"Ican't do this," Sasha said, staring at her reflection in the ornate mirror of her guest room. She'd changed into what she hoped was appropriate dinner attire, a navy dress that Ambrose had declared "suitably girlfriend-ish but not trying too hard", but she still felt like she was wearing a costume.
Ambrose, who was pacing behind her, paused mid-stride. "What do you mean you can't do this? We've been practicing all afternoon."
"Yes, and I've forgotten everything." Sasha turned away from the mirror to face him. "What's our story again? How did we meet? When did we start dating? What's my favorite thing about you that isn't your excellent taste in men?"
"House party, three months ago, and my sparkling wit," Ambrose recited automatically, then resumed his pacing. "Though at this rate, I'm going to forget my own name and introduce myself as Lukas by accident."
"That would certainly solve the fake girlfriend problem."
"Not helpful, Sash."
She watched him wear a groove in the Persian rug and felt a pang of sympathy. His usually perfect hair was disheveled from running his hands through it. "Poor Amb, you’ve got itbad, haven’t you? It'll be fine," she said, trying to project more confidence than she felt. "We'll sit together, make appropriate couple-y conversation, and try not to let your grandmother discover that you're madly in love with the head gardener."
"Right. Fine. Easy." Ambrose stopped pacing and straightened his tie for the fifth time. "What could possibly go wrong?"
Famous last words, Sasha thought, but she kept that observation to herself. "This was your idea," she pointed out. "We can stop any time you’d like."
He gritted his teeth. "No, let me have one damn summer of being the golden child for once."
Sasha sighed but followed him down the stairs anyway.
THE DINING ROOM was exactly what she'd expected from a house like this: impossibly grand, with a table that could probably seat half of Manchester. Portraits of stern-looking ancestors glowered down from the walls, probably all judging her table manners preemptively.
Lady Alexandra, Ambrose’s grandmother, sat at one end of the table, resplendent in midnight blue silk and pearls that probably cost more than Sasha's annual rent. Victoria was seated across from Sasha, looking elegant in a simple black dress that somehow managed to be both professional and devastating. Sasha thought she might hiccup from stress, but she sat down and didn’t break anything, so that was a good start.
Less of a good start was catching Victoria take a sneaky glance at her, so that Sasha’s heart rate tripled just as Ambrose’s grandmother spoke to her.
"So, Sasha," Lady Alexandra said, delicately cutting her salmon, "Ambrose tells me you met at a house party?"
"That's right," Sasha replied, grateful for solid ground. She could do this.
"Mmm. And what was it that first attracted you to my grandson?"
Sasha felt Ambrose tense beside her. They hadn't actually practiced this part. "Well, he's very…" She glanced at Ambrose, who was staring at her with barely concealed panic. "Charming. And funny. And he has this way of making everyone feel comfortable."
"True," Lady Alexandra conceded. "Though he's always been rather too comfortable, if you ask me. When he was twelve, he tried to convince the vicar that communion wine would be more 'spiritually uplifting' if we served it chilled with little umbrellas."
"That does sound like him," Sasha said, because it very much did.
"And you, Ambrose," Lady Alexandra continued, "what drew you to Sasha?"
"Her eyes," Ambrose said immediately, then looked mortified. "I mean, her laugh. She has this wonderful laugh that just lights up a room."
"Mmm," she said again. "Though I must say, it's refreshing to see you settling down at last. At your age, I was already married with two children."
"Times were different then, Grandmother," Victoria said diplomatically.
"Indeed they were. Young people today take far too long making up their minds about everything." Lady Alexandra turned her sharp gaze back to Sasha. "I do hope you're not one of those modern girls who thinks marriage is passé."
Sasha felt trapped. Marriage barely figured on her radar. "Oh, no. Not at all. Marriage is… um, lovely."
"The roses this year are particularly spectacular," Sir Archibald was saying. "Lukas has done excellent work with the new varieties."
"Oh yes," Ambrose said dreamily, "he's absolutely wonderful. So…" He stopped abruptly as Sasha kicked him under the table. "So knowledgeable. About roses. And flowers. And things."
Silence fell over the table.
"Good staff are important," Lady Alexandra said slowly.
