Greg promised himself not to be astonished and behave as a serious person. Not a village block.
When the gate opened to let the car into the oasis of elms and lordship, with Wilkins ready at the porch, he began giggling.
"Let me guess, this is you humble city house you spent winter in, right?"
"Actually, I spent most of the year here during past decade. It might be changed soon, dear Gregory, at least, there is where my hopes belong."
" Got it. I'm sorry, er, Roberts..."
"Sir?"The driver caught his gaze in the front mirror.
"Could we possible go very, very slowly from here, please?"
"Certainly, sir. How slow?"
"A meter per hour would do. James, do you mind?"
"Not at all. Wilkins mentioned he wished to spend more time outdoors when his grandchildren were born."
The driver's face was unreadable. But readable.
"Of course, sir."
"Thank you, I appreciate."
"You are welcome, sir."
At the porch, the butler frowned watching the car slowed down to barely crawling.
Greg was laughing hysterically, hiding his face in his palms, and it seemed to be contagious, because James smiled as well.
Wilkins seemed rather gloomy when he finally got to open the door. His nose was red. James hid his laugh in the cough into the hand.
"Welcome to Chelsie Eastside, Mr. Bay. Sir."
James nodded to Wilkins.
It seemed ages till he was home last time, and t turned out he quite missed it. Together with the old lion door handle and a cracked Chinese vase he use to hate in the hall. Wilkins put some fresh flowers into it and made it feel almost lively.
"Should I ask to serve the dinner, sir?"
"If only for Mr. Bay. Ask him if he dines out when you are at tailors, or home. I need to be at the audience soon."
"Audience?" Greg froze and stopped looking at the wooden ceiling.
"With Charles, yes. I think I shall be home by evening."
"Why do you... sorry."
"No secret at all, my dear. I need to organise the marriage agreement for our long-time-ago friends we are trying to help here."
Greg opened his mouth. Then closed. James hugged him lightly on the waist, smiled and headed back to the car. He could feel Greg watching him.
Wilkins coughed behind the young man's back. "What time would you like to have dinner, sir?"
"Did he...Lord Blacke meant the Charles?" Greg was still watching the main door.
"Indeed, sir."
"Ah. Sure, why not. Mister Wilkins, may I ask you a favour?"
"Of course, sir."
"Do you know the movie Pretty Woman?"
"Certainly so, sir."
Greg finally turned out displaying the most charming smiling smile possible. "May we do some acting and reproduce the scene with Julia Robert and the hotel manager? You know. And have sandwiches after."
Wilkins coughed and held a nice Stanislavsky style pause. "Certainly so, sir."
"Thank you, you are awesome! One more question. Where can I rent a tuxedo...if I name it right?"
This part made Wilkins to frown again. "That is inappropriate, I am afraid, sir."
"Sorry! Of course. I was wrong. Must be painful for you to hear this assumption."
"Indeed it was, sir. The cab has just arrived. Shall we?"
Greg tensed up. "Shall we...where, exactly?"
"To Savile Row*, of course. Sir."
***
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* Savile Row - the street with the oldest and most fashionable tailor shops.