Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“Do the grandparents know yet?”
“No. That I’m leaving for her to decide, but if anyone asks, we’re dating.”
Freya finished her tea and stood up. “So you’re keeping that one up.”
“Yep. It gets Grandpa off my back. I’ll take the heat for not introducing her properly, and it’ll be fine.”
“You’re awfully optimistic, William. I do admire that about you sometimes. I also mock it, but that’s not relevant.” She put her empty cup in the sink and looked at me. “You know the two of you are far too comfortable for this fake relationship trope you’re living out, don’t you?”
“Trope?”
“Yes. In books, that’s a trope. Where they usually fall in love at the end and live happily ever after like Cinderella and Prince Charming,” she said. “And judging by the look on your face, you’re halfway there.”
I picked up the cup of tea and looked at the photo of little Grace and Freya and our mums. “Don’t you have wedding stuff to be doing?”
“That’s exactly what I’d say if I was pretending I wasn’t in love with my fake girlfriend.”
“Piss off.”
***
“There you are. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
Grace looked up from the sofa in the library and grinned at me. “You left directions to the library. Where else did you think I’d be?”
“I don’t know. Being chased by Chewy?”
“Damn bird will be the death of me,” Grandpa said, emerging from behind a bookshelf. “It’s only you, Will, isn’t it?”
I did a double take at his quick appearance. “Where did you come from?”
“He’s hiding,” Grace said, carefully turning the page of her book. “Everyone has been shouting at him, so I’m keeping a lookout. We thought you were your sister for a moment.”
I looked at the two of them and their… well, not so unlikely alliance, actually. I wasn’t surprised they were both in here looking through what appeared to be history books.
“No. Freya is surprisingly calm this morning. Whatever you said to her earlier, worked,” I said to Grace.
“Oh, good. I found her practically hyperventilating about shoes and had to talk her down. I’m glad it worked.”
Grandpa looked at me. “Keep this one.”
Grace laughed, shaking her head.
What kind of an alternate universe had I walked into?
“Hey, did you know our families have history?” Grace looked over at me. “We’ve been trawling through the history books all morning.”
I looked at Grandpa.
“He knows,” she said, nonplussed. “Apparently Granny shows me off whenever she can, so your grandma recognised me right away.”
Grandpa nodded sagely. “We thought there had to be a reason for you simply introducing her as Grace, so we didn’t say anything.”
What the fuck was going on?
Grace looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. “I explained we didn’t want anyone to put any expectations on our relationship, so we kept it to ourselves since we haven’t been together long.”
I was starting to think she would be good in international espionage.
“Right. Sorry, Grandpa. I wasn’t bringing her originally because of that, but it was better than who Mum said you were trying to set me up with.”
“That’s not the compliment you think it is,” she replied breezily.
Grandpa chuckled, pulling a book off the shelf. “She’s right. Anyway, we respect your decision, and now that I’ve seen for myself you have good taste in women, I’ll leave you to it.”
No.
I’d walked into a parallel universe.
“Thanks,” I said slowly. “So what’s this about our family history?”
Grace picked up a book, showing it to me. “It’s four generations back,” she said, flipping the pages. “This… is my great-great-great-great aunt… for simplicity’s sake.”
I perched on the arm of the sofa, leaning over her. “That’s the eighth Duchess of Glenroch.”
“Aye,” Grandpa said. “Married the eighth Duke.”
I looked at Grace. “Is this your way of breaking up with me?”
She tossed her head back, laughing. “No, don’t worry. And even if they did have kids, we’d be so far removed it wouldn’t matter.”
“They didn’t have kids? How did the line continue?”
“Technically, they had a little girl,” Grace explained. “It’s all quite sad, if interesting to look back at now.”
“Aye,” Grandpa repeated. “The bairn was stillborn, and Winnie suffered a haemorrhage after her birth. They didn’t have the medical tools necessary to save her, and she passed away.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That’s a shame.”
“The eighth duke, Angus, went on to marry his younger brother’s mistress and had three sons,” Grace continued. “By all accounts, it seems like it was quite the scandal at the time because there was a dispute over who the father of the eldest boy was.”
“I remember reading about that but couldn’t remember which duke. Is that why the dukedom went to the second son?”
“Yes and no,” Grandpa replied. “It was argued that even if the eldest son—John—wasn’t the duke’s son, he was still of the male line, and technically able to inherit.”
“That was the duke’s brother’s argument, anyway. Unsurprisingly,” Grace added.