I put my hand over my chest and feel my heart pounding. “Don’t do that to me.”
“Sorry.”
“Did I wake you up?”
“I’ve been lying here thinking about things half the night.” She sits up and flicks on her bedside lamp and, instantly, the room fills with a warm, golden glow.
I sit at the bottom of her bed. “Something on your mind, babe?”
“Oh, you know: life, the universe, everything. Oh, and the fact my bestie on this show is sneaking off to have a torrid affair with the guy I’m meant to be competing against her for. So clearly, I’m not going to be the one walking down the aisle at the end of the show.”
My tummy does a flip and I begin to feel all giddy. Giddy and more than a little freaked out. I mean, walking down the aisle? It all feels so ... final.
Final, but also, kind of incredible.
“So, pretty general things?” I ask with a smirk. “And it’s not a torrid affair. It’s—” I pause as I try to land on the word to sum up what Sebastian and I have together. Whatever it is, wherever it’s going to go, I know one thing for sure: it feels wonderful.
She pushes herself up on her elbows and scrutinizes my face. “Oh, Miss Emma, I do believe you are blushing.”
“No, I’m not,” I protest, doing precisely that.
“Girl, you’ve been out with the guy half the night. I think you’re fully entitled to blush.” She sits more upright in bed. “So? How was he?”
“It’s not like that,” I reply defensively.
The look on her face tells me she’s not buying it in the least. “Mmm-hmm?”
“Sure, there was some of that, but mainly we talked.”
“You spent all this time off camera with the totally hot guy everyone is falling over themselves to be with, and you ‘mainly talked?’” She uses air quotes. “Tell me at least you kissed the guy.”
I try to suppress the smile busting out across my face. “I did.”
“And? What’s he like? I bet he’s good at it. He looks like he’d be good at it.”
“Heart-stopping, knee-melting, star-seeing good.”
She returns my smile. “That’s more like it. Oh, Em. You so have got this show in the bag. Camille is going to want to scratch your eyes out with her French manicured nails.”
I let out a light laugh. “That doesn’t matter. I don’t care about the show or Camille. I only care about him.”
She shakes her head at me. “You’ve got it bad, girl.”
“It’s kind of scary,” I admit, “but also kind of amazing. We’ve got a lot more in common than I ever thought. I remember when we met, I thought he was the biggest douchebag to walk the face of the Earth.” I smile at the memory. “Now? Well, let’s just say I don’t.”
“You’re Lizzie Bennet.”
I crinkle my brow. “So are you in this weird, messed up reality TV world. The Lizzies. Ugh.”
“No, I mean you’re really Lizzie Bennet. Think about it. She hated Mr. Darcy when she met him. Then, once she got to know him, she hated him some more. Same as you.”
“Ah, but I had feelings for him while I hated him.”
“I bet Lizzie did, too. Jane Austen just didn’t put it out there in black and white, like, ‘Lizzie told Jane she had the hots for Darcy, even though she thought he was a total dick.’”
I giggle. “I can totally imagine Jane Austen writing that exact line.”
“And now, just like Lizzie, you’ve realized the error of your ways and have fallen in love with Mr. Darcy. Only, there was no Mr. Wickham running off with Lydia to put a temporary spanner in the works.”
Things flutter around inside me. Have I fallen in love with Sebastian?
If I haven’t, I’m at serious risk of doing so.
“How does he feel about you?”
“You’ll have to ask him that,” I reply evasively.
“Yeah, like I’d get a straight answer out of him. Unlike you, I don’t sneak off to see him off-camera. Any time I’m near him there are a bunch of cameras nearby, poking their nose into everything.” She rolls her eyes and grins at me. “When you win this thing and live happily ever after in this place, can I come visit you and your army of impossibly beautiful children?”
My laugh is shot with nerves and excitement. “Let’s take it day by day, okay?”
“Babe, you don’t have the luxury of that. Even if he’s fallen madly in love with you, he can’t spend every waking hour with you. He’s got to play the game for the cameras, make it at least look like we’ve got a fighting chance.”
