We arrive at my family home in the early hours of the morning. It’s pitch black outside, but that doesn’t detract from the magnitude of the estate.

The grounds are lit with evenly-spaced ornate lamps leading up to the house. Spotlights illuminate the house itself from below. It casts long shadows on the stone walls, making it look like some evil castle in the night.

It’s a huge building with three stories and two wings stretching out either side of the main entry hall. The garages are behind the house, another half mile up from the circular driveway that loops around a fountain in front of the mansion.

The driver pulls up, and we step outside. As we do, I watch Melissa’s expression of awe. Her mouth hangs open slightly as she looks up at the tall, imposing edifice, and then side to side at its impressive wings.

“This is all your family’s?” she asks.

I wrap my arm around her waist, following her gaze. I guess the place is quite something when seeing it for the first time, or after some time away. It looks more like one of the grand halls at Harvard than a domestic residence for a family of four.

“The Southby Estate,” I announce. “Nine bedrooms, six bathrooms, two double garages, three reception rooms, a ballroom, stables, and a guest house.” I laugh at the absurdity of it all even as I say it out loud. “My only complaint is it’s a bit cramped.”

Melissa shakes her head slowly. I feel her pressing her body closer against mine as she gets closer to the house. She goes to take her suitcase, but I tell her she doesn’t need to. “Simon will get that.”

“Simon?”

“The butler.”

“He’s here twenty-four-seven?”

“My father is often away on business, and my mother can’t stand to be in the house alone. She says it’s far too big for just one person to rattle around in.”

“I’d say she’s right. I’d be terrified alone in there. It looks like something straight out of a gothic horror movie. Is your father Dracula?”

I laugh. “It looks less scary in the light.”

“I knew you were rich, but this—”

“We’d be nothing if we hadn’t found a way of mixing new money with old. My father doesn’t simply lounge around, living off an ancient family fortune. He’s a property tycoon. Alexander owns a marketing company that makes millions. This place costs a small fortune to maintain.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“It’s a building,” I tell her. “That’s all.”

I take her hand and lead her toward the door. She lowers her voice to a whisper as we walk, aware that it’s only five a.m. “You grew up here?”

I point toward an upstairs window in the west wing. “That was my room.”

“I can’t imagine living a life like this. Even when Mom was around, we lived in dives.” She pulls out her phone and checks for messages. She looks disappointed when she has none. “Connor would lose his mind if he could be here now. He wouldn’t believe it.”

“Maybe one day he can come, too.”

“I wonder what he’s doing now. I really hope he’s okay. The whole flight here, I’ve been wondering whether I did the right thing.”

I know. You tore the pages of that in-flight magazine to shreds. By the time we had to put our tables up, it looked like a little pile of confetti. “But you’re here now. You might as well try and enjoy it.”

“You’re right. I’ll try.” She smooths down her jeans self-consciously. “I wish I’d thought more about the fact I’d be meeting your family. I’m not dressed to meet nobles.”

I laugh. “The titles are only for keeping appearances, but they lost their meaning a long time ago. Calling yourself a duke just gets you a better seat at the theatre and the odd ribbon-cutting ceremony when they can’t get a real celebrity to come down. We keep up appearances better than most because we still have the house. Most of the British nobility have taken to doing tours through their estates and auctioning off antique furniture to keep their roofs over their heads. Many give up. It looks like a lot, but it’s all smoke and mirrors.”

“Smoke and mirrors,” Melissa repeats quietly. “Are you sure? Because that fountain looks like more than an illusion. So do the butler and chauffeur. It looks very much like the aristocracy is alive and kicking.”

“Trust me, there is nothing lively about British aristocracy. Wait until you meet my father.”

We reach the top of the flight of stairs leading to the grand entrance of the estate. I knock at the huge, oak door with the heavy cast iron lion head knocker. Our housekeeper, Irene, opens the door. In her mid-fifties, she’s a woman with dark hair pulled back into a tight, low ponytail. She’s wearing a dark blue tunic dress with a white pinny.

She smiles when she sees me and steps forward to kiss me on the cheek. “Henry! It’s good to see you.”

“Irene. You didn’t have to stay up to see us in.”

“I didn’t want to miss you. It’s been quiet around here without you causing trouble.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Irene looks over my shoulder and catches sight of Melissa. Her face breaks into a welcoming grin, and she steps back to usher us both inside. “Who is your friend, Henry?”

“This is Melissa.”

Irene nods her head in Melissa’s direction, offering a little dip at the knee. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hadn’t prepared another bedroom.”

“That’s no problem,” I say. “We’ll be sharing a room.”

Irene grins wickedly. “I won’t tell your father if you don’t. He hasn’t gone upstairs in the better part of a decade. I doubt he’ll ever know.”

Melissa clings nervously to my hand. When I told Irene we’d be sharing a room, I thought she’d boil over, she turned so red from embarrassment. I pull Melissa closer and kiss her forehead.

She looks around the grand foyer with undisguised discomfort. She bites down on her lip with nerves and clings onto my hand like it’s a lifeline. All the while, she cranes her head this way and that, drinking in the sight of the original marble tiles on the floor, the sweeping staircase that splits at the top toward each wing, and the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling.

The floors smell like fresh polish and of the flowers that rest in heavy bouquets in tall standing vases around the edges of the foyer.

“You two must be starving,” Irene guesses. “How about a cup of tea and a biscuit? I made sure there were plenty of hobnobs just for you.” She winks. “I know they’re your favorite.”

“Thanks, Irene.”

We’re following Irene into the kitchen when I hear my name being called. I turn around to see my mother on the last step of the staircase. She’s tightening the belt of her fur-lined dressing gown around her as she descends. She looks like she’s just woken from a deep sleep; her eyes are still bleary. “Henry? Is that you?”

