"I did?" 
"Mhm."
I groan, pressing my hand against my forehead while I cover my eyes in shame.
"So," he smiles wickedly - enjoying every second of my embarrassment. "I want to come with you to see one this time. And if we're trying to be discreet, we can't go to the public galleries. But, I think I've got something that's better."
"Better?"
"Yea, I've pulled some strings. Got us into a place that's technically closed. No one there will care that we're around." 
"How did you do that?" I pause to consider. "Wait, did you think of this before you placed the bet?"
"Maybe," he shrugs his shoulders. "But planning for you is much easier when I know you have to follow it."
I roll my eyes, gently picking a blueberry off my plate and catapulting it in his direction from across the room. He laughs heartily, effortlessly dodging my sad projectile.
✤ ✤ ✤
Harry gives me no clues on the destination during our travel. We drive for a while to get to the mysterious place, but the time passes quickly.
The scenery changes from the crowded city to rolling green hills. The rural areas of England hold up a beauty of their own, and I feel grateful Harry was willing to take the time to show me around the country.
The sound of the tires running over gravel signals to me that we're nearing our stop. I straighten up my body, leaning against the center console to get a better view of the beckoning landscape. As we drive over a small sloping hill, the tips of jagged spires and a large white dome begin to appear over the horizon.
I wait anxiously, watching as the full picture of Harry's plan unfurls into view.
My jaw drops.
I look back at him with wide eyes. He turns his attention to me briefly, letting out a quiet laugh that highlights his perfectly placed dimple.
"Oh my god." The words come out like a sigh from my lips.
A grand Georgian style mansion sits pristine upon the landscaped acres of grass - its pale white stones a stark contrast against the cold blue sky. 
It's like nothing I've ever seen. Almost like we stumbled into an old period piece or the surroundings of a Jane Austen novel. Elaborately designed columns line the exterior from the ground to the crest of the roof. The building is crowned by carved vines and swirling structures. Ornate stone steeples shoot out from the flat top. A large spherical dome sits above the second story, its top covered in a sheen of gold. 
"It's a family-owned house. Built in the 18th century I think. Usually open for tours, but their season ended yesterday and they're letting us slip in." He explains, watching my reaction from his seat. "They have one of the largest privately owned galleries in the world."
A blush starts to crawl up my cheeks. I'm so stunned I can't even think of what to say.
He smirks, pleased by my stupor. He quickly parks the car in the back of the mansion before grabbing my hand over the gear shift and giving it a small pressured squeeze. "Let's go." He nods his head toward the massive stone building. 
I follow his lead and step out of the car. We walk toward a less regal entrance in the back. A middle-aged woman stands beneath the door frame, waiting to welcome us into the home. She reaches out her hand, shaking our own while she introduces herself.