Valentine Nook: Chapter 15

“Lando, I forgot to ask about your document last week,” my solicitor barks down the phone. “If you’ve had a change of heart, that’s fine. We’ll keep it on file until you’re ready. If you still want to go down that route.”

Holiday is paused on the TV screen. Somehow, I’ve managed to stop it at the exact moment when her face beams with a huge smile.

It’s the smile I’ve come to know, though everything else about her is different—dark hair, brown contact lenses, not one freckle appearing on her nose.

But underneath all the makeup, she’s still Holiday. And she’s mesmerizing.

I can’t tear my eyes away. She steals every scene she’s in, and even though I’m only two-thirds through, this might be the best film I’ve ever seen. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ

I was supposed to be working, but after the first two calls of the day almost put me to sleep, I lay back on the sofa in my study and somehow began watching the movie Alex had been raving about.

“Lando, you there?”

Typically, Arthur never introduces himself, just launches straight into whatever it is he wants, but no one could mistake his crusty baritone for anyone else. And being a lawyer, he likes to get to the point.

Time is money and all that.

“Sorry, yes, I’m here. What did you say?”

I get up to stretch my legs and open the window for a blast of fresh air. Outside, Max is playing with Dolly and Hamish on the lawn. He’s set up a series of mini agility courses, and he’s trying to bribe them over each jump with a biscuit.

“The document you were signing. Did you change your mind?”

I chuckle. “Which particular document? I must have signed a dozen for you since Monday.”

He tuts, and I know he’s rolling his eyes. “The primogeniture.”

I freeze.

I’d completely forgotten all about the papers Arthur had drawn up to start the process of changing the line of succession for the Burlington Dukedom.

I signed it and asked James to courier it back to Arthur. I never gave it another thought because that was the day I met Holiday.

Six weeks and I haven’t thought about much else.

I scratch through my beard, my eyes drifting back to the screen on the wall, so I switch it off. Holiday Simpson is far too distracting for her own good.

“You never received it?”

“No, sir. I checked the files this morning.”

“It should have been couriered. What happens if it’s lost?”

“If you still want to sign it, I’ll send you another one.”

Hearing a cheer from outside, I find Max has managed to get Dolly over the first jump, but Hamish has decided it’s far too energetic for him, and he’s taking a quick nap. When Dolly gives up jumping to do the same, Max picks up a bucket, takes it over to the edge of the lawn, and crouches.

I just know it’s going to be filled with snails. It’s rained every evening since the thunderstorm last week, and snails are everywhere.

“Lando—”

“Sorry. Leave it with me, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Fine. Speak soon.” He ends the call in the same brusque manner he started it.

I drop down into my desk chair and think.

There’s a framed photo of my dad and me when I was eleven years old. I’m sitting on a stable door, and my father’s old horse Zeus is poking his head out while my father looks on laughing. It’s one of my favorite photos of us, which is why the photo belongs on the corner of my desk.

I stare at it now.

“Come on, Dad. What would you do?” I mumble. “Mum has been such a pain since Caroline. She won’t leave me alone.”

As I speak the words aloud, I realize that’s not entirely accurate. My mother has left me alone recently. Aside from a couple of less-than-subtle allusions to Holiday, she hasn’t brought up my dating life in over a month.

It has to be some kind of record. Who am I kidding? Going one day without bringing it up would be a record.

Picking up the phone to call James, I put it back down. I could do with a stretch of the legs, so I’ll go and see him instead.

I take the shortcut past the swimming pool, which I’m shocked to find is empty. I assumed Clementine decamped here at the first hint of a sunny day, and truth be told, I’m a little disappointed because when Clementine is here, Holiday’s usually around too.

My groin tightens at the thought of Holiday out here in her bikini.

Even after the last two hours watching her on screen, I have a sudden craving to see her in the flesh, all blond hair, blue eyes, and freckles. I think about the way they disappear into her hairline every time she smiles, and how her nose wrinkles up right before she belts out a laugh.

When my mind drifts back to the waterfall, my need to see her becomes an incessant tugging in my chest. It’s been a long time since I wanted someone so badly that the sight of them literally made my body ache.

But that’s nothing on how I feel about that deep rumble from her throat when she came on my fingers. Raw, husky, and genuine, as my name fell off her lips like a plea.

And fuck me if that sound didn’t do something to me.

She might be one of the most famous actresses in the world, watched by millions of people, but under that waterfall, she was for my eyes only. Mine.

I don’t know how long I can go before we finish what we started in the glen because as desperate as I was to fuck her right there on the rock, I didn’t want to rush her. Or me.

But a couple of days have passed, and all it’s done is solidify how quickly Holiday has gotten under my skin and how needy I am to see her again. I’m ruminating on it when I walk across the yard and into James’s office.

Thoughts of Holiday dry up, and my face immediately drops into a deep frown.

