Page 99 of Love ad Lib
Estelle was frowning as if she couldn’t work out what her problem was.
‘Only if you don’t tell Henry,’ she repeated.
‘Okay, okay. I won’t tell him. Right. Is one of them a man riding a horse?’
She nodded.
‘Go on then, I can’t bloody mind-read.’
Libby felt naughty and excited all rolled into one. Telling Estelle made all her Henry-specific fantasies real.
‘Have you ever seen the TV series ofPride and Prejudicewith Colin Firth as Mr Darcy?’
Estelle shook her head. ‘I haven’t, but I would bet my bottom dollar that one of your fantasies involves Henry walking out of a lake in a very wet white shirt.’
Libby blushed and Estelle shrieked, causing people to look up.
‘Knew it! He’s wearing a white shirt today. Want me to push him in?’
Omg yes!‘No!’
‘You’re no fun. Okay, go on, what else?’
Libby sighed happily. ‘Dancing at a ball, spraining my ankle and having to be carried by him, taking tea in the parlour and trying to figure out a way to be alone, going for a carriage ride, being caught kissing in a garden and him duelling over my honour.’
‘Holy shit.’
‘And beautiful dresses,’ she added. ‘It’s all about the frocks.’
They entered one of the gazebos and Estelle handed her a tumbler of Pimms.
‘Right,’ she said out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Here’s the plan. Have a couple of these, then I’ll push you over. Henry will challenge me to a duel, and I’ll punch him. He’ll manfully recover, lift you up, stagger back to the Manor and kiss you in a hedge. Will that do for starters?’
Libby was still laughing when Henry joined them.
He glanced cautiously between them. ‘Having fun?’
‘Oh yes,’ his sister replied. ‘I’ve just been looking inside Libby’s head and it’s a very interesting place, I can tell you. Can you dance a cotillion?’
‘A what?’
‘Estelle,’ said Libby, with what she hoped was a warning tone.
‘Nothing,’ she replied. ‘Finn should be coming along later. Fancy being beaten in the Foxbrooke boat race another year?’
‘He beat me because you were in the boat with him. Two against one is hardly fair.’
His sister shrugged. ‘You’re meant to be the rowing champ. I think you’ve just lost your touch. Right, I’m going to ring Eveline and see where the arse she is. You two go and have fun.’
She strode off.
Libby and Henryhelped themselves to plates of food and were about to sit on a picnic blanket to eat, when Gram-Gram waved them over. She was holding court at a table in a gazebo with her daughter, Charlotte, and Charlotte’s large family. Libby was immediately on edge. To an extent, she could relax around Henry’s parents and siblings. Despite their wealth and eccentricities they were friendly, and she didn’t spend all her time feeling socially inferior.
This branch of the family was a completely different matter. Henry’s aunt, Lady Charlotte Hatton-Blythe, and her husband, Sir Humphrey, oozed posh from every pore. If Charlotte resembled a horse, Humphrey was a walrus, with his enormous jowls and habit of loudly exhaling before he said anything. Their three children and spouses were regarding Libby as one might an exotic new specimen encountered at a zoo.
‘Are you enjoying Foxbrooke, Elizabeth?’ Charlotte asked, a cucumber sandwich in her hand, her pinkie finger extended.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied. ‘It has been lovely.’