“Hi, Mum.”

She stands in front of me with her arms folded over her chest. After a long time examining me and staring daggers at Melissa, she coldly rises to her tiptoes to plant a formal kiss on my cheek. “I’m glad you had a safe flight. Was the chauffeur there on time?”

“As always.”

“Good, good.” She turns her attention to Melissa. Her voice rises a pitch in disapproval and suspicion. “You’ve brought a friend, I see.”

I thread my arm around Melissa’s shoulders to encourage her to step forward from where she’s hiding shyly behind me. “This is Melissa. We’re dating.”

My mother purses her lips. “Your father won’t be pleased.”

I glance at Melissa, who looks mortified, then back to my mother. “Can I speak to you for a moment in private?”

“I think that would be wise.”

“I’ll take Melissa through to the kitchen,” Irene offers kindly. She puts her arm around Melissa’s shoulder and ushers her down the hall.

I turn back to my mother. “There’s no need to be rude.”

“You brought back a girl with no warning. Can you not get through a single holiday without another notch in your bedpost? This is disrespectful.”

“I didn’t ask because I knew she’d not be welcome, but I’ve invited her as my guest, and I want you to treat her with the same respect and courtesy as you did Olivia when Alexander first brought her home.”

“The difference is, Henry, Alexander doesn’t bring home a different woman every week. When Alexander brings home a girl, your father and I know she’s someone special.”

“Melissa is special,” I retort quickly. My temper flares and I can hear it in my voice. I try to bring the tone down again, lowering my voice to a careful, sincere whisper. “She’s ambitious, kind-hearted, and loyal. She’s extremely intelligent and driven. If you give her a chance, you’ll like her very much. She’s a good influence on me. She’s a good person, full stop.”

My mother ignores my speech and waves her hand dismissively in the air. “We’ll deal with it in the morning. Irene will show you to the room. You’ll be staying in the east wing. It’s been renovated.”

“I’d rather stay in my own room.”

“The east room has been renovated.”

It’s no use arguing with my mother when her mind is set. She and my father are like a pair of broken records when it comes to following the rules they’ve set.

“Very well.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, my mother returns upstairs, slowly stepping up the staircase like a true duchess in careful, measured steps, her back straight as a poker.

I breathe a sigh of relief when she’s gone, then rush into the kitchen to find Melissa. She’s sitting with a cup of tea clutched in her hand, a plate of chocolate-covered hobnobs on a little plate in front of her. She looks like a frightened deer caught in headlights, and her eyes are pink, as though she’s just wiped away tears.

Irene watches me enter and offers a sympathetic smile as she busies herself with tidying the remaining biscuits.

“Sorry about that,” I say softly to Melissa. “My mother can be very cold.”

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t know you.”

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. My parents are never glad to see me; it has nothing to do with you.”

“Of course, it does,” Melissa says tearfully. She gestures at her outfit. “Look at me.”

I lift her face so her gaze meets mine, and I hold it earnestly. “You’re perfect.”

Irene looks over her shoulder and smiles at us. “Henry’s right, my dear. Diane is not the easiest woman to impress. Even with her nearest and dearest, she’s a very formal person. Don’t you worry about it. Don’t you cry, my pet.”

She turns to me. “I’m going to go make sure your bags go to the right room. I’ll be right back. Have a nice cuppa, and you’ll feel better.”

Once Irene has left, I put my arm comfortingly around Melissa’s shoulders. “I know you’re nervous and feel out of place, but I’m glad you’re here. Usually, I feel nervous and out of place on my own.”

Melissa offers an empathetic smile. “Is your mom always that formal toward you?”

“God, she’s awful.” I chuckle. “It’s only recently she’s started calling me ‘Henry’ instead of ‘Son.’ She learned how to raise her children from the Victorian Book of Etiquette and Stand-Offery.”

She giggles and a little sparkle returns to her eyes. She rests her head on my shoulder. “This cup of tea is lovely. Irene is nice, isn’t she?”

“The only shred of warmth in this house, sometimes. When I was home from Eton on the school holidays, it was Irene who looked after me, from cooking my dinners to playing ‘tag’ in the gardens. I used to imagine what it was like at her house—I’d have given all this up to have a mum like Irene.

“Not that I don’t like my own mother,” I add quickly. “It’s that she’s almost a stranger. Sometimes I feel like this whole family is a set of figurines in a music box, just waiting for our turn to spin to the tune.”

“What about your brother?”

I shrug. “We get on. I don’t feel like Alexander’s against me, but he doesn’t truly understand me, either. He always liked to spin to that tune.” I drink down the last of my warm, milky tea with a smile. “I’ve missed Yorkshire Gold.” I pick up a biscuit. “And hobnobs.”

Melissa grins and takes a bite of a biscuit herself. “They’re pretty good.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll take you on a positive rollercoaster of British taste sensations. We’ll track down Scottish shortbread, tea cakes, scones. I’ll even make you have Bovril on toast for breakfast.”

She smiles. Her eyes are growing heavy from exhaustion. We traveled almost twelve hours today.

“Let’s go to bed,” I say.

Melissa has enough energy left to grin wickedly. “Your father won’t be pleased.”

Standing now, I pull Melissa into my arms. “My father wouldn’t know what passion was if it grabbed him by the balls and stuck its tongue down his throat.”

“Hmm, is that how it’s done?”

I smile, pulling her closer and wrapping my arms around her tightly. “He also wouldn’t know what it feels like to hold someone like this and feel completely content. Thank you for coming, Lissy. You don’t know how much it means to me that you’re here.”