James, my mother, Alex, Miles, and Hendricks all stop talking. It’s a scenario so bizarre I don’t even know where to begin, only that there’s no question they were talking about me seconds before I entered.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Miles replies, shifting closer to the window.

The fact he hasn’t cracked a joke but also won’t look at me means it’s absolutely not nothing.

“What is going on?” I repeat.

“Nothing, darling,” my mother coos. “We were all here separately. It’s a coincidence, that’s all.”

James sits down behind his desk. I’ve known the man twenty years, and as stoic as he might seem, he has a terrible poker face.

Alex and Hendricks are staring at the floor, and my irritation begins to take hold.

“If one of you doesn’t tell me right now why the fuck you’re all in here, then I’m really going to lose my shit.”

“Tell him,” Miles presses, staring at Alex, who’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Caroline’s getting married.”

“Who the fuck’s Caroline?” I snap a second before it hits. “Caroline? My Caroline, Caroline Montague?”

Hendricks gives one deep nod.

Well, fuck me. That didn’t take long.

“Who to?” Though I don’t need any guesses to figure it out.

This time, Alex speaks. “Jeremy.”

Wow. Okay.

I guess that’s why he’s been messaging me.

I lean back against the wall and let out a long breath. One of the louder thoughts I’ve had spinning around my brain since last December is how long had Jeremy and Caroline been screwing behind my back.

Whether it was worth throwing away our decades of friendship and a future.

It clearly was, and I don’t know how I should feel.

For so long, my presiding emotion was humiliation, and guilt that somehow it was all my fault. But now, all I can find in me is relief.

Five sets of eyes watch me process the news.

“When did you find out?”

“This morning,” Miles replies.

I don’t want to know how. I don’t want to find out it’s the latest idle gossip on the London to Oxfordshire network. I don’t want to think where the gossip will lead.

Because I know it’ll be to me. My reaction.

I dig deep. I try to find something, anything that tells me how I feel.

But there’s nothing.

And maybe that’s my answer. I don’t give a shit.

“Fine. Well, good for them. I couldn’t care less. Caroline and I should never have been together in the first place.”

My mother purses her lips. I’d imagine she doesn’t hold the same opinion, just like I know I’m going to hear why.

“It’s so tacky. How dare they announce this so soon after everything they put you through?” she fumes, her nostrils flaring. “You should have been the one to announce any marriage first. And you’ve seemed so happy recently, darling.”

Over by the window, Miles bites down a smile.

“I’m still happy, Mum.”

“Well . . . I don’t know. I think perhaps you need to start dating again.”

Oh fuck no. I’m not going through this for a second time. Miles snorts, but his smile dies when he takes one look at my face.

“Enough,” I shout, loud enough for all five of them to raise their eyebrows. I try again, softer this time but no less firm as I pin them all with a glare. “Enough. This goes for all of you.”

“What’ve I done?” Miles grumbles.

“I do not want to hear one more word about Caroline.” I hold my finger up as my mother opens her mouth. “Nope. I’m still speaking. Today, we draw a line under the whole situation. And I need you all—Mother—to back the fuck off. Caroline getting married does not give you the green light to start banging on about setting me up again.” I stare at my mother, who looks on the verge of bursting if she doesn’t get to speak. “If you think I’m happier, it’s because you haven’t been watching every move I make.”

Miles coughs out a word that sounds suspiciously like Holiday, which has Alex smirking.

My head falls back against the wall, and I scrub a hand through my hair. Glancing at James, I remember the reason I came to see him in the first place.

“As you’re all here, I should tell you that a couple of months ago, I asked Arthur to draw up papers to begin the process of changing primogeniture. My current plan is to leave everything to Max.”

I’m not sure who’s louder in their outburst—my mother or Hendricks.

“What the fuck, Lando?”

My mother doesn’t swear, but her explosion is no less angry. “Absolutely not.”

“This is Max’s future. Were you going to talk to me about it?”

I turn to Hendricks. “Yes, of course. Once it had all been settled.”

“Did you sign these papers?”

“I did,” I reply and look at James, “but it appears Arthur never received them.”

To his credit, James doesn’t even bother to deny it. He just reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a brown envelope.

“I didn’t want you to do something you regretted.”

“Why would I regret leaving all this to Max? Everything we’ve built, everything Dad built. Max is the next generation. Besides, it’s a backup measure in case I never meet anyone.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous, Lando.”

My head snaps around. “Mother, I don’t know if I’m going to get married and have children, but I’m not going to fucking do it with you breathing down my neck only to land with someone else like Caroline.”

Her lips purse again. “What about Holiday?”

“What about Holiday?”

“You’ve been spending time together⁠—”

“I gave her a ride home from London. That’s all.”

I dare not look at any of my brothers. I haven’t said one word to them about Holiday since Miles announced my crush at family supper. But it’s widely agreed among our family that, of everyone, I’m the worst at lying.

