Oftentimes, his life felt like the novels written about his family. Authors had no idea how close to the truth they were when they spoke about the heritage of his family. If anything, they weren’t painted nearly as mad as they actually were.
It was the only cheerful thought of the night. His family being humiliated in modern literature. It was enough to bring a large smile to his face. He decided to whistle all the way to his house, all the while imagining how poor Duncan was going to fare with the lovely Lady Newberry. Without a doubt, she would be a handful.
It was a wonder she didn’t already have her own silly American reality television show. She looked the part, with her bleached blonde hair and tall super-model figure. The sight of her appalled him, only because it made him realize how much he despised Americans in general—their incessant need for coffee, fame, and fortune. Did any of them sleep? Ever?
He doubted it. Of course, it had been ages since he had slept a full four hours, so he probably shouldn’t be passing judgment.
Tomorrow was going to be his monthly meeting with store managers. He liked to hold the meetings at the actual stores, so he could keep an eye on their marketing strategies and help them implement higher sales volumes.
His morning was to be spent at one of his favorite stores in the heart of London; if he was lucky, he would get to serve tea and coffee to guests. He did love customer service. As well he should; he would have a lifetime of interacting with people once he was officially the Duke of Albany.
He quietly let himself into the house and tumbled onto his bed. He had exactly five hours before he needed to be up and ready.
****
Kessen woke up to a flight attendant hovering over her with a bottle of water and two aspirin. Thank God for small favors, she thought, greedily grabbing both from her hands.
Vaguely she remembered telling the flight attendant to have those waiting for her when she woke up. A migraine was starting just as the flight took off. Kessen knew she needed medicine before and after the flight to make sure she didn’t throw up from the pain.
She buckled her seatbelt and waited for landing. By her calculations she should be in London in about twenty minutes. She took a few moments to fix her hair and went into the tiny bathroom to change into her jeans and a Yankees t-shirt. Looking in the mirror, Kessen had to laugh. All she needed was an “I heart New York” hat and fanny pack, and she would be set. Fitting the part of the most annoying American tourist ever to set foot in London actually cheered her up quite a bit.
Before returning to her seat, she threw on her leather bomber jacket and put on some lip gloss. They landed soon after, and within minutes she had her carry-on luggage and was cursing herself for not packing lighter.
Someone called her name in what could only be described as an annoyingly thick British accent, causing Kessen to wince. This was her reality for the next few months. It was enough to send her straight back to the plane to demand a refund.
Amazingly, the massive throng parted just in time for her to see a nicely dressed man about her age, carrying a large sign which had her name spelled incorrectly. Rather than Kessen it said Kissin.
She groaned and rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses before coming to an abrupt stop right in front of him.
“Are you Kessen?” he asked, his accent still thick, but a little softer on the ears than it had previously been. Perhaps her sleepy ears had been playing tricks on her.
“That would be me.”
“Good—ness ,” he said out loud. “Sorry, I meant to say that in my head; it came out wrong.”
Kessen laughed groggily and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you—?”
“Duncan,” he said, shaking her hand. “Duncan Dickerson.”
“Aw, really?” she teased, squinting her nose.
“Unfortunately, yes.” He shook his head and led her out to the baggage claim. “How many bags do you have?”
“Do you want me to lie or tell the truth?”
“Lie,” he answered quickly.
“One.”
He laughed heartily, and then turned to look at her again, this time quizzically. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you are not at all what I expected.”
Kessen could only imagine what he expected; probably something akin to a Paris Hilton poster child primed for reality TV on HBO. Looking at Duncan, she realized it wasn’t just her who had misconceptions. Actually, he wasn’t what she expected either.
“Do you want to further explain, or should I go with the assumptions I already have?”
Duncan smiled again, and this time it lit up his whole face. He was quite attractive, a tad short and not as stocky as she liked her men, but attractive. In fact, he reminded her a little bit of Nick, which caused a tug on her heart. She missed him dreadfully.
“Let’s go with what’s in your head.”
“Crazy spoiled American who used Daddy’s connections to get into Harvard. Sound pretty close?”
“Deathly.”
“Perfect,” she said turning back towards the carousel. There was an uncomfortable pause before she turned to face him again. She thought he would be staring; instead—wonder of all wonders—he was texting.
“Updating your status online?” she asked knowingly.
“How did you guess?”
She smiled tightly, and then answered, “Technology and men—it’s like crack.”
He seemed to enjoy that answer and beamed even more. His smile could light up a black hole.
Chapter Four
By the time they reached the waiting car, she had successfully learned all of Duncan’s favorite places to go in London. Naturally, he had assumed she wanted to know all the shopping destinations, but she was actually more interested in the architecture. Go figure. Men usually took one look at her and deemed her stupid, cursed with a life fit for the runway and credit cards with no limit. This was obviously how Duncan had viewed her; except he now knew she had a personality, which she should be grateful for.
“Where are we going first?” she asked once she was seated comfortably beside him.
He seemed to be hiding something because his eyes were positively twinkling. “Um, I have a meeting with Newberry and Co. managers. Do you mind stopping by with me? We could get you some tea or something while you wait. It will only be a few minutes.”
She wasn’t given a choice in the matter, mainly because he was driving and didn’t look like a person who was easily bossed around. “Sure, that’s great,” she heard herself saying. “Stupid tea,” she muttered under her breath.