Page 78 of Serving the Couturier

“Yesterday was quite exhausting for my grandmother and mother,” Spencer replied, politely sidestepping the earl’s inquiry.

Before the earl could pursue the matter further, our attention was drawn to a couple who approached us.

“Spencer,” I whispered, “is that...?”

“Yes, it is,” Spencer whispered back. “And if you look over there, you’ll see His Majesty, the King of England.”

As I watched the King speak to a couple of women, I was in disbelief. I knew it would amaze my friends when I told them about this. I committed everything to memory, knowing they would want a detailed account when I returned.

By the end of the day, I was mentally exhausted.

“What do you say we take a trip?” Spencer suggested suddenly. “Go to my family’s country estate, just the two of us?”

I felt an immense relief at the possibility of us getting away from all the scrutiny. “That sounds perfect.”

“Excellent. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

FORTY-ONE

SPENCER

Nestledon nearly 100 acres in Oxfordshire, the country estate had been in my family for generations and had undergone modernization over the years. With an 11-bedroom main house and two four-bedroom cottages, it could comfortably accommodate the entire family when necessary. But for now, London and I had it to ourselves, along with the staff, as the estate could not run without them, especially since it was left empty for long periods of time. I made a call after the garden party the day before to ensure everything was ready for our arrival.

“It’s a beautiful day,” London said as I turned onto the long drive. “Do you think we can take a walk around the grounds? You said it’s a lot of property, right?” I reached over and took her hand, interlocking our fingers. “Yes, that sounds great. I’d love to show you everything. Some of my fondest memories from my childhood are here. My parents would bring my sisters and me here to escape the city.”

As we approached the bend, I glanced at London, eager to see her reaction when she saw the house for the first time. She lit up with excitement. “Wow, just...wow,” she said.

The staff was waiting for us and as soon as we pulled up in front of the house, a few people stepped forward and lined up at the steps. “Okay, that’s a little weird,” London said quietly. “Grandmother trained them well,” I replied wryly. “Let’s go make introductions.”

I couldn’t quite read the expression on London’s face, but I suspected it was a mix of disbelief and amazement at the formality of my family’s staff, something she might not have expected.

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend, London McCrae,” I said, looking at each person in line as I introduced them. Carlyle Wilkes was our estate manager, a ginger man in his late forties, who was the third generation of his family to work here. Next to him was Thera Stanwood, the household manager, with her dark, silver-streaked hair pulled back and her steel-gray eyes as hard and unreadable as ever. Tava Groves was the head housekeeper and cook when needed, an attractive woman in her late forties who had been with the family for over a decade. Sophie Krupin, with her copper-colored waves, was another member of the housekeeping staff. The lean young man with golden blond hair was Webster Pond, the new lead groom, hired by my father. And last, Neville Redgrave, a red-haired man I knew from the nearby town when we were kids, was now the head groundskeeper.

“I’ll do my best to remember everyone’s names,” London said with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

Thera raised an eyebrow just a fraction, but I didn’t address it. Instead, I made a polite request. “Thera, if you could see that our belongings are taken to my room, London and I would like to take a walk around the grounds. Tava, please prepare afternoon tea and something for us to warm up later before you leave for the day.”

“Yes, Sir,” Tava said, nodding.

“Yes, m’lord,” Thera said, bowing her head as well.

I smiled. “Thank you all.” I took London’s hand and led her down the path that would take us around the property. “Besides the three living spaces we have—”

London burst into laughter, cutting me off.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, amused rather than annoyed.

“You just referred to that mansion as a ‘living space,’” she said, gesturing behind us. “I mean, really?”

I chuckled. “What would you suggest I call it?”

She thought for a moment and then shook her head. “No, you’re right. There’s really no word that fits. Living spaces, it is then. Continue.”

I paused, searching for my place again.

“The glass structure attached to the main living space is the pool,” I said, glancing at her with a small smile. “It’s heated, if you want to take a swim later.”

“And that over there?” she asked, pointing to a glass building a few yards down the path.

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