They’ll take one look at my face and know the ride home from London is not, in fact, all.

“Serious question here. Are you going to be my second brother to fall in love with an American?”

When Alex and I splutter at the same time, it’s almost like we rehearsed it. Leave it to Miles to break the tension by adding more tension.

“I’m not in love,” Alex snaps.

This time, all eyes land on him. Miles’s, Hendricks’s, and mine anyway. My mother rolls hers, though I’m not sure if that’s at Miles or Alex or me. Likely all of us.

“What? I’m not. I hooked up with a girl last Christmas, and that’s all it was. Nothing more. A hookup. A fling.”

On second thought, maybe Alex is worse at lying than me.

“C’mon, Al. I’m sure Haven will call you back at some point. Maybe she’s busy. Or did you check that you definitely had the correct number for her store?” Miles asks, wrapping his arms around Alex’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

“Get off me,” he snaps in return.

Thankfully, it’s enough of a distraction for the conversation to move away from Holiday and back to the reason I’m here in the first place.

“Orlando,” my mother snaps. “What do you intend to do with that?”

She’s pointing at the envelope on James’s desk.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I suck in a cheek. Alex and Miles stop dicking about, and the room falls silent.

“If you promise not to mention my dating life until the end of the year, then it can go back in the drawer.”

I don’t know why I give the end of the year as a deadline, except by the end of the year, Holiday will no longer be in Valentine Nook.

My mother pushes out of her chair and smooths down her shirt and trousers. “I can live with that.”

No one moves until Miles slaps his thigh. “Right. On that note, I’m going over to Foxleigh. Any of you losers want a ride up to the house?”

Itake Miles up on his offer, and he drops me off at the front door.

On the way, we pass the side of the house where the Burlington staff live when they’re on duty. It’s also where everyone parks their cars, and it’s the nearest spot to the kitchen entrance.

“Isn’t that the car you gave to Holiday?” Miles points toward the cleanest car in the lot.

The cleanest of all the Burlington Estate cars, anyway.

The rush of adrenaline is instant, even when I try to bat it away, given Miles’s presence.

“I don’t know.”

“It is. I’m certain it is. I recognize the number plate as it’s parked outside my cottage every day.”

“So?”

“So are you sure you want me to drop you at the front door?” He snorts. “You can just get out here.”

I don’t bother to deign a response, but when he pulls up at the hall and I hop out, he calls me back.

“Lan, I meant what I said the other day. It’s good to see you more like you again. Fuck Caroline and fuck Jeremy. You deserve to be happy, and if Holiday Simpson makes you happy, then I say you should go for it. If you don’t believe me, you should take a look at that photo, if you haven’t seen it already.”

For a moment, I’m too choked up to speak. Miles, for all his annoying habits—of which there are too many to mention—is also incredibly intuitive, kind, and loyal to a fault. Jeremy was his friend too, and I know that neither he nor any of my siblings have spoken to Jeremy since.

“Thanks, Milo.”

I don’t even bother turning left to my study. I march straight across the hallway and down a short passage to a set of stone stairs, following it until I arrive at my destination.

The scent of sugar and cinnamon fills the air, and I hear Pierre’s thick French accent through the door.

Peering around quietly so I can watch without disturbing them, Holiday’s leaning over an impressive ball of pastry. She’s all red cheeks, puffing away a strand of hair while dangerously wielding a rolling pin like it’s a baseball bat.

I rarely come down here, so I wasn’t expecting there to be so many people, but I suspect that Holiday’s presence has the exact effect on the Burlington house staff as Miles does in the estate yard.

I don’t manage to stay secret for as long as I’d hoped.

“Oh, Your Grace. Can I help you with something?”

I turn to find Cynthia, Pierre’s sous chef, staring at me as Holiday’s eyes snap up.

Busted.

“Oh no, thank you. I just came to find your newest recruit.” I smile over at Pierre, who for once isn’t wearing his signature frown. “Can I borrow her for a moment?”

He puffs out a response and throws his hands in the air, which could mean both yes and no.

I’ll take it as yes and gesture for Holiday to follow me away from the prying eyes of twenty house staff. Her face is impossibly fresh, totally devoid of makeup. But she’s smiling, a reaction that is rare in Pierre’s kitchen.

My craving to see her has been replaced by a desperation to kiss her, which I fight by swiping my thumb over a smudge of flour on her cheek.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How’s your morning been?”

“Good, how’s yours?”

“Better now I’ve laid eyes on you. What’ve you been making?”

“Pies. Pierre said my pastry ‘needs work.’” She air quotes with a roll of her eyes.

I bark out a laugh. “Well, I won’t keep you.” For what surprisingly isn’t the first time, I decide to take Miles’s advice and go for it. “But I came to ask if you would like to meet me at The One True Love later?”

Holiday grins wide, rises on her tiptoes, and brushes her lips to mine. “I would love to meet you later.”