Page 116 of Duchess Material

“I am so fortunate,” Lucy sighed. “Having him is like… it’s this rush. He makes me so happy. Loving him hurts at times.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Do you now?”

“Oh, stop, Lucy. You know I do. Don’t even start. I think I’m going to marry Ed someday. Not anytime soon, mind you. But there was this weird moment when I realised if I didn’t end up with him, I’d be miserable. And he had it, too. It was wild.”

Natalie concluded that this was the next step.

“When I left to come back here. He said he would be back for good after the World Cup. He didn’t think he wanted to take the Olympics. He thought it might kill him to be away from me for another year. He asked if it would be okay if he were around more. I told him it would be. We both read into that.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me to get my vacation time in now because if I don’t, I’m not going on holiday for a year?”

“Precisely. I mean, don’t get too excited almost-married-lady. We have a lot of ground to cover between now and then. And if you mention this to any member of my family, I will kill you in your sleep, but… yeah. I think that’s where the two of us are headed.”

Natalie folded her hands in her lap. Lucy leaned over and squeezed Natalie’s hand.

“Well, when it does happen, I will be here. You are the older sister I wished I had had. And now, you’re also my cousin. So, we must stick together. I will protect you from the crazies if you also don’t tell anyone about my covert wedding.”

“You know, me and state secrets? We’re pretty good—no matter what the Home Office may tell you.”

The girls burst into a fit of laughter over the conversation’s general tenor. It was so ridiculous. Lucy was in a clandestine marriage scenario. Thankfully, Winston was no Wickham. Natalie expected that speaking her own revelation aloud would feel heavy or frightening. Instead, it just was. She loved Ed. She’d marry him some day. There was no doubt about that now. And until the day she did, she’d just appreciate the ride.

* * *

Winston squinted. “I have a very clear idea of what I want.”

“Maybe something like this?” The jeweller pointed to a line of wedding bands.

“No, not any of those. Do you have a piece of paper?” Winston asked.

The jeweller looked confused but handed him what he wanted.

“And a pencil?”

The man obliged Winston, watching him sketch. Winston had a brilliant idea in his head, but no words to describe it. This was the reason he had a white board in the kitchen. Sometimes, words failed him, and Lucy needed a demonstration. Otherwise, she’d pepper him with questions like it was a game of Guess Who, only flustering him more.

“Ah, an infinity band, yes?”

“The whole way around,” Winston insisted. “But seated inside the band. It should not be too wide, either. She has tiny fingers.”

“But these will be small stones, sir.”

“It’s not about the size as much as the clarity, is it? Her current stone is near three carats. There’s no reason that it cannot just compliment it, right? I don’t want her to have to replace the stones all the time. She’s busy. She wants things to just work, and I know she won’t wear her engagement ring every day. It’s impractical. I want to maximise practicality and leave her something beautiful to wear.”

“The stone is spectacular, sir,” the jeweller murmured. “And I can obviously make something that would seat under the existing cathedral setting. But this will be minimal. You could get more sparkle if—”

Winston was determined. “No. This is what I want. And I know she will appreciate the practicality in it.”

“In my experience, women say that—”

“You do not know my fiancée,” Winston declared. “Lucy is… she will appreciate this.”

“Very well, sir,” the jeweller said.

Winston assumed he was cursing him mentally. Winston’s mother kept the place afloat both by her own purchasing habits and because she kept the Queen returning, too. The two could sink your business if they wanted to. Thus, even if the jeweller wanted to argue, he couldn’t. Winston understood. Working with other artists was frustrating. They all had their own vision. They were dreadful at compromise.

“And for yours, sir? Will she be here to choose a band for you?”

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