Mara mock-glares at her. They’ve been friends for years—Mara is Honor’s publicist too, and it was Honor who put us in touch. Mara’s told me nothing matches the shit she had to deal with when Honor was married to Jackson.
‘Do I need to slap you with an NDA on this?’
‘No need.’ Honor hugs herself delightedly. ‘I’ll just retell it to myself when I need cheering up.’
‘I’m struggling here.’ Nora rests her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. ‘I’m fucking furious with you, Elle, for caving like this. You know what that twat did to you—I’ll never forget what a state you were in when he dumped you. And I’ll never forgive him. But on the other hand, you’re telling me that you basically had sex in real life with Dominic Coventry? I mean, for fuck’s sake. How am I supposed to deal with that? You jammy fucking bitch.’
‘Sorry, Nor.’ I do feel a bit guilty. I wish I could share Josh-as-Dom around with everyone, as, like, therapy. Or a reward for getting through the week. Rent-a-Duke on a Friday night. Now there’s a business idea.
She raises her head and stares at me glumly. ‘Did he have one of those billowing shirts on? Did you get to rip it off?’
I squish my face up apologetically. ‘He was naked, I’m afraid. He had a robe on, obviously, to get to the trailer. But he was naked. Aside from his fake sideburns, basically.’ I make a mental note that if I do—bigif—happen to fall into a heated de-fluffing situation with Josh Lander in my trailer again, I should ask him to wear that shirt. Because Nora’s right. That would be so hot. And maybe breeches, too. And boots. May as well go for the full ducal experience.
The weather is holdingup at Painshill Park and the cherry blossoms are out, making it a perfectly pretty backdrop for Georgiana to promenade. My dear betrothed is also looking perfectly pretty. So pretty, in fact, I eye-fuck him as soon as he emerges from his trailer (conveniently next to mine. I shall note that for later).
Our relationship (that’s relationship with a smallr, FYI) has improved no end since our wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am moment in my trailer earlier this week. Shooting with him is no end of fun. The banter is filthy and intoxicating: so much so it feels like foreplay. I mean, who are we kidding? I’m totally going to de-fluff him again.
And while I don’t think Alyssa or Abigail or Kate have guessed, exactly, they’ve certainly noticed a shift. The lack of excruciating awkwardness between us has meant we get our takes far more quickly, which is great for everyone.
I’ve stayed away from Josh outside of the studio, though. He suggested we eat together in my room last night, and though he framed it as a very throwaway suggestion under the auspices of running lines, I had my suspicions. I told him I was staying in London last night, so it wasn’t an outright rejection, but our dynamic is intriguing.
If I were observing him closely (which I absolutely am, to the point of being obsessive), I’d say he’s interested. He seems relieved we’re getting on well, he’s enjoying our sparring, and he’s been very attentive. But I sense he’s holding off, trying to hold himself back from coming on too heavy with me.
If that’s the case, I’d tell him he’s absolutely right to do that. Because no matter how amusing this is, no matter how secretly high I am on the sex we had and the delicious tension between us, I’m not stupid, and I’m not a masochist. Yes, he’sbehaving like a man who’s captivated by his leading lady, but he’s behaved like that before. He was like thatall the timebefore, and a fuck load of good it did me.
He called the shots.
He walked away.
This time, I’m calling the shots.
He saunters up to me as the crew members fanny around with setup. Our very new, and entertaining, thing is to talk dirty to each other before we shoot, while staying in character. It really bloody works. We’re fit to burst by the time we start filming. Working on the basis that Josh can manage an erection far better when he’s in a coat than naked on a bed, my objective here is most definitely to fluff him up.
The scene we’re shooting at the park takes place between the engagement and the wedding. Dominic’s objective in it is to persuade Georgiana to make use of the expedited marriage licence the archbishop has granted them, because he cannot wait to get in her pants.
Wait.
Nice ladies in those days didn’t wear pants.
He can’t wait to lift her skirts and have his way, basically.
‘You’re looking ravishing, Miss Kenworthy.’
‘Thank you, Your Grace. My, my, what gleaming boots you have on today.’
‘All the better to dazzle you with, Miss Kenworthy.’
‘Quite the peacock, aren’t you? And don’t your furry friends look particularly lustrous this morning?’
I reach up and touch his sideburn.
‘All the better to give you friction when I get my face between your legs, my beloved betrothed.’
I smirk in a decidedly unvirginal way.
‘Is that the case? I wouldn’t know, Your Grace.’
‘That’s why you will persuade your mother to move our wedding forward.’ He takes a step, so he’s towering in frontof me, and I look up. Fuck. He’s so bloody hot; it’s a total pain. And seriously enjoyable. His brown eyes bore into mine. I can feel the heat from here. ‘I am not a man who takes kindly to being kept waiting, Miss Kenworthy. I know what I want, and that is you. And I want younow, dammit.’