My smile threatens to take over my entire face.
She reaches over and pulls me in for a hug. “I am so happy for you, Em. Finding love on reality TV is as rare as a unicorn. But you’ve gone and done it.”
I beam at her, happiness spreading from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “I have, haven’t I?”
* * *
The following morning, due to lack of sleep, the news that the day’s activity is learning how to dance Regency style is not exactly music to our exhausted ears.
It turns out Regency dances are ridiculously complicated and surprisingly physical for something that looks so sedate. It’s not helped by the fact Kennedy and I spend half the time giggling in the corner rather than paying close attention. How the ladies and gentlemen of the Regency era managed to look poised and elegant and not like they’d run ten miles uphill is a mystery to me.
After at least two hours of practice we get to take a much-needed break in the afternoon. No costumes, no dancing, no cameras. Bliss. After lazing around, talking to Phoebe and Kennedy, I decide it’s time I stretched my legs before they turn completely to Jell-O.
I stand up and stretch, my back clicking as I reach for the ceiling. “I’m going for a walk. Anyone want to come with me?”
“No, thanks,” Phoebe replies. “I’m going to have a lie down before the dancing tonight. That session really took it out of me.”
“Not me,” Kennedy says. “My poor feet are aching from having to wear those stupid ballet slippers the whole time. No arch support.”
“Suit yourselves.” I turn to leave, only to bump into a smug, smirking Camille.
Yippee.
“Emma.” She casts her eyes over me. “How nice to see you in your sweats again. Tell me, do you ever wear anything else? Or is this your ... ‘look?’” She scrunches up her nose in distaste so I’m in no fear of missing how little she thinks of my choice of attire.
I take in her outfit of a floral print dress, cinched in at the waist, and a pair of heels. Her hair is held back with an Alice band, and her makeup is absolutely perfect. It’s a look anyone from Gossip Girl would be happy to sport, and it’s the way she dresses, even when it’s just us girls, chilling out away from the cameras. Mom might think she’s got standards, I think she’s got a serious case of the “I’m better than everyone else-es.”
Instead of rising to her bait, I reply, “I guess it is my look, Camille. My label is very comfortable.”
“Elasticated waistbands are very comfortable, I’m told. I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t be found dead in any clothes with one.”
That could be arranged…
“It’s not elasticated. It’s Lycra.”
She waves her hand in the air. “Potato, po-tah-to.” She flashes me a condescending look worthy of Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself, Lizzie Bennet’s arch rival. “Did you enjoy the dance practice this morning?” she asks, and I go to reply when she cuts me off with, “Because I wondered whether dancing is really your thing.” She cocks her head to the side as though she’s genuinely wondering, rather than just messing with me in her usual, evil way.
God, she’s annoying.
“I’m sure Sebastian will take pity on you and ask you to dance tonight, anyway. I mean, he’s very kind and thoughtful to all of the contestants. Even the ones he’s not interested in.”
“You mean even me?” I say, my tone dripping with enough sarcasm to fill a
bucket. Not that I was bad at the dancing portion or anything. Well, no more so than anyone else. It was complicated and hard to keep track of all the steps. And there were a lot of steps.
“That’s the attitude, Emma,” she replies with a fake smile.
I’ve had enough. “See you later, Camille.” I turn and walk toward the door leading out onto the terrace.
“You’re not going to win, Emma,” she says.
I stop and turn. “Maybe. Maybe not,” I reply with a shrug. I’m working hard not to get my hackles up right now.
“I would say not.” Her voice is cold, her pretty features hard. She steps closer to me. “You see, Sebastian and I are right for one another. We’re a fit. We’re the same. He understands me and I understand him.” She trails her eyes over me once more. “You would never fit into a life like his. You’d have no clue how to handle it, you and your comfy pants and ponytails.”
What’s wrong with ponytails?
