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“Hardly,” he drawled. “Lancaster International owns homes all over the world.”
“I’m sure. But no personal home?”
He shot me a sexy grin. “I had a new one built. I just haven’t been there yet. It was just completed two weeks ago. It was planned, engineered, and built by the same dream team that constructed Damian’s home.”
“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Not another home that’s a technical and architectural marvel.”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid so. It’s not a carbon copy, but the same premise. It was genius. Damian and I actually planned those homes out right before Charlotte was killed. He’s the one who made sure mine was built, too.”
“So you’ll be seeing it for the first time when you go home for the wedding?” I asked excitedly.
“If I go,” he corrected.
“Dylan, you have to be there,” I coaxed.
“Are you inferring that you’ll miss me if I’m not?” he asked in that sexy, fuck-me-baritone-with-a-British-accent that made me crazy.
“I will,” I said honestly. “Who will be there to tell me how I should act and what I should say to all of those high society guests? It’s going to be rather intimidating, even for a woman who does PR for a living. God, will I have to call you Lord Dylan in public? I don’t want to say or do anything that might embarrass Nic or Damian.”
He held up a hand to stop me. “First of all, it’s a wedding, not a royal coronation. Is it taking place at Hollingsworth House?”
“Yes. Your mom’s estate in Surrey. Nic has sent me pictures. It looks like a castle.”
“It’s actually our childhood home, too,” Dylan informed me. “I’m sure the wedding will be very elegant because Nicole and my mother probably planned it together, and Mum is an expert at arranging formal affairs. But there’s no snobbery in our family, Kylie, and Damian would never expect you to act like one. We grew up in a mixed culture environment. Our mother is Spanish, and she didn’t grow up wealthy. Even though she tried to mold herself into the perfect duchess in public, my father refused to let her lose her entire culture just because she married a Brit. I’m sure there will be family there from our maternal side, and Damian will get his thirteen gold coins to present to his bride, which is a Spanish tradition. Damian isn’t going to invite anyone he doesn’t like to something this important to him. All the British women will put on their best fascinators, and everyone will have a great time.”
“Fascinators?” I asked. “Translation, please.”
It was a term I hadn’t heard before.
“Simply put, they’re hats in all colors and shapes. And you do realize we speak the same language, right?” he asked with a smirk.
I ignored his smart-ass comment. “So are your weddings the same as ours here?”
“For the most part,” he said, looking like he was thinking. “I’m sure Nicole and Damian will have a mix of traditions. Thank God Damian hates fruitcake with a passion, so he’ll be ecstatic if Nicole suggests something different from the traditional wedding cake.”
“Actually, they are having a fruitcake because Nicole likes it, and she wanted to incorporate some English traditions, but the main cake is coming from a London bakery. I think they decided on chocolate,” I told Dylan with a smile. “I take it you don’t care for fruitcake, either?”
He shook his head. “No. Nasty stuff.”
I laughed at his exaggerated expression. “Okay, so I won’t have to worry about royalty at this wedding.”
“I won’t guarantee that,” Dylan answered carefully. “I’m not sure how far out Damian is extending the guest list. It’s even possible that the owner of this beach house, Crown Prince Niklaos of Lania, will be there if he’s able. He was raised in England, and Damian and I went to school with him. He’s been a mate of mine and Damian’s for a long time. But he’s far from being a snob, and please don’t tell me you’re intimidated by titles or wealth. You’re American.”
I let out an audible breath. “It’s not so much the money or the titles. I guess I just don’t want to feel out of place at my best friend’s wedding, and I don’t want to say or do anything that isn’t appropriate. I am her maid of honor.”
Maybe I didn’t want to admit it, but the guest list was bound to be daunting for me, even if I was American.
“You’ve certainly never been worried about speaking your mind with me,” he grumbled.
I thought about that before I answered, “If we hadn’t met the way we did, or if the circumstances were different, I doubt I would have been this comfortable around you. I don’t know if we would have had much in common. Maybe I forget who you are sometimes, but you are the son of a duke and one of the wealthiest men on the planet. We’ve lived very different lives.”
“Take my word on it, gorgeous; I would have talked to you, no matter what the circumstances. If you don’t know what to say to a Brit at the wedding, just talk about the weather. We’re obsessed with the topic. You can either grumble about it or speculate about it. Either one of those is perfectly normal since our climate is so unpredictable. It’s a favorite topic of conversation for two people who don’t know what else to say. You’ll endear yourself to any true Brit if you just discuss a possible incoming storm,” he finished with amusement in his tone.
I tried to read his face. “You’re joking, right?”
He shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not. Just wait and see. I still feel the compulsive instinct to check the weather first thing every morning, even though it’s much the same here every day in the summer.”
I snorted. “Hot and dry, really hot and dry, or unbearably hot and dry.”
