Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
The fact that he even knew what a reality show stumped her. The one time she had mentioned the Kardashians to her, he had genuinely assumed she was talking about a type of jacket.
And now he was starring in one?
What did he plan to do, stare stoically at the screen for thirty minutes every week? She couldn’t picture himself doing anything similar to what most reality TV stars did.
The first episode started to play, and Mary was still torn between watching and shutting the TV closed and forgetting she even knew such a show existed.
Her breath caught as the entire fifty-five-inch screen was filled with a close-up shot of the duke’s face.
She hit Pause.
She couldn’t help it.
Rathe.
It was the first time she had allowed herself to even think of his name.
Oh God, no—-
Mary quickly looked up. Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
But still, the tears threatened.
She shook her head wildly, hoping she could create a tiny gust of air to blow her tears dry.
But still, she felt them clinging to her eyes, wanting to spill down the way they were meant to.
Her desperate gaze moved to where her piranha swam lazily in its tank. “Do you think if I let you lick my tears away, you won’t end up gouging them out?”
The piranha chomped its jaws at her.
“Riiight.”
Slowly, she glanced back at Rathe.
Was it her imagination or did he seem so much thinner? Paler, too. He had always been fair, but now he could easily pass as a vampire, just without the sparkles. And those shadows under his eyes – had they always been there? And his lips – had they been that thin, too?
But even noticing all that, she also couldn’t help think that the Duke of Flanders remained the most beautiful man she had ever seen in his life, the one man who deserved to be England’s #1 Heartthrob.
Rathe.
And just like that, the tears finally fell.
Mary pressed one shaky finger on the remote button, and the file resumed playing.
“Hi.”
She cried a little harder.
It was her first time to hear that voice in a year, and just the sound of it made the past come to life, every beautiful and painful part of it.
“My name is Rathe Wellesley. I’m thirty-seven years old. I’m also the fifth Duke of Flanders.”
It was the same British accent that she loved, something she liked to imagine was just a little crisper, cooler, and sexier than everyone else’s English accent.
“This is my first reality show – the first for my entire family, actually...”
The camera zoomed out, revealing the rest of the scene. She recognized the living room in the country manor they once shared. A smile wobbled on her lips when she saw Warren and Alyssa in the background as well, the two of them on the sofa, enjoying a cup of tea.
Seeing that the entire family was dressed lightly, Mary guessed the scene was shot in spring, probably right after she had left.
On the screen, Rathe was talking a little about his home. “It’s been with us for generations, and this was where I had the most amazing time of my life, living with Mary.”
The mention of her name made Mary gasp, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. Why was he talking about her, for God’s sake? Wasn’t he already engaged—-
Her gaze strayed to his finger, just before Rathe raised his hand himself. His eyes focused on the camera.
“And little pearl, if you’re watching this, you see my hand?”
She pressed her hands closer to her mouth, unable to shake off the feeling that Rathe was really speaking directly at her from the TV.
“I’m not engaged. I’m single, but I’m waiting for you to claim me.” There was not an ounce of shame or discomfort as he said the words, nothing to remind the public that this gorgeous man was once notorious for being cold and aloof.
Behind him, Warren groaned. Did that really come from you, son?”
The scene changed, and Mary guessed the cut was for commercial breaks. This time, the focus was on Alyssa, who was in her bedroom. Dressed in another one of her patterned wrap dresses and kitten heels, she was as beautiful as always. Looking at her, it was hard even for Mary to remember that Alyssa had been married for almost four decades.
“Hello. I’m Alyssa Wellesley, the Dowager Duchess of Flanders.” She threw a candid look at the camera. “Formerly, I was just Alyssa, a Greek girl who once married for money.”
Mary gasped, unable to believe what the older woman had just said.
Alyssa nodded gamely. “You heard me right. I took one look at Warren and thought, hey, this guy’s good-looking, sexy, loaded, and he likes me. So why don’t I marry him?” Moving into her walk-in closet, she said over her shoulder, “So I did. But then I ended up falling for him anyway, which was why I signed...”