A flicker of amusement falls across Paul’s normally professional face. “You could say that, sir.”
“Ready?” I turn and look at Elle, and she gives me a bright smile and a determined nod. “Right, lead the way, Paul. Let’s get this over and done with.”
Paul nods and asks us to follow him. We step over the threshold of my family home, and it seems relatively quiet down the long corridors.
“They are out the back, sir,” Paul tells us.
We turn left down the corridor from the entry, past the antique paintings that line the walls, past the library, the parlor room, and a drawing-room until we finally get to the conservatory, which leads us out to the garden area. As soon as Paul opens the glass doors, my ears are assaulted with noise.
Banging.
Clanging.
Yelling.
There’s a large white marquee that has been set up on the formal lawn. Staff is madly running around looking stressed. There are trucks reversing up the seventeenth-century path unloading their contents onto the gravel terrace, and people scattering like ants grabbing what they need and moving on their way.
“Last chance, babe. We can run, and no one will be the wiser.” I turn and look down at Elle.
“It’s one weekend, Ali. We can do this,” she says, reassuring me.
She’s right. Just one weekend. It’s maybe fifty hours, and some of that we will be asleep for if I have my way.
Icando it.
We can do it.
“Let’s do this,” I say, taking her hand. As soon as we walk inside the massive marquee, I find my mother and Miranda standing there with frowns on their faces talking to a couple of women with tablets in their hands.
“Hope I’m not intruding,” I say, interrupting the intense discussion.
Everyone turns, and they look surprised to see me. I notice Miranda’s eyes widen as she takes in Elle standing beside me. Her eyes dip to where our hands are linked, and a frown forms on her face.
Oh dear, she doesn’t look happy about Elle being here with me—suck it up!
“Sweetheart, you made it.” Mum smiles as she moves away from the group and pulls me into a warm hug. “You look lovely and tanned after your holiday,” she states while overexaggerating, brushing some imaginary lint from my shoulders as mothers do. Then my mother notices Eloise standing beside me, she tilts her head to the side as her eyes roam over Elle, assessing her, seeing if she’s up to the King standard. I don’t care if they think she isn’t because it is none of their business who I date. As far as I’m concerned, their standards are shit anyway if they are allowing Miranda into the family.
“Mother, Miranda … let me introduce you to Eloise, my girlfriend,” I say happily.
Eloise steps forward with her hand out. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. King.”
My mother takes her hand warmly.
Eloise then turns her attention toward Miranda, and I brace myself. “Congratulations on your wedding,” Elle says, greeting Miranda as she holds out her hand. Miranda’s eyes darken, but she politely shakes Elle’s hand. Elle continues to give Miranda a bright smile, ignoring the daggers my ex is sending her way.
“Alistair, it’s lovely to see you again,” Miranda says, turning her back on Elle and walking over and pulling me into an embrace. She kisses each of my cheeks slowly and hugs me tightly.
This game will NOT work, Miranda.
“You must be so excited to be marrying the man of your dreams?” Elle adds, not letting the slight go.
And I almost burst out laughing at her comment.
Miranda’s eyes narrow on Elle, and she understands the subtle undertone of Elle’s comment, especially after that territorial display she just tried on with me.
“Of course, I am. George is a wonderful father, and I can’t wait for our family to be one. It’s going to be a beautiful weekend. I’ve heard they believe it’s going to be the society wedding of the year,” Miranda brags to Elle.
“That’s exciting. IsTatlermagazine covering it? They love society weddings,” Elle asks curiously.