Page 22 of Valentine Nook (The Valentine Nook Chronicles #1)

Lando

I t feels like I’m waiting for a date.

I stop pacing, ram my sweaty palms into my pockets, and take a deep breath.

It doesn’t stop my heart from thumping erratically, but it does make me realize how ridiculous I’m being.

I’m a grown man, and this is supper .

A supper my mother planned, nothing more, nothing less. The same family supper we’ve had every Friday night since I can remember. The one where all manner of friends are invited, because as long as the six of us plus Max are in attendance, it doesn’t matter who joins.

Once, there were twenty-seven of us.

Tonight, there will be only one extra person. It just so happens to be the one sending me into a spiral.

“Your Grace?—”

I turn to find James walking across the floor of the great hall to where I’m staring out the window and trying not to have a panic attack.

“The barbecue’s fired up, and the chefs are outside. I’ve let the duchess know the table is set for when you’re ready.” James’s volume drops. “And the fireworks are being prepared on the upper lawn.”

“ Fireworks ? Who’s having fireworks?”

Bollocks. Why did I think fireworks would be a good idea?

I’m putting it down to a momentary and highly irregular bout of self-pity. It’s all Holiday’s fault for asking me what I do for fun.

And what’s more fun than fireworks?

The one—rather pressing—issue I didn’t foresee was that they would open me up to a slew of questions I’m not prepared to answer. And while family supper night is normally a loud affair, it’s not loud enough that no one will notice a bunch of fireworks going off.

I glance at James, silently pleading with him not to say anything to Alex. Because we both know why I requested tonight to include after-dinner entertainment in the form of colorful explosives.

We never have after-dinner entertainment unless Miles drinks too much.

“We are.”

Alex’s confusion deepens. “Why?”

A perfect example of a question I don’t want to answer.

“Why not?”

“Um . . . okay . . . because—” Alex’s pause gives me the exact argument I need.

“See, you can’t come up with a reason not to either.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and perhaps I have, but it’s too late now. On the plus side, the conversation’s distracting me enough that my palms have stopped sweating.

Alex is still trying to come up with a response when a fire-engine siren blares out from the corridor to the left. It’s a sound that usually grates to my core and has me threatening to remove the batteries, but right now, I’m wondering how I can use it as a distraction tonight .

“What’s going on?” Hendricks asks, followed by Fireman Max driving along on a toy fire engine.

Alex takes one look at James’s and my blank faces and shakes his head. “I have absolutely no idea, but it involves fireworks.”

“Fireworks?”

“ Fireworks ?” Max screeches, jumping off the fire engine with enough force that he slips on the floor, banging his head on the stone slabs. Luckily, his fire helmet saves him, and he barely seems to notice as he scrambles to his feet. “Fireworks? I want fireworks. I love fireworks.”

Truthfully, I thought Max would already be in bed before the fireworks began, which is why we have silent ones, but I’ll take any support I can get.

“See. Max thinks they’re a good idea.”

“He’s four. This morning, I discovered him painting himself green so Birgitta wouldn’t find him during hide-and-seek in the garden.”

Definitely can’t blame him for that. I try to hide from Birgitta too, something I’d say Alex agrees with, given he’s smirking.

“Sounds like a good camouflage technique, wouldn’t you say, James?” I elbow him in the ribs. “Isn’t it how the army does it?”

“Not exactly, Your Grace, but close enough,” he replies in his usual diplomatic tone.

“Uncle Lando, can I have a firework?”

Scooping up Max, I prop him on my hip and straighten his helmet. “Of course you may. We have special ones just for you.”

“If you’re talking about sparklers, Miles used them all up at his party after the fair. So you’ll need to find some more. Otherwise, you can deal with the tears and fallout.”

Bloody Miles. At this rate, I’ll be the one in tears .

Taking another deep breath, I turn to James. I don’t even need to ask.

“I’ll see what I can find,” he replies wearily.

“Thanks, James. You’re the best.”

Max decides he’s bored being propped in my arms, and in his bid to get back on solid ground, he kicks me in the stomach.

“Thanks for that,” I call after him as he pushes open the doors leading to the garden and sprints out, the three of us close behind.

It’s a beautiful, balmy summer evening, not too hot but warm enough to spend it outside in relative comfort.

The fragrance of the roses from our mother’s garden drifts through the air, a strange contrast mingling with the scent of the coals heating up on the barbecue, while the birds are performing their twilight serenade.

