My mother gasps in feigned horror. "You brought that woman to the lawyer’s?"
I refrain from rolling my eyes, but just barely.
"Yes, Mum, in spite of the fact that you sent Jessa over here at the crack of dawn, I did have Katherine come to the meeting with the lawyer. It’s important that he sees us as a normal married couple so he won’t entertain any challenges to the will."
She moves closer to where I’m leaning a hip against the desk and puts her hand gently on my arm, looking up at me with maternal concern. It unbalances me. She’s never shown concern before, so while I’m sure it isn’t real, it’s a new weapon in her arsenal and one I’m not entirely prepared to withstand.
"I’m worried about you, Win. You made this rash decision with this unknown woman. What if she tries to take your fortune? Now she’s seen everything you have, she’d have to be a Saint not to get greedy. I understand you need the solicitor to support the marriage, but I fear you’ve allowed her too intimate a look at how wealthy you are."
I know she’s right from a rational standpoint. But since the day I approached Katherine with this proposition, she hasn’t shown the slightest interest in my money. She hasn’t asked for anything or gone on a big shopping spree. She just wants her job, the money to pay off her small business loan, and to be treated with respect.
Which I realize I haven’t done.
"She’s not after the money, Mum," I assure her, moving away so I don’t have to feel her touch or see the look of concern on her face.
She sighs. "I hope you’re right, dear. Now, what do you need me to do to help with the funeral?"
"I have the staff at Grandfather’s office working on it. It’s to be as we expected, services at All Hallows by the Tower, the cousins and I will be pall bearers, officiant duties will be split between All Hallows and the home church in Surrey."
"I can not for the life of me understand why the service isn’t being held at St. Paul’s," my mother says indignantly.
"Mum, St. Paul’s is enormous. Grandfather knew there was no way he could fill the cathedral that Charles and Diana were married in."
She pouts a touch. "At least a procession…"
I do roll my eyes this time. "He’s not one of the Windsors. The people of London aren’t going to stand roadside to watch the casket of the Duke of Surrey drive by. Maybe if we held the services in Surrey, but since grandfather only bothered to visit once a year, they weren’t terribly attached to him, either."
"And after the services?"
"Afterwards will be an open house reception at Morton’s," I tell her, referring to my grandfather’s private club. "Samuel and Deena are already working with the club staff on it. Everything will take place day after tomorrow, notices have been posted. It’s all under control."
"Well," says a voice from the doorway, "isn’t that lovely?"
I turn to find my cousin David glaring at me from the doorway. Samuel has some explaining to do. Aren’t butlers supposed to announce visitors before they enter the room?
"David. Lovely to see you," I say, sounding completely unconvincing.
"Mm," he murmurs as he walks in, looking at every book and picture and stick of furniture covetously.
"And while it is lovely to see you, I’m rather booked at the moment. Was there something in particular you needed?"
He stops directly in front of me, but out of arm’s reach, because David’s always been a nasty coward, and I’ve always been bigger and stronger.
"I just wanted to deliver the news in person." He pauses for effect. Bloody drama queen. "I’ve just filed a formal challenge to grandfather’s will. Your so-called marriage is an utter sham."
21
Kat
"How’s it going, hon?" Darnell asks as he peers at me over Skype.
I sigh and give him my best disgusted face.
"Oh no, what’s the matter, baby?"
I’m leaning up against the headboard of the big cushy bed, my laptop resting on my knees. Outside, the day is rushing toward lunch, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with the rest of it. Obviously, it won’t involve any of the normal things the Duchess of Surrey would be doing. Because, you know, those things are "complicated”. The little kitten from breakfast climbs up the dust ruffle and comforter with his tiny claws. I see his giant ears and sparkly eyes peek over the edge of the bed and reach over to lift him the rest of the way up.
