Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

It was a hilarious sight to see an elderly Englishwoman (who’d been knighted by The Queen) running down the driveway in pursuit of a retreating limo with her arms flailing. The look on her face was priceless. She slowed down when we were forced to stop, having been blocked by a catering truck.

“Sorry, Miss Bennet,” the driver apologized. “I tried.”

A tap sounded on the glass, and he rolled down his window to reveal a heated, out of breath Dame Stella.

“What on earth are you doing?” she huffed. “I’m old and wearing Dior. Not a good combination for calisthenics. Are you trying to kill me, Enrique?”

Enrique!

She poked her silver head all the way inside the driver’s window, causing Enrique to lean dramatically to his right.

“Beth,” she chirped with an enormous grin. “Don’t you look lovely.”

I’d lost my opportunity for escape. Enrique cut the engine and escorted me out of the limo as though I was decked out for the Oscars instead of a hoedown. I felt so underdressed. Fancy houses will do that to you. Stella was ravishing in a nautical navy and white pants set with gold buttons in the shape of anchors. It was casual in a way that made a statement that said I’m here amongst you peons, but I’d rather be on my yacht, dahhhling. Stella wouldn’t talk like that, but her outfit certainly did.

“I’m in a bit of a quandary,” she said, taking my arm. She swiftly whisked me towards the great house—I trotted along, glancing wistfully back at Enrique and my last hope of escape. He stood in front of the limo with his hands clasped in fig leaf position and shrugged as he watched me go to the gallows. The sun reflected with a sparkle off his aviator glasses, and he flashed me a toothy grin.

“Umm…” I said, trying to keep the pace, “what kind of quandary?”

She led me around the front drive and down a path to a great, open area which looked like the perfect place to play croquet or golf—or some other rich person sport—but was now transformed into colorful fairgrounds. I first noticed white tents with flags on the pointed tops and as we ventured further into the throng of families with children of all ages, the rides came into view. A giant Viking ship swing, spinning rides, a zipper—even a Ferris wheel. How did I not see the Ferris wheel before?

“We need to find my niece,” said Stella over the noise of the crowd. “She’s got to be here somewhere.”

By her niece, she could only mean one of the most famous actresses working in Hollywood—Emma Woods. I’d seen almost all her movies and unabashedly bought whatever line of cosmetics she endorsed in those chic commercials that went viral on the internet. For a commercial to go viral, it had to be something special.

“Why don’t you just call her?” I asked sheepishly. It seemed like an obvious solution to me, but you never know.

“I don’t remember where I set my mobile,” she said. “She’ll be easier to find if we follow the flashing camera bulbs.”

“Hang on.” I stopped in the shade of a game booth to navigate the search engine on my phone and typed in hashtag gardinerartscharity. I smiled at Stella and wiggled my phone in the air. “Good ‘ol internet,” I quipped.

She raised a silver brow. “Indeed.”

It didn’t take long. The number of reporters, entertainment bloggers, and YouTubers was at level ludicrous. You couldn’t take five steps in any direction without running into some kind of media dynamo, and every single one of them would want to be first to post candid celebrity shots.

“This one looks recent,” I said, showing the image to Stella.

She squinted at the screen, examining the photo of Emma Woods on the arm of an incredibly handsome man who had his head thrown back in a fit of laughter. If that was her date, they made an adorable couple.

“I know where that is,” remarked Stella. “Come along.”

She led me through the grounds with purpose and filled me in on the situation as I fell into step with her. Apparently, Bing was supposed to sing a couple of songs, and he bailed at the last minute.

“We’ll need to find a replacement,” explained Stella. “And then there’s the little matter of filling his dinner seat at the gala tonight. I put his place card next to yours.”

Place card? I had a place card?

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t follow.”

“Dinner, my dear,” she said with a heavy sigh, weary of my ignorance. “Didn’t I mention you and Bing would be sitting at my table?”

No. No, she did not. I shook my head.

“Well, no matter,” she went on, still walking briskly. “Bing’s not coming and now, we have to find someone to replace him.”

She leaned into me with a conspiratorial tone. “We planned to sing O False One and the Pair of Ducks number. Neither one of those songs will work without him.”

I was flummoxed. “Oh.”

Yep. That’s all I could say. Just oh. Like Oh, there’s lipstick on my teeth, or Oh, it’s shamrock shake season. Not hold the phone, what is this gala you speak of? Or even hang on now, is this dinner a casual thing, like maybe a barbecue?

She was so flippant about it, I was fairly certain dinner was barbecue. Or giant turkey legs like at Ren Faire. Or maybe a six-foot sub. I had my heart set on raiding the corn on the cob booth.

We reached an open-air tent with auction items on display. My inner bad girl took a leap at the sight of a sweet Harley Davidson with a sidecar. How much would that go for? I fell a little behind as the items on display caught my attention, and I slowed my pace. Stella stayed her course and made a beeline to two people bent over an auction table. When they turned to greet her, I recognized Emma