For half a minute, everything’s perfect until Alex ruins it with more questions.

“Are you planning to explain the fireworks at any point, or are we just going to pretend it’s a normal Friday night occurrence?”

“What’s there to explain?” I reply, taking a beer from the drinks table, which has been laid out.

Alex shrugs, and hopefully, he’s done with his Spanish Inquisition. Hendricks picks up a beer and takes a long draw. Once again, we stand in blissful silence until the next interruption.

This one is far more welcome.

Alex’s and Hendricks’s backs are turned so they don’t see Clementine walking around the corner on the far side of the lawn next to Holiday. It’s going to take at least thirty seconds for them to reach us, and for that thirty seconds, I get to enjoy the sight of her before anyone else notices.

Enjoy watching her laugh at whatever my sister is saying .

I’m thankful the beer is cold in my hand, stopping my palms from sweating again because that erratic thump of my heart returns.

Her pale blond hair is loose and bouncing around her shoulders.

The last few times I’ve seen her, she’s had it tied back, but today, the soft waves make her face even more heart-shaped than usual.

Her pink cheeks stretch with a smile, and when she looks up to find me staring, it freezes for a split second before widening even further.

A tugging sensation stirs in me, a long-forgotten feeling of attraction, and for the first time in a long time, I feel single.

Not tied to someone. Not someone’s ex-fiancé. Not the guy whose wedding was called off the night before.

Just Lando.

“We’re here. We’re here. No need to send the search party. Happy Fourth of July, everyone,” Clementine announces loudly when she’s ten meters out.

“Fourth of Ju . . .” Hendricks’s eyes meet mine. “ Ohh. Oh. And it all becomes clear. Nice, Lando. Very smooth.”

“I agree. Very smooth.” Alex slings an arm around my shoulders and leans in. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Just . . . like this . It feels like the old Lando is coming back to us.”

I want him to explain what he means, but Clementine barges in with Holiday next to her.

“What are we drinking?”

“We have beer.”

Clementine pulls a face. “Hard pass. Hol, how about a glass of champagne, as it’s Friday?”

Holiday puts down the large basket she’s carrying, and as she bends, I notice a small sparkly American flag fastening some of her hair back. “That sounds good to me.”

I’m too busy trying not to stare at her to be quick enough to open the bottle. Hendricks gets there first, pours out two glasses, and hands them over.

“What a perfect way to start a weekend,” Clementine says, lifting her glass. “Cheers. And so lovely Holiday could join us, especially on America’s birthday.”

A warm glow spreads over Holiday’s cheeks. “Why, thank you. I accept on behalf of all Americans.”

“What would you normally do to celebrate today?”

She brings the glass to her lips. “Usually watch my brother play baseball, barbecue, hang out with family. When we were growing up, we watched a big fireworks display. It’s not the Fourth without fireworks.”

I don’t look at Alex or Hendricks. I don’t need to. I can feel their eyes on me, identical smirks curving their lips.

Okay so? It’s not a big deal that I realized this week’s family supper would fall on July fourth and that Holiday would be coming, and subsequently asked James to put together a display that would make her feel like she wasn’t missing out on celebrations.

Anyone would have done it if they’d thought of it first.

“It certainly isn’t the Fourth without fireworks,” Alex repeats.

I ignore the mocking expression on his face. I have a feeling I’ll be ignoring it a lot this evening.

Clementine slowly spins a full three sixty, waving to Max on his fire engine. “Where are Mum and Miles?”

“Mum’s just returned from Wimbledon, so she’s changing. Miles . . . who knows?” I reply.

On cue, our mother walks through the open patio doorway at the top of the steps. She sees Max first and waves, then she spots us.

“Oh, why didn’t you tell me our guest had arrived?” Her eyes skate over Alex, Hendricks, and me with a frown before they land on Holiday, for whom her expression transforms into a broad smile. “Holiday, my dear, welcome to Burlington.”

“That’s really very kind.” Holiday puts down her glass and takes my mum’s hand, only to be pulled into a hug.

Hendricks’s brows shoot up as Alex and I watch on in astonishment.

Easing out of her grip, Holiday picks up the basket, peeling back the gingham covering.

“I brought you homemade apple pie. Apples from the cottage, and I promise they were made under supervision.” She laughs, and my mother laughs along with her.

“Thank you for the lessons Pierre is giving. And also, a little thank-you gift for tonight.” Holiday hands her a familiar orange store bag with its horse and carriage logo.

“I noticed you wearing one the other day.”