"This was all a huge mistake," I tell Darnell as I hold the kitten against my chest and pet his soft fur. "It’s like I’m supposed to play this role, but not really. If I act like me then it’s wrong, but if I act like the Duchess of Surrey that’s not allowed, either. He doesn’t need a wife for a year, he needs a cardboard cutout."
"Are you sure it’s not more like an inflatable doll?" he asks with a grin.
I feel my face flush—as if. Or maybe if only.
"Stop," I tell him. "There is none of that going on. We can barely stand to be in the same room together.”
“He is a big hunk of hot, angry man. I can see why he’d be difficult to handle. But you’re no walk in the park, either, sister.”
I glare at him some more. “You’re supposed to be on my side,” I tell him.
“And I am. But I watched the two of you the other day, and neither one of you is easy.”
I sigh. I know he’s right, but I also know that this morning was all Win’s fault. Not mine.
“But I’ve been trying. Once you convinced me to cooperate, I decided if I had to dress like his wife and talk like his wife, I might as well commit and act like his wife.”
“And?”
“And he’s definitely not a fan. This morning, he left the house without a word and drove to the meeting we had with his ex, and then when I asked a few questions about the Duchess’s Foundation that his wife is supposed to run, he cut me off without blinking. ‘It’s complicated, no need for you to worry about it’.” I lower my voice and mimic Douche Duke’s stuffy accent.
I see Darnell’s normally perfectly smooth brow furrow, and his cat, Sylvester, starts purring so loudly I can hear him through the computer connection.
“So, you have an entire foundation?”
“Not me—the Duchess of Surrey.”
“Who is you,” he answers gently.
“Only for a year, and only in name.”
“Bullshit!” he snaps. I blink at him, taken aback. “Since when does my girl let someone tell her what she can and can’t do, especially when something is legit her place? He can talk about it being temporary, but the fact is, you are the Duchess of Surrey, and he’s the one who put you there. You have a foundation to run? Oh, baby doll, think of all the things you could do. You remember how much we loved hearing about Meghan’s plans? You could be a mini-Meg.”
He pauses, and a spark of something really exciting runs through me.
“This is an opportunity most of us will never have. You can help the things we care about.” He rolls his eyes then as he corrects himself. “The things you care about.”
“Which is the same as the things we care about,” I remind him with a smile.
“Yaas!” he shouts. “And you’re more than smart enough to do it. You can pick out causes and say where money should go better than some royal bitch who’s never known an actual poor person. You need to do this, baby doll. Go run it and prove to him that you’re capable.”
I look at Darnell. His eyes are sparkling he’s so fired up.
“He told me no, though...did you hear that part?”
“I heard. But you need to hear me. His family has a lot of things we’ll never have—money, property, influence—it’s normal he wouldn't want to share that with you. But you have to prove him wrong. You have to do what Kat always does—show him you’re the right woman for the job. You are fire tearing through an old dried out forest, baby. You’ve never met a challenge you couldn’t beat, don’t let him be the one that breaks your streak.”
I feel some of that fire reigniting a
s he talks. He’s right. When I wanted to go to prom with Sam Kinsella when I was seventeen, I didn’t let the fact I’d never spoken to him stop me. I got one of my brothers’ girlfriends to introduce us and then I went ahead and asked him instead of waiting for him to do it. And when I wanted to go on the senior trip to Hawaii and my parents didn’t have the money, I DJ’d at kids’ birthday parties for six months to save up. Later, when I applied to clubs all over Chicago for a chance to DJ and they all said I was too young, too female, and too white, I started spinning for semi-pro teams in baseball, soccer, and hockey until I worked my way up to the Norsemen.
The truth is, I can’t think of a single thing I’ve ever really wanted in my life that I haven’t been able to get. The question is, do I really want to be the Duchess of Surrey and, if so, why?
“You’re right,” I tell Darnell. “I know how to get what I want, but I’m not sure I want this.”
He smiles indulgently. “Baby, you do want this, and you want to know why?”
