Ridhi and Armando were both aristocrats. Under the rules of the game, if they got caught in a compromising position, then Armando could choose either to banish Ridhi from the show or to wed her. Not a real marriage, of course. But a spectacular fake Regency fake wedding, with all the fake trimmings. We were three-quarters of the way through filming. The footage we werecapturing now was notionally for episode nine of twelve. We had a ball to film tonight, and two new contestants joining the cast, but it was the perfect spot in the season for a wedding.
“Cristina and Ridhi are too tight, she won’t say a word even if she knows,” I said. “I miss Ellie and Kiki. They wouldn’t have thought twice about sticking their oar in.”
Indira lit two cigarettes and sucked on them both. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement in the yard through the window. William, in his riding gear, headed for the stables. My God, he was fit. But now I was getting to know him, I found myself noticing the depth behind the posh, beefy lughead exterior—his kindness, his passion, his ridiculous but adorable moral code. He caught me staring at him through the window and, from across the yard, waggled a finger at me in the universal gesture forCome here. I looked over at Indira, who was shouting orders into a walkie-talkie, and indicated with my thumb I was popping out.
“Are you going to tell me you’ve come up with fifty-two grand’s worth of cash?” I asked, closing the gap between William and me.
“Fifty-two? What happened to twenty-six?”
“You didn’t come up with anything yesterday.”
“Goodness, all right, Madam Lash. As a matter of fact, I’ve been on the phone to Wetherby’s Auction House all morning. Someone’s coming up from London to value the artwork after filming’s finished. May as well get rid of all of the spookier portraits. The ones that make the house feel like a creepy museum.”
“But how will you fill all those gaping holes?”
(Yes, I know. It flew right over his head. I really missed the Brent Boys at times like this.)
“Mum’s got some wonderful Kazimierczuks in the Dower House. Paintings of hedgerows and wildflower meadows and,you know, stuff people actually like to look at. I thought I’d commission the artist to paint a few more Buckford scenes to replace all the creepy bestockinged children by Reynolds. Should raise a couple of millionandlift the spirits.”
That put my story about eight pence on a kilo of carrots into perspective.
“You’ve been busy,” I said. “I’m proud of you.”
“Everyone is putting their shoulder to the wheel. Bramley’s selling his underwear on the internet.”
“Bramley makes underwear?”
“No.”
I tried not to process that news. “That reminds me, we need to get you on TikTok.”
Achilles neighed.
“All right boy, I’m coming.”
I followed William into the stables. He disappeared into the tack room and came out with his saddle.
“How about you, young master Topham, did you have any luck with your phone calls this morning?”
I’d almost forgotten.
“It’s a mixed bag. Father said no. I’m sorry.” In fact, we’d had a blazing row on the phone. It had taken two coffees to summon the energy to call him, and he could not have been more contemptuous or dismissive. “Said he didn’t think the Love Manor was an appropriate venue to host his beloved car club.”
“Well, a pox on him!” William flipped the saddle up onto Achilles’s back and started fiddling with the leather straps.
“But Sunny and Ludo said yes. They’ll come up after filming has finished to have a look at the place. They said it sounds like the ideal venue for their wedding. Sunny’s chuffed to bits. He’sveryproud of his Leicestershire heritage.”
“Oi, Romeo!” Indira shouted across the yard. “Where the fuck art thou, Romeo?”
“I have to go,” I said. “But good work on the art.”
William nodded. “Good work on the phone calls.”
William’s face moved towards mine, and I thought he was going to peck me on the cheek, so I turned—and he kissed me on the ear.
“Petey Boy, we have a fucking wedding to organise!” Indira shouted.
“Coming!”
