Marrying Mr. Darcy (Love Manor #2) - Kate O'Keeffe Page 0,6

heart.” She does the same kissing routine with me. I’m no good at the no touch air kiss thing and end up bumping my cheek against hers with a slap. “How perfectly lovely it is to see you back at Martinston, Emma. How was Texas? Your business? Family? All wonderful, I hope.”

One thing I’ve learned about Jilly is that she’s a whirlwind. A beautiful, well-meaning, extremely privileged whirlwind who happens to look like she could be on the cover of Tatler, but a whirlwind all the same.

Not that I feel insecure around her or anything.

“Everything’s great. Thanks, Jilly,” I reply with a bright smile.

“Marvelous, darling. So glad to hear it. You know I adore you.” She sits down on one of the couches and lets out a pretty sigh. “I’ve just been with your mother,” she says to Sebastian. “I cannot tell you both how trying this exhibition opening fundraiser has become. All the infighting and game playing. It’s enough to make one want to poke one’s eyes out with a blunt instrument. Perhaps a spoon or one of those things doctors use to check reflexes. What are those called?”

I shoot Sebastian a look. Jilly is nothing if not descriptive.

“Reflex checkers?” I offer. I’ve got no clue, and I’ve definitely never thought of poking my eyes out with them before.

“If it wasn’t for the fact it’s your father’s foundation, Sebby, I’m not sure I’d dedicate my weekends quite so readily to the cause.”

Whenever she calls him “Sebby” I’ve always got to work hard at not rolling my eyes. The guy’s thirty-one, not a two-year-old in diapers and a playsuit (even though my heart melts at the thought of him as a cute toddler, all chubby-cheeked and unsure on his feet. Can I get an “Awwwww?”).

“I tell you, your mother is a saint to have put up with these women for so long.”

“Mother does have the patience of a nun,” Sebastian replies with a smile.

“Well, I admire her immensely after working with Portia Fortescue-Seymour and Cecily Parker-Smithston. Beastly women! Not that I didn’t admire your mother before, of course. Jemima’s a real brick.”

My questioning eyes find Sebastian’s. “Is being a brick a good thing?”

“It is,” he confirms as he takes a seat next to me on a couch, our thighs lightly touching.

“Oh, Emma, you still have so much to learn about we English. We have a lot of expressions and habits that you won’t be at all acquainted with.”

“Actually, we were just talking about the differences between American and British English over dinner last night, weren’t we?” He gives my knee a squeeze and happiness bubbles up inside me.

“We were.” I feel all goofy and in love as our gazes lock.

“You simply must come to the exhibition opening, Emma. It will be such fun!”

“You’ve not exactly sold it,” I reply.

“Oh, I’m frustrated, that’s all,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “All the Huntington-Rosses will be there, of course, as well as my family and anyone who’s anyone in the country set. It’ll be good for you to get to know who’s who around here, now that you’re here for how long this time?”

I glance at Sebastian, and he smiles back at me. Happiness makes me tingle all over. “Penny and I decided to try to break into the British market, so I’m here for a while. I even brought Frank.”

“Who the devil is Frank?”

“My tabby cat. He’s somewhere around here.”

“A cat? How lovely.”

The door to the library opens once more and three generations of Huntington-Ross women walk into the room. Zara, (aka Chef Henri), Geraldine, his granny, and Jemima, his mom.

Geraldine is protesting loudly about something, which is nothing new. Not exactly your warm and cuddly type, Sebastian’s granny is more of a look-down-one’s-nose-at-you-from-such-a-great-height-one-is-in-fear-of-vertigo type of person. I’m definitely one of the minions where she’s concerned, despite my relationship with her grandson.

I’m hopeful our engagement announcement will help change all that.

“Darling, I don’t understand why you’re herding us in this fashion. The library is your least favorite room in the house,” Geraldine complains. “In fact, I don’t think you’ve opened a book since you were at boarding school, and even then, it was only under duress. I do love you, but you’re so awfully intellectually benighted, Zara.”

“Benighted?” I mouth to Sebastian, wondering if the word’s got something to do with knights and maidens and the like. He simply pulls a face and shrugs.

Geraldine loves to use words I’ve never heard of, and I spend half my time when I’m