Page 99 of Duchess Material

Richard was a climbing, obnoxious prick. Winston now found it difficult to believe Winston’s mother had ever put up with him. Richard was proof positive that even the brightest and most wonderful people could be blinded by illusion. Winston’s father could be charming. He could also be controlling, abusive, and a pathological liar. That was the thing with Richard Stephens. You never knew if he told the truth.

“She’s Natalie’s private secretary. She and mum keep everything rolling. Lucy is terribly clever and beyond kind.”

“So, you met her through George?”

“Yes. Many, many years ago.”

“And recently?”

“Well, we live together, so that’s how it all started.”

“She lives with you? You’re playing house and all that?”

“We just call it life, Dad.”

Winston’s agitation increased. His father’s classism was unveiled and unbridled. His jokes about playing house made it sound like Lucy and Winston were children rather than people in their twenties and thirties who had previously engaged in long-term relationships.

“What is it about her?”

“She’s sweet,” Winston said. “She makes me laugh. She takes care of me, and I take care of her. She is the best person I know. I love her very much.”

“And she doesn’t look too hard on the eyes, either.”

“Well, no. She is pretty, but that’s not why I love her.”

“That’s a hell of a rock on her finger, son! Of course, I think it’s smaller than the one your brother gave that girl of his… Sarah?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dad. It’s Sheena. They have been together for years. If you forget it, just think of The Ramones song about it and you won’t anymore. And I believe hers is bigger but that’s not the point—”

“Won’t the little woman get offended?”

“No. The ring is Gran’s,” Winston was short. “It is Gran’s ring. It meant everything to Lucy. She loves it. It suits her. Anything bigger and it would be impractical for her.”

“Why? Women prefer big things.”

Winston cringed. “Dad, she has small hands. She’s a tiny sprite of a thing.”

“Tiny hands can be good.”

Winston shivered. His father could make any sentence sound repulsive.

“How about you bring her around on Sunday?”

“Let me see if she is otherwise engaged,” Winston replied, as if managing Lucy’s diary. He did get a daily copy of Lucy’s diary and could look it up if he weren’t so lazy.

“Well la-di-da. She must be some sort of girl to turn down lunch at a country house. Where are her parents from?”

“Not from London,” Winston replied. “You will see when you meet her. You’ll love her. Everyone does.”

“Well, let me know.”

Winston hung up and let out an exasperated, “Fuck!”

Frida looked up from her nap at him.

“Yes, yes, give me the stink eye, Frida. Daddy is having a moment today.”

Winston knew that Lucy would agree to go. He just didn’t want to subject her to it. She’d want to for the same reasons he had. Lucy would not believe how bad it could be until she saw it with her own eyes. She might finally understand why Gerry never spoke to Richard while Winston was understanding of her father’s nonsense.

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