Page 24 of An American in London

I’m dressed in jeans, a cream cashmere sweater, and a navy quilted jacket.

I feel underdressed, considering I’m staying at the stately home of a duke and duchess, but everyone I’ve seen so far today is in more or less the same.

We’ve gathered in the “morning room” to start our day.

I’d like to see the afternoon room, to see how it’s different.

Why do they have different rooms for different parts of the day?

Maybe it has to do with the position of the sun, or maybe if you’re a duke and duchess, life can get tedious with just one room for the entire day.

The day’s itinerary has all guests meeting in the morning room before we go shooting, but Ben and I are the only ones here. Did we miss a memo?

“I’m so sorry, the duke’s not here and hunting is canceled,” the duchess says as she enters the room. “The gamekeeper has been taken ill. It’s a dreadful shame. The duke is stuck on a call with some Indian business associates. We’re not having the best morning. Again, I apologize.”

“It’s no problem,” Ben replies. I’m sure he’s disappointed not to be seeing the duke this morning, but he doesn’t let it show. “I also understand that Nick’s caught up in a crisis, and I believe he’s drafted Elizabeth to help.”

Hunting with the duke would have been great for Ben, because he would have had the duke in a guaranteed good mood.

By all accounts, the man loves to hunt. On the other hand, I’m delighted by the change in plans.

Shooting wasn’t open to first-timers, so we would have been separated—leaving more opportunity for slipups in our cover story.

“I think most people are going into the village to look around,” the duchess says.

“It’s terribly pretty. We could join them or .

.. I thought I could give you a tour of where they filmed A Duchess for a Duke .

” She laughs. “It’s completely self-indulgent.

I love to relive it, and George isn’t interested at all. It’s rare I find a kindred spirit.”

Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better.

“That would be great,” I say. “You’re happy to do our Daniel De Luca tour of the house and grounds, aren’t you?

” I say to Ben, slipping my hand into his.

I savor the increasingly familiar strength and warmth that comes with the contact, alongside the buzz I feel whenever we touch.

Ben narrows his eyes. “Define happy.”

I laugh and the corner of Ben’s mouth lifts, which is pretty much a full-on guffaw in Ben language.

When I glance back at the duchess, she’s smiling, like we’re a couple of kids amusing her.

“You don’t have to join us, Ben,” she says. “Feel free to make use of the library or go into the village.”

“He wouldn’t miss it,” I say before Ben can pick something else. Much safer to have him by my side.

“Excellent,” the duchess says. “First stop, the orchard.”

“Oh, yes, where he stumbles across her after she’s run out on their kiss.” I don’t squeal, but it’s not because I don’t want to.

The duchess smiles as she leads us out of the front door. “Have you seen the film?” she asks Ben.

“I confess I haven’t, but I shall make sure I do when I get back to London.

” He squeezes my hand. It’s unnecessary but a nice touch.

Something engaged couples do, right? I can’t remember the last time Jed and I held hands.

We were always getting in and out of cabs, walking through crowded bars and restaurants .

.. but I can’t remember him ever grabbing my hand to ensure we wouldn’t be separated.

“It’s quite charming, really,” she says. “The duke wasn’t keen when I told him I wanted to let them film, but he agrees the house and grounds look their best on film.”

“It does look incredible in the movie,” I say. “But having had the honor of visiting, I prefer it in real life. It’s more of a home than I could have possibly expected.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say,” the duchess replies, her eyes kind of ... twinkling.

We cross the huge gravel driveway and head west toward some trees. “We’ll come back through the walled garden,” she says, gesturing to her right.

“Oh, yes! The walled garden where she retraced the steps of the dance they had together. That’s one of my favorites. It’s so lovely.” I tug on Ben’s hand, half expecting him to share in my excitement. Of course, he’s stoic as always.

“Until he finds her there, reliving their moment together,” the duchess continues. “I always shout at the screen and tell him to walk in the other direction. It’s so embarrassing for her.”

“Yes, it’s humiliating,” I reply. “But I don’t think things between them would have progressed if he hadn’t found her. It was clear she liked him, and I don’t think he would have let himself believe it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.”

“You’re right,” the duchess says. “It gives him confirmation that she’s developed real feelings for him.”