I nod, anxious to have him psychoanalyze me. No one does it better.
“Because when will you ever have the chance to be a Duchess again? And how many people ever get that chance? Even if you haven’t thought about it consciously, there’s a reason you said yes to this craziness. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s the kind of thing that will feed stories for your grandchildren when you’re eighty and spinning discs at the nursing home.”
I laugh. Only Darnell could put that image in my head.
“You’re right. It is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I don’t want to waste it standing around in boring clothes nodding and smiling, then sitting around waiting for the next time he wants to trot me out. I want to be the real Duchess of Surrey.”
I want to do things only she can do, I think, and experience the things she gets to experience. An image flashes in my mind of Winston shirtless in the library the night before. Well, I amend silently, I won’t get to experience all the things the real Duchess would.
“Damn straight, baby doll.” Darnell blows me a kiss on screen. “Now, go tell that pompous hunk of hottie who you are and, while you may not be staying, you’re going to be in charge while you’re there. But before you do, tell me who that little ball of adorableness is.”
I look down at the kitten who’s rolled onto his back, shamelessly exposing his tummy for me to rub.
“They found him in the alley out back. He doesn’t have a name yet. I think maybe you should help give him one.”
Darnell looks thoughtful for a moment. “Wallis,” he finally says.
“Wallis?” My nose wrinkles in distaste for such an old-fashioned name. I was thinking something more like Drogon, so he’ll grow up to be a badass.
“Yes, hon, don’t you know your royal history?” he asks with a smug purse of his lips that may or may not have cherry red lip gloss on them.
“Was there a King Wallis or something?” I pat the kitten’s tummy and he smiles in his sleep. Silly creature.
“No, Your Gracelessness,” Darnell says in exasperation. “Wallis Simpson was the woman the King of England gave up his throne for.”
“Oh!” I exclaim, because I do remember this story. It was Queen Elizabeth’s uncle. If it weren’t for Wallis Simpson, Elizabeth might not be queen at all. “I do remember that. She was American, right?”
“That’s right. She was a divorced, American commoner, but the old King thought she was all that, so he said buh-bye to the crown.” He sighs. “Just imagine someone loving you so much they’d give up a kingdom for you.”
“But didn’t she and the old King also hang out with Nazis and die kind of miserable?” I ask.
He flaps his hand in dismissal. “That’s not the point. The point is, Wallis is the name of someone who was so entrancing the world order was changed for her love. And that’s the legacy this little kitten will carry.”
I don’t really get it, but like I said, Darnell is in charge of naming my pets, so I go with it. “Okay then, Wallis,” I say as I hold him in front of my face while he dangles in mid-air and blinks sleepily at me. “Let’s see if you can live up to all that—so entrancing the world order is changed for your love.” He lets out a little squeak and I put him back on the bed where he wobbles off to lie down somewhere less disruptive.
After Darnell and I hang up, I’m pumped, ready to fight, ready to stand up for what I want. I’m ready to be the Duchess of Surrey. I clean up, smooth out the wrinkles in my silk blouse, and march downstairs to give the Duke a piece of my mind. But as I stand outside the library, I hear raised voices, and one of them says, “If you did marry her for real, then it’s even greater proof of your unsuitability because I’ve had her investigated and I’ll take it all the way to court if I have to. There is no way I’ll allow that money to go to a former hooker!”
"I beg your pardon?" the Duke’s voice booms from behind the door to the library.
I scrunch my eyes shut and lean against the wall outside the room, my stomach pitching violently.
"You heard me, Winston," the other man says, his voice bored now. "You were in such a hurry to take it all, you forgot your due diligence. Obviously, you learned nothing from Grandfather in the end. You picked up some strumpet off the streets of Chicago, gave her cash and married her, neglecting to consider that she more than likely had a history. One which includes an arrest for solicitation when she was seventeen."
