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“Sorry, son. I’m still just seeing my way through it.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

The Earl cleared his throat. “It’s tricky,” he said, finally. “Not necessarily as bad as they’re saying. They won’t know until she starts treatment and they see how it responds. But they’ve stressed that it’s not looking great.” Another clearing of his throat. “I know why you’ve stayed away, but Haim, if you could think about coming home, just for a visit, I know what it would mean to her.”

He closed his eyes as his gut rolled, the perfect storm of his life crashing around him on all sides. There was, of course, no way he could refuse. The return of his mother’s cancer was why he’d instituted this relationship with Tia, why he’d gone from a celibate man with little intention of marrying and having children until he absolutely needed to, to actively attempting to beget an heir. To give his mother the peace she needed. Even when there were so many things she’d done in the past that he found difficult to forgive, she was still his mother, and he loved her. Perhaps more than she was capable of truly loving him.

“On one condition,” he said, frowning deeply.

“A condition?”

“I’ll come home.” He continued as though his father hadn’t spoken. “But I have no interest in seeing Cressida and Ewan. Don’t tell them, or mum, when I’m planning to fly in.” He hesitated a beat longer. “And Dad, I won’t be alone.”

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Tia said, flicking open her calendar and studying the appointments she had scheduled. “I can get one of my staff to do my inspections for the week. My assistant will reschedule as much as possible.” She sipped her latte. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”

Through the phone line she could practically hear his teeth grind.

“My brother won’t be there; I’ve made sure of it. We can just go for a weekend. I figure, if it goes badly for her, at least she’ll know I’m married. It will give her some hope, you know. We don’t have to say anything about our pregnancy plans.”

“Hey, it’s your family. Say whatever you need to help your mom. Just…try to keep it off the front page.”

His laugh was deep and throaty. “Deal.”

Four days later, Tia’s private jet was touching down outside Oxford. She’d insisted on using her company’s plane. It’s a tax write-off. I’ll go touch base with my London office, give you some alone time with your family.

She knew the truth, though. Having her jet on hand was an escape route. A way of knowing that she wasn’t stuck, if things went wrong. It seemed silly to anticipate the worst, when her pragmatic, steady relationship with Hamish had been one of such smooth sailing, but they were entering uncharted territory now, and if Tia’s upbringing had taught her anything, it was that unpredictability and families went hand in hand.

The flight over had been relatively smooth, and they’d both worked. Tia, because she’d had a lot to cover, and Hamish, she suspected, as a form of distraction.

Which was ironic, because the sight of him flicking through pages on his laptop, his face cast in a shimmering glow from the backlit screen, had made something unusual catch inside of her. An awareness she’d felt when they’d sat alone in the restaurant after their wedding, confessing the sorts of secrets to one another usually reserved for lovers in the first flush of dating. It had started as a hum in her veins, then a buzzing in her ears, and stars in her eyes, and finally a heat that seemed to burst like radiant light through her whole body, leaving her weirdly breathless. By the time they’d left the restaurant, and Hamish had waved his driver away so he, Hamish, could be the one to hold the door for her, and she’d stepped so close to him she’d felt his warmth, it had made her whole body feel as though she were stretched on tenterhooks.

When they’d pulled up at her brownstone, they’d both exited the vehicle, and beneath the full Manhattan moon, he’d bent down and pressed another kiss to her cheek, but this one left her breathless.

She’d convinced herself it was just the magnitude of the day, and the conversations they’d had that night. Theirs was not a normal marriage, nor relationship, and she had no business lusting after her convenient husband slash potential baby daddy. They hadn’t seen each other for almost a week, since their wedding, and it had been easy to convince herself that the butterflies in her stomach were just a hangover from the enormity of their agreement. But this was different.

Nerves, perhaps?

Once on the tarmac, with the door open and stairs in position, they disembarked the plane, Hamish with a politely guiding hand in the small of her back that didn’t feel even remotely polite, even through the starchy fabric of her structured blazer.

A black Mercedes SUV was waiting, the windows darkly tinted, and as they approached, the driver opened the rear door.

“That’s fine, Michael. I’ll drive.”

The driver nodded once and passed the keys to Hamish, who moved to the front passenger door and opened it for Tia. “Ready?” She stifled a yawn, the time difference already wreaking havoc. She should have slept more on the flight, but her insides had been twisting, her nerves fluttering, and every time she’d drifted off, she’d bolted awake again, as though she’d forgotten something important.

“It’s about an hour’s drive,” he said, once they were both in the car. “You should catch up on sleep.”

“I’m okay,” she said, offering a tight smile. It was hard to believe, but Tia was actually nervous. Tia, who met with kings and queens and foreign princes all day every day, who wined and dined the world’s elite, was nervous about meeting Hamish’s family. Sure, they were aristocracy, but so what? That wasn’t new for her, and yet it was. She’d never come to anyone’s home to ‘meet the parents’. She’d never been in a relationship long enough. Or a relationship at all, really. Just casual flings, easy, breezy, no big deal. And no matter how many rules they’d put in place to keep this businesslike, meeting one’s husband’s family still felt important. Even when the relationship was utterly fake.

But after what he’d told her on their wedding night, about his brother and Cressida, she felt it was even more vital that she make a good impression. She’d googled the other woman, and it had taken her down a deep rabbit hole, showing her all the things Hamish had confessed. There were pictures of him at various stages in his life, and yes, in the younger photos that included suits and top hats. There was a staged family portrait for his sixteenth birthday, paparazzi photos of his ‘first love’, pictures of him and Ewan playing polo with the Princes, and then, of him and Cressida. Lots of photos of a beautiful, slim woman with honey-gold skin and long wavy blonde hair that somehow looked to belong in a painting of a wood nymph. She wore denim shorts and floaty tops, and knee-high boots, looking chic and bohemian all at once, with dozens of bracelets up both arms. And then, to Tia’s ultimate shame, she’d stalked the woman on Instagram, where she described herself as an ‘influencer slash philanthropist’. Tia had laughed out loud at that. Tell me you were born rich without telling me… she’d thought to herself, putting her phone down with disgust.

“Why don’t you give me some more info about your parents?” she suggested.

“Haven’t I already told you enough?”

“Tell me the sorts of things I should know, as your wife. If this were a real marriage, I’d know a lot more than that.”

He made a thoughtful noise as he pulled the car away from the tarmac and towards the security gates. Having already done customs on the flight, the departure was efficient and swift—just what they needed after crossing the Atlantic. She knew from their discussion vis-à-vis travel arrangements that Hamish had his own private jet, and she suspected it was bigger than hers. Having grown up with nothing, Tia could never bring herself to pay more than something was worth, so she’d tasked her agent with acquiring a jet sufficient for international travel, and for impressing the clients she travelled with, but nothing too extreme. Then again, despite her success, Hamish’s wealth was a whole different ballgame. She knew (thank you again, Google) that his family held assets all over the world, including massive portions of Singapore’s commercial district, Sydney’s harbourfront, and various European capital cities—not to mention several vineyards in France. Nice for some.