“I wonder if that happened in real life ever,” I say. “Marriages were arranged for financial reasons, right?” I’ve watched my fair share of Jane Austen adaptations. I know the score.

“Absolutely,” the duchess says. “Even back when George and I married, many of my friends were paired off to whoever was the best strategic match, rather than who they were in love with.”

“That’s so sad,” I reply.

“It is, but some of them definitely fell in love with their husbands after they were married. I think that’s just as romantic.

” The duchess is leading the way, and I can see the orchard more clearly behind her.

Wizened trunks poke from the long grass, and lush leaves create a canopy of green umbrellas studded with red fruits.

“If not more so,” I say. “Imagine thinking you were going to have to spend the rest of your life alone, even though you were married, and then it turns out your soulmate is right by your side all along.”

“You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?” Ben says under his breath, while the duchess deals with a message on her phone.

“Do you think?” I ask. It’s not how I would describe myself. My mom was the romantic in the family.

“I do. Maybe you’ve buried it in a layer you don’t want to show anyone,” he says, and I know it’s a pointed echo of my words from last night.

“I’m an open book,” I say.

“We all have layers, Tuesday.”

My heart booms in my chest as he says my name. I don’t know why, but hearing it from him feels like a revelation every time.

“You think I have secret layers?” I ask.

“Maybe. Or maybe they’ve been buried awhile so you’ve ... forgotten them.”

He looks through me, right into my soul, and I entertain the notion that he’s right.

Maybe I’ve suppressed a romantic side of myself—the side I got from my mom.

After she died, I wanted so desperately to move on from the pain of losing her, I pushed away things that reminded me of her.

Maybe I pushed away more than I realized.

London is bringing out the romantic, sunset-seeking, Daniel-De-Luca-loving part of me. The me I was before I lost my mom. Ben sees it—that version of me. The wholeness of me, the parts that have been dormant for a very long time.

The duchess finishes the messages she’s sending and turns back to us.

“Right, let me show you the exact spot they had all the cameras set up,” the duchess says.

“I used to bring everyone Battenburg and homemade digestives just so I had an excuse to see what was going on. By the end, I had my own chair. They even had my name put on it.” She lets out a throaty laugh.

“It was such fun. Although I’m not sure the duke has ever forgiven me for spending so much time away from him. He likes me close by.”

Her phone rings and she pulls it from her pocket. We all come to a stop. “Speaking of. I have to get this, but it’s just over there—by the tree with the stone at the base.”

I pull Ben over to the pear tree the duchess indicated.

“They left it.” I drop his hand and crouch down to read the inscription.

It’s exactly the same as the one in the movie.

“It’s a dedication to his beloved sister who died in childbirth, who loved the orchard when she was alive.

When Avani Tudor first moves into the house as duchess, she finds it.

The love the duke has for his sister makes the duchess finally see he isn’t the monster everyone thinks he is. Oh, Ben, it’s like it’s real.”

It’s beautiful. A smooth stone, weathered with lichen and time. The words have started to fade. It’s just a name and the dedication, She loved it here, so I love it here .

In a second, I’m transported back to a fall afternoon with my mom.

We’d stopped for gas, and someone mentioned the trees over by Trent’s farm were looking pretty.

We drove over and kept following the fall colors until we were fifty miles away, then watched the sun go down, eating gas-station beef jerky and sitting on the hood of the car.

It’s stupid, but this trip has brought every memory of my mom racing back in a kaleidoscope of color. I miss her so much.

She would have loved to be here. I would give anything to have her back, just for this moment. And maybe a few moments more. Even though it’s been years, it feels like I need her more than ever.

She’d be able to reassure me I could find plenty of joy in life without knowing what my future holds, without the job or Jed or the fancy apartment. None of that stuff would have mattered to her. She’d hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. Right now, that’s all I need.

“We’re talking about the duke and duchess in the film?” he asks.

I pull the corner of my sweater over my thumb and dab at my eyes. “Yes.”

“Are you okay?” Ben pulls at my elbow, but I shake him off.

“I just need a minute.”

But instead of pretending I’m not crying and backing off, he crouches down beside me. “Are you upset about the sister dying?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”