Dammit. How the hell did he find out about an arrest from when I was seventeen? God, I want to die right now, just lie down on the marble floor of Win’s super fancy family home and die.
"Winston!" His mother’s tone can only be described as appalled. "Is this true?"
"Mum, will you please keep out of this," Win instructs. "And David, I’ll remind you that the woman you’re speaking of is my wife, and the Duchess of Surrey."
He lays on the arrogant and regal so thick, it’s obvious even through the door that he doth protest too much. "I will not entertain these slanderous accusations, nor will I give your ridiculous challenge one more moment of my very valuable time. Will you be leaving of your own accord, or shall I call to have the staff remove you?"
David snorts in disgust. "Oh please, Win, as if the seventy-year-old butler could possibly remove me by force."
"That’s Your Grace," Win snarls. "And he might not be able to remove you, but I certainly can."
"I’ll see myself out," David is quick to answer — and frankly, I don’t blame him, Win is big, and sounds mad as hell. "But you haven’t heard the last of this."
The door flies open, and I jump back behind it, against the wall, just in time. I see the back of David’s head as he stomps across the foyer and out the front door.
"Win, we must discuss this at once," his mother says from inside the library.
"No, Mum, we mustn’t," Win replies, right before I see him with his hand under her elbow leading her toward the front door, as well. "Thank you for stopping by, I’ll see you at the funeral." Then, before she has a chance to answer, he’s shoved her out the door and slammed it shut behind her.
Win runs a hand through his thick hair in frustration before he turns to head back to the library. And it’s at that exact moment he sees me lurking in the corner.
My heart takes a dive to somewhere near my heels, and my breath catches, unable to work its way out of my throat. The look on his face isn’t what I expected, it’s not rage or disdain or disgust. It’s despair. He looks…lost…and miserable.
"You heard?" he asks, standing there in the middle of his giant foyer, defeat written all over his face.
"It’s not what you think—" I begin, and immediately stop again. I sound like such a cliché.
"I’d like to say I wish you’d told me, but in all fairness, I never asked — about anything."
I step out of my little corner, watching him carefully. I never would have thought it possible to feel sorry for such a wealthy, self-assured, genetically blessed man.
But I do. And
I feel like, somehow, I’m responsible for his misery, even though I know I’m really not.
"No," he continues. "I never asked anything about who you were, where you came from, or what you did. I was so hell-bent on getting this inheritance solved that I took the bait the second Diego suggested you, and then I expected you to disappear when I didn’t need you and reappear when I did."
He has a point.
I look at him and give him a small smile. "I’m not very good at disappearing, though, I guess."
He watches me, seeming to come out of his sorrow slowly. I feel a flush rise in my cheeks. I’m not sure why, but something in his eyes turns from drowning to heated.
"It would be damn near impossible to make you disappear, Your Grace," he says softly. Then he seems to shake himself out of all of it. "So, since we’ve gotten this far, we may as well see what we can do about it. If you’d come with me—" He holds out his hand and I slowly grasp it, his warm, rough skin making me flush even more. "Let’s finally get to know one another."
22
Winston
I walk Katherine out to the gardens behind the house. It’s a pleasant enough day, not warm, but not uncomfortably cold, either. "Shall I send for your jacket?" I ask her as I realize I escorted her outside without one.
"No, thanks, it’s actually nice out here. Almost cozy."
Because we’re in town, the lot is small, but the gardens extend from the back doors clear to the alley behind. They’re full of a number of things my grandmother tended during her lifetime, including a pretty spectacular collection of rose bushes.
"This was my grandmother’s retreat," I tell her as we walk down one of the flagstone paths, winding our way to the center of the space where a small fountain and bench await us. "She used to spend hours out here."
"Did you love her?" she asks. I realize then that I’ve kept a hold of her hand since we left the house. I ought to let it go, but she’s not indicating she minds, and I find some sort of comfort in her smooth skin and delicate bones pressed against me.
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