Page 6 of From Best Friend to Bride
Thank God.
It wasn’t like I knew who he was, either.
And I really had no idea how I was supposed to get out of this. I had even less of a clue how I could possibly grant her wish to see me get married.
It wasn’t like I could pluck a husband out of a two-pence machine in an arcade, was it? Nor was a husband likely to show up as special buy in the middle aisles of Aldi or Lidl.
Although if a supermarket was going to sell romantic partners, I’d have my money on it being one of those.
I pulled up at a red light and tapped my fingers against the steering wheel. This was one situation I couldn’t weasel my way out of easily—there was no way that Nana would accept me saying that she’d misunderstood or that I hadn’t meant it.
I needed help.
There was only one place I could go. I couldn’t unload this on any of my family—Mum would tell me it was my own fault, my sister would laugh so hard she’d pee herself, and I certainly couldn’t bring it up with Nana.
Most of my friends were at work, and if I processed this alone, there was every chance I’d be found fossilised in the foetal position in the corner of my bedroom in two hundred years.
Okay, so maybe not quite two hundred years, but I definitely didn’t want to be alone.
At least if I died of sadness at Hawthorne House, Fred would make sure I was appropriately immortalised there.
I didn’t even know if he was at home.
He’d spent the last few days in the Lake District with one of his fancy aristocrat friends, Max, to help him pick out an engagement ring for his girlfriend, and I didn’t know when exactly he was coming home.
I also didn’t know why Max had asked him to help.
Fred didn’t know a diamond from dinosaur.
The light changed to green, and I pulled away, quickly making the turn that would take me to the ancestral home of the Earl of Coventry. The current titleholder was also known as this humble peasant’s lifelong best friend and the man my grandmother had complimented in the same way one would a top-tier racehorse.
Sometimes, I really couldn’t believe the things that came out of her mouth. Who the heck referred to a human being as ‘well-bred?’
Hawthorne House wasn’t too far outside of the small town of Hartford Green, and it didn’t take me long to pull up to the majestic iron gates that were currently closed and blocking my way.
And I wasn’t close enough to the intercom.
Ugh.
This happened every time. When would I learn exactly where to stop my car?
I backed up slightly and moved my car so I could reach it and rang the bell. It took a moment, but the line eventually crackled, and a familiar, disembodied voice said, “Welcome to Hawthorne House. May I ask your reason for visiting?”
“Harry, it’s Delilah,” I said, leaning out of my window. “Is the lord of this very fine manor back yet?”
Harry chuckled. “His Lordship has indeed returned. I’ll open the gates for you, Deli.”
“Thank you!” I sang, rolling my window back up.
Fred.
That bastard.
How dare he come back without telling me he was here?
I was going to punch him right in the kisser.
On second thought, maybe punching him wasn’t the best idea right now. I needed him to help me get out of this sticky situation my own big fat mouth had gotten me into, so it was in my best interest to be nice to him.