Her steel blue eyes are trained on me, and I half expect to turn to dust with their evil force. “He’s mine, Emma. Get used to it.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve gone all Shelby on me now, Camille. I’m not sure her destiny approach worked out quite how she imagined it would.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs. “I’m trying to warn you, as a friend, that you may as well give up. You can’t win.”
As a friend? Sure she is.
I glare back at her for a moment because two can play this game, and screw her. So what if Sebastian and I lead different lives? Opposites attract. Doesn’t she know that?
I ignore the tiny voice at the back of my head telling me she’s right. Because, dammit, she’s not.
“Whatever, Camille.”
She smiles sweetly at me. “I’m glad you agree, Emma. Enjoy your flight home.”
Chapter 25
It takes all my strength not to pull the spangly, expensive-looking Alice band from Camille’s hair and hurl it across the room. Although I bet if I did that, it would only go to prove her point that I’m too low class for Sebastian and she’s not.
I turn my back on her and march across the terrace and out onto the wide expanse of grass, bypassing the formal gardens with their fountain and rows of topiary. Instead, I head for the untamed woodlands up a small rise to the west.
God, what I wouldn’t give to tell Camille the truth! To rub her perfect face in my happiness, to let her know in no uncertain terms that she is so, so wrong.
But what good will that do?
Nothing, that’s what, and it would probably get me kicked off the show to boot.
I just need to bide my time and bite my lip.
I reach the woodlands and purposefully slow my pace. I take a few deep breaths and look around. It’s beautiful here. The trees stretch tall above me, the light filters through from above, and the ground is covered in dried leaves with patches of green. It’s English country perfection, what I imagine the country was before it gave way to cities and roads like the rest of the world.
After rambling through for a while, I find a fallen tree. Checking for spiders and other creepy crawlies, I climb up onto it and take in the view of the forest around me. The wild beauty helps me push Camille and her patronizing attitude from my mind, and I let out a deep breath.
“Be careful you don’t fall. You don’t have a good track record with that.”
I look around in surprise to see Sebastian gazing up at me, a smile on his face. He’s wearing his off-duty clothes of a T-shirt and pair of shorts, and he looks like he’s been working out.
“I’ve been practicing my balance skills since then, and anyway, no dress headpiece this time. See?” I hold my ponytail in my hand as proof.
“You are improving,” he replies with a glint in his eye.
I climb down from my spot on the tree and land a couple of feet from him.
“You’re also a gymnast.” He loops his arms around my waist and kisses me, full on the mouth. “So many hidden talents, Brady.”
“Oh, you have no idea, Mr. Darcy.”
“Sorry, I’m all sweaty.”
“Don’t be. I like it,” I murmur against his mouth.
“That bodes well for me,” he says between kisses as he holds me close against him.
“Ahem.” Someone clears their throat behind us and we immediately stop what we’re doing.
Fear twists inside me. “Uh-oh. We’ve been busted.” With trepidation, I stand on my tippy-toes to peer over Sebastian’s shoulder to see a woman I’ve never laid eyes on before. She’s dressed in a pair of shorts and a singlet top, her hands on her hips, and she’s staring at us with a look of delight on her pretty face.
“Aren’t you meant to be saving that for the cameras?” she asks. Her accent is just like Sebastian’s. She’s so cute, I bet she has guys falling over themselves to be with her.
Sebastian hooks his arm around my shoulders and turns to face her. “Zara, that’s the last thing I would want to do, and you know it.”
She grins at us. “You must be Emma, and if you’re not, I’m going to have some serious words with Sebastian.”
I look in confusion from the woman to Sebastian and back again. “I am Emma,” I reply. “Have I missed something?”
Sebastian chuckles. “You weren’t meant to meet like this, but as it’s happened, Emma, this is my sister, Zara.”
“Your sister?” I exclaim in surprise.
“Hello there,” she says. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, despite all the kissing. As a side note, Seb, no sister should ever have to witness that.”
