“Why didn’t you tell me about him from the beginning?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t think he met your “aim high” standards.” I sniffed. “Pretty ironic, right?”
She nodded.
“Bri! Molls!” Tristan appeared around the corner. “Oh, there you are.” His demeanor grew serious when he took in my state. “Having a bit of a wobble?”
“Of course, she is. Your friend—” Bri said but I turned to face her and shook my head. I wasn’t going to let my heartbreak be for public consumption.
“I was, but I’m fine now,” I said. I honestly had no idea what a wobble was, but it sounded about right.
“Are you ready to join the others then?” Tristan asked. He looked unsure, but I nodded. “Brilliant. This way.”
Bri took my arm again, as if I were an invalid. She leaned close and said, “Thank goodness Tristan showed up because I have no idea how to get us out of here.”
That surprised a laugh out of me, and I hugged her close. Maybe I was heartbroken, but I still had my best friend, and she was worth ten viscounts.
It wasn’t difficult to avoid Al—I didn’t think I’d ever get used to calling him Jamie—for the rest of the day. The other luncheon guests were also staying at the estate, so it was a full house with several librarians, an antique bookseller, and other assorted book lovers. Bri and I excused ourselves from the evening’s activities as we were both exhausted.
Jamie, the viscount, rose from his seat beside his grandfather, as if he’d offer to escort us to our rooms, but I preemptively shut that right down.
“Tristan, it’s so nice of you to show us the way,” I said.
He was having a whispered conversation with Bri but glanced up at the sound of his name. It was clear he had no idea what I’d said, but after a sharp elbow from Bri, he nodded. “Of course.”
When I smiled at him, he appeared intensely relieved to have guessed right, never mind that Al...Jamie, was scowling at him. I knew Bri would probably tell Tristan about the situation tonight. It was only fair since he was unfortunately caught in the middle, but my pride hated that one more person would know of my humiliation.
At my door, I gave Bri and Tristan each a quick hug good night and slipped inside. The blue was soothing and the white decorative moulding charmed me all over again. This room had a serious princess vibe going and I was there for it, even though my prince was a big fat frog.
I couldn’t sleep. I should have slept. I should have been blackout level unconscious, but I wasn’t. Instead, I stared at the ceiling, pondering this insane turn of events. Al was James Albert George Insley Whitmore, a viscount in line to be an earl. I simply could not wrap my head around the reality that the man I’d shared a bed with, who snuggled like my own personal weighted blanket, was a member of the peerage. It was insane and yet, as I stared at the opulence surrounding me, undeniable.
When I thought about it, I knew his clothes had been too fine for an academic. At the time, I just thought he had good taste but now I realized his tuxedo was Brioni, his shoes Testoni, and his sweaters Cucinelli. If the man ever spilled anything on himself, it would be the equivalent expense of wrecking a car, you know, if he was a normal person. And it wasn’t just his clothes. His manners were impeccable—he was smart, funny, kind, self-deprecating, and ridiculously handsome. I sighed. Small wonder I’d fallen in love with him.
But it had all been a lie, meaning my feelings were no more real than Albert George had been. I wasn’t in love with the viscount. I didn’t even know him, and the man I thought I had feelings for didn’t exist. How depressing.
I snapped on the lamp on my nightstand. I picked up my book for the third time. I read a paragraph and my mind wandered to what Jamie—there, that wasn’t so hard—might be doing. I glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. No doubt he was sound asleep, having forgotten all about me. What a shock it must have been for him when I arrived. We’d never really talked about my role at the museum, so he would have had no idea I’d be the one bringing their collection back.
A knock on my door caused me to start. It was three short raps. It clearly wasn’t Bri because she would have just come in. I peered at the door. I hadn’t locked it. Whoever was out there could just enter my room. I stayed very still, willing them away.
“Molly, it’s me, Ja—Al.”
My heart thundered in my chest just hearing his voice through the door. There was absolutely no way I was opening it. I didn’t have the willpower to resist him and I’d just end up sleeping with him, complicating everything, and breaking my own heart all over again.
“I just want to talk,” he said.
Right. I switched off the lamp. After a heavy pause, I heard him walk away. I threw off my covers and crept over to the door. Very quietly, I turned the lock, not that I thought he’d barge into my room but because I really should have locked the door to begin with, given that I didn’t even know the other guests staying in this house-slash-castle.
I slunk back to bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. Eventually, I slept.
There was a full itinerary for the next day. Along with the other guests, Bri and I were taken to Bath where we visited the Jane Austen Centre on Gay Street. The earl didn’t join us, but the viscount did. I managed to keep my distance from him right up until we were seated for tea on the third floor of the museum.
I’d dawdled over a mannequin dressed in period costume. When I arrived at the tearoom there was only one seat available, and it was at a table for two with him. I thought about turning around and leaving, but my pride wouldn’t stand for it.
As I approached, he rose from his seat and pulled my chair out for me. See? Stuff like that. A dead giveaway that he was more than he’d seemed. How had I missed it?
“Thank you, Al...er...Jamie,” I said. As he took the seat across from me, I added, “I’m never going to get used to calling you Jamie.”
“Then don’t,” he said. “Call me Al.”
We held each other’s gaze for a beat, and I shook my head.
“No, Al doesn’t exist,” I said. “I’ll just have to learn to call you Jamie.”
And it was true. I was going to have to learn how to deal with him. Director Macintosh had been very clear that Bri and I were to build a rapport with the Whitmores so that they would continue to loan items out of their vast collection. I didn’t want to be nice. I wanted to be snippy and bitter, but I loved my job and if I couldn’t have my happily ever after, well, then I was going to do my best to build an alliance with this man. Even though I’d much rather dump his tea in his lap and flounce from the room.
Jamie studied the table as if to gather his thoughts. I wondered if he would lead with an apology or if he would try and deny responsibility for his actions. My gut said he’d choose the apology.
The waitress, dressed in period clothing, delivered a pot of tea to our table. She bobbed and left as I reached for the teapot. I needed something to fortify myself for the next half hour.
“I’m sorry, Molly. I was a complete tosser.”
Yes! I knew he’d lead with the apology.
“For what?” I asked.
“For not telling you who I was to begin with,” he said.