Outside the window, the countryside stretched endlessly under the unforgiving summer sun, and Victoria had never felt less ready to go home.
Chapter Three
The problem with drinking wine on trains, Sasha discovered, was that it made everything seem like a much better idea than it probably was. Including, but not limited to, agreeing to pretend to be the girlfriend of your gay best friend for two posh weeks.
"Right," she said, settling back into her seat with a plastic cup of what Ambrose had optimistically called "perfectly drinkable" wine from the buffet car. The train was mercifully air-conditioned, a blessed relief from the heat that had been slowly cooking Manchester all day. "Tell me about this family of yours before I completely embarrass myself."
Ambrose, who was already most of the way through his second cup and looking significantly more relaxed than he had during his earlier packing panic, stretched his long legs into the aisle. "Where to start? Well, there's Victoria, obviously. Eldest daughter, complete overachiever, works in banking and probably has her entire life planned out in color-coded spreadsheets."
"Intimidating, then."
"Terrifying," Ambrose agreed cheerfully. "But in a good way. She's brilliant, just… intense. Takes everything very seriously.You'll probably catch her on conference calls at breakfast and answering emails during dinner." He paused, swirling the wine in his cup. "She's also gorgeous, if you're into the tall, dark, and glacially professional type."
"I'm really not," Sasha lied, because she absolutely was and always had been, which was probably why her dating life was such a disaster. "What about the others?"
"Archie's the oldest and the heir, so he spends most of his time trying to prove he's responsible by bringing home wildly inappropriate women and then being surprised when father disapproves. Last month it was an American who thought you could buy the title that you wanted."
Sasha nearly choked on her wine. "Please tell me you're joking."
"I wish I were," Ambrose grinned. "Poor Cathy just stands there watching it all with this long-suffering expression."
"Cathy?"
"Gardener's daughter, works on the grounds. Lovely girl, completely in love with Archie, who's too thick to notice because he's too busy chasing after women he thinks will make a good lady of the manor." Ambrose shook his head. "It's like watching someone repeatedly walk into a glass door."
"And Sophie?"
"Fifteen, wants to be a vet, smarter than all of us put together, and currently in her mysterious teenage phase where she disappears for hours at a time. Mother's convinced she's either developing some deep artistic passion or planning world domination."
Sasha was beginning to get a clearer picture of what she was walking into. "Right. And your parents?"
"Father disappears into his greenhouse the moment he arrives and only emerges for meals and to make vaguely disapproving noises about whatever Archie's latest girlfriendhas done. Mother flutters around making sure everyone's comfortable and trying to pretend she doesn't notice that half the family is keeping secrets from the other half."
"Which leaves Grandma."
Ambrose's expression grew slightly more serious. "Grandmother is… formidable. Eighty-three, sharp as a tack, and has very definite opinions about how things should be done. She's not unkind, exactly, just… traditional. She believes in duty and proper behavior and suitable marriages." He looked at Sasha hopefully. "She'll love you. You're charming and funny and exactly the sort of girl she'd want me to settle down with if I were…"
"Straight?"
"Exactly."
Sasha took another sip of wine and watched the countryside flash past outside the window. It was beautiful, she had to admit, all rolling green hills and ancient stone walls, the sort of pastoral perfection that belonged on postcards. "So the plan is I just… act like your girlfriend? Hold your hand and gaze at you adoringly?"
"Something like that."
"Right. And what's our story? How did we meet? How long have we been together? What are my intentions toward you?"
"Honorable, obviously." Ambrose sniffed. "I thought we'd say we met at that house party where we actually met, which has the advantage of being true. We've been seeing each other casually for a few months but decided to make it official recently. Easy."
"And everyone else will know that we’re making this all up."
"Yes. But on the bright side, they’ll be far too well-brought-up and English to mention it. Plus, father will be thrilled that we’re catering to grandmother’s values, so there’s that."
Sasha wasn't entirely convinced, but the wine was making everything seem more manageable. "And what am I supposed tosay I do for work? Somehow I don't think 'recently fired waitress with no prospects' is going to impress your grandmother."
"You're between positions," Ambrose said firmly. "Exploring your options."
"Right. Between positions." Sasha raised her plastic cup in a mock toast. "Here's to creative interpretations of unemployment."
