer a beer, I think Granny would implode from class-induced shock if she saw me suck on a bottle in Martinston’s grand reception room with its ornate high ceilings, antique furniture, and gilded paintings.
Trying hard to win her over here, remember?
“How did you know I’m talking about Tabitha?” Zara asks him.
He shrugs. “Just a wild hunch.”
“Did I see Johnathan here earlier?” Jemima asks.
“He popped by with Phoebe, which was such a nice surprise. I didn’t think we’d get to see them before their wedding,” I reply.
“You’re a bridesmaid, aren’t you?” Jemima says.
“I am.” I think of the tasteful blush-colored, three-quarter length dress with the off-the-shoulder detailing and pretty bow. I sent my measurements to Phoebe, and she’s had it made by a wedding store in a village near Johnathan’s family’s home. It’s not very me, but it’s very Phoebe—feminine, sweet, beautiful, and refined. Apparently, the other bridesmaids and the maid of honor are all Phoebe’s sisters and cousins, so I’m honored she asked me. And also deeply thankful she didn’t ask the more horrible contestants from the show, Hayley and Camille. Although I hear they’re invited to the wedding.
I bet they’re super excited to see me, the girl who got sent home before the top four contestants and then ended up with the guy anyway.
I take a sip of my wine. “Their wedding is only a few weeks away, can you believe? They’re having it filmed for TV.”
“Really?” Jemima exclaims as Zara says, “How cool!” and Geraldine pulls a face that needs no words.
“I for one don’t understand it,” Sebastian says as he sits down next to me. “Why would you want something as personal as your wedding made into a TV show?”
“This from the man who allowed the search for his bride to be made into a public game show,” Granny scoffs. “Really, Sebastian. You can be quite paradoxical at times.”
“That’s not fair, Granny, and you know it,” Zara protests. “Seb was only trying to help save our home. Without him we’d all have been turned out onto the street a long time ago. The fact he fell in love with the lovely Emma on the show was simply an added bonus.”
I grin at her and mouth the words “thank you” discretely. Did I mention how much I like Sebastian’s kid sister?
“If only it were enough,” Sebastian says.
“We’d hardly be on the street,” Jemima protests. “Would we?”
Granny scoffs. “The idea is preposterous. Huntington-Rosses have held a position of power and influence in this country for hundreds of years. We’re not going to become street urchins, selling posies and sweeping chimneys for a living.”
Geraldine clearly thinks we all live in a Charles Dickens novel.
“Of course not, Granny. Emma and I have been talking about how we can make some more money,” Sebastian begins. “We’ve got some ideas.”
“Ooh, I know! Emma could pose topless for the tabloids,” Zara suggests, although I know she cannot be serious.
Can she?
I open my mouth to tell her I won’t be doing anything of the sort when Jemima protests with, “Zara! Please. No one associated with this family is going topless.”
Geraldine looks aghast.
Zara shrugs. “It’s a big thing here. Emma might not know about that.”
I glance down at my meagre cleavage. There’s nothing “big” about it.
Zara clears her throat. “I meant a lot of reality TV stars do that sort of thing,” she clarifies. “Tabitha has a friend whose friend did it, and she made a mint.”
“Yup. Got it. Not gonna happen.” I shake my head fervently.
Geraldine is gawking at me with an appalled expression on her face, like this whole posing topless thing was my idea.
Zara shrugs. “I thought I’d check all the same. Desperate times and all that.”
“We’re not that desperate,” Geraldine quips.
I raise my hands in the stop sign. “As I said, it’s not gonna happen, so you can all chill.”
“What were your ideas, you two?” Jemima asks, deflecting the conversation in a far less embarrassing direction.
Sebastian nods encouragingly at me.
“Well, as an absolute minimum, I think you need to open the house and