I tilt my head and eyeball him. “Seb, huh?”
He has the good grace to look bashful. “I was messing with you. All my friends and family call me Seb.”
“Is that so?”
“To be fair, you were very prickly at the time.”
“Fair call.” I unhook myself from him and go to shake Zara’s hand. Instead, she pulls me in for a quick hug and says, “Seb’s told me all about you.”
He has?
I glance back at him. He’s still looking bashful, but in a very manly and sexy way, of course.
“He’s told me about you, too,” I reply. “Although he didn’t tell me you look like that gorgeous British actress. You know, the one in that Bond movie?”
“Gemma Arterton,” Sebastian says.
“That’s right. It makes sense Mr. Darcy would have a Bond-girl for a sister. You know, in some parallel universe somewhere.”
Zara rolls her eyes as she laughs. “I get that all the time,” she says in her posh rounded English vowels, looking and sounding exactly like Gemma Arterton.
“And that’s a bad thing?” I ask.
“It’s fine,” she replies as though I haven’t told her she looks like a totally beautiful actress. “We’ve been out for a run. Seb makes me do it whenever I’m home.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Does he now?”
“Oh, yes. He says my life in London is far too unhealthy and I need to get some fresh Martinston air in my lungs. Since I’ve been summoned home for a family get together this afternoon, he’s roped me into this.”
Sebastian places his hand on Zara’s shoulder. “My sister is a single girl about town in London.”
“That sounds fun to me.”
He raises his brows at me. “You want to be single?”
As I look up into his eyes, my chest expands. “No.”
He gazes back at me and replies, “Good.”
We share a smile.
“Oh, my God you two!” Zara exclaims. “First the kissing and now longing gazes? Could you get any cuter? And when I say cuter, I mean vomit-inducing, of course.”
Sebastian nudges her on the arm. “Sisters,” he says to me.
I shrug. “I wouldn’t know about those. I’m an only child.”
“Lucky you, not having to put up with a bossy, overbearing older brother who makes you run through forests when all you want to do is catch up on Netflix, drink wine, a
nd eat cake.”
“Which is precisely why you need to go for a run, little sister,” he responds.
I watch them as they verbally spar with one another like they’re pre-pubescent teens in the back of their parents’ car. Which, now that I think about it, is probably a Rolls Royce or a Bentley or something. They’ve got that whole sibling closeness thing going on where they can say anything and they’ll still love one another as brother and sister. It’s something I never had, and watching them now, I feel like I missed out.
“Oh, Seb, will you give it a rest please? I promise not to party as much with Tabitha.”
“She is a very bad influence on you, Zara.”
Zara rolls her eyes at me. “Tabitha’s been my best friend since we were babies. Seb here can’t seem to accept that means something and going to the occasional party or nightclub with her in London is perfectly fine.”
I put my hands up in the air in the surrender sign. I’ve got no clue who this Tabitha person is or whether she’s a good influence or not. “Don’t involve me, you two. Innocent bystander here.”
“Speaking of Tabitha, I promised to call her after our run,” Zara says. “Emma, it’s so nice to meet you. My brother has amazing taste.” She pulls me in for another quick hug. “And you?” she says to Sebastian. “I’ll see you back home once you’ve finished kissing Emma’s face off.”
I let out a giggle that ends in a snort.
“Bye,” she says as she runs away.
“You’re only winning today’s race because I got distracted,” Sebastian calls after her.
“You keep telling yourself that, brother,” she calls back as she disappears behind a clump of bushes.
With Zara now gone, Sebastian and I are left in the woods alone.
“You’re going to kiss my face off, are you?” I ask and he laughs.
“It would be rude not to.”
I stand on my toes, hook my hands behind his head, and we do just that.
“I hope that was okay, meeting Zara that way? I had wanted to introduce you when we were less, well, sweaty.”
“Are you kidding? She’s terrific.”
Dating Mr. Darcy: A romantic comedy (Love Manor Romantic Comedy Book 1) Page 20