“Oh, Mother, do give it a rest.”
I quietly closed the door behind me and paused in the hallway.
“Alexander, I just think—”
“I know what you think. You’ve been quite forward in telling me exactly what you think about everything for the few several days, whether I have asked for your opinion or not. I’m trying desperately hard not to be rude to you, but I’m only going to ask you one more time to please give me a break.”
“This village is a part of you and your legacy. You simply cannot allow them to put a café in the old park!”
“I cannot waltz into the council building and demand they do as I wish. I’m a duke—not a fifteenth century king. I have absolutely no power over what the council do, and nor do I wish to have it. My voice is not worth more than anyone else’s in Whitborough or the surrounding areas.”
“But it can help us, Alexander. They aren’t listening to it—you said you’d write a letter, and we haven’t seen it yet.”
“I do not show you everything I do, Mother.”
“You’ve done it?”
“Yes. I wrote to them after we discussed it and requested that they give it a serious thought before they greenlight any sales. Councillor Basil Doherty called me after and thanked me for my letter, assured me they’d take my thoughts into consideration, and wished me well.”
“That’s all? And you allowed him to get away with that?”
Uh-oh. This was getting heated.
Was there any possible way I could sneak up to my room and pretend like I was never here?
Or would I have to come up with something else?
“There was nothing to get away with. He was perfectly polite and respectful, and it was the answer I was expecting.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake! It was what you were expecting, so you just accepted it?”
Yep. I was never getting away with this, so I took a step back and quietly opened the door just enough that I could shut it loudly behind me. They weren’t terribly far away—the living room, perhaps, or the kitchen at a push.
“Mother, I—”
“What do you think your father would have done? Would he have accepted it? Would he have rolled over as you are or would he have done anything?”
Silence.
“Your father would—”
“I am not Dad!”
I froze. I’d never heard such a harshness in Alex’s voice before, and there was a deep bitterness that echoed through the doorways and hit me hard.
I clutched tightly to the paper bag from the café.
“I love Dad. Everything he did was incredible. He was a great duke and respected by everyone, but I am not him. I’m not going to do it his way. I’m going to do it my way.” The hardness never left his tone, and when there was a moment of silence that lasted longer than the previous one, I took my moment.
I shoved the door shut behind me.
“Hello? Anyone here?” I called brightly, walking through the vast hallway as though I’d only just stepped inside. I really did feel a little dirty for listening, but it was one of those situations that was a bit like a train wreck.
You knew shit was going to go down, but you couldn’t tear your eyes—or ears—away from it.
Alexander stalked out of the living room with Elizabeth hot on his heels. They were both flushed, and the tension between them was palpable.
It was extremely uncomfortable.
“Adelaide. You’ve been gone quite a while. I was going to send out a search party.” Alex forced a smile. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes. Sorry, the food was delicious, and Maggie has been coercing me into numerous things, like dessert and cross-stitching at the pub.”
Elizabeth huffed. “Her and that bloody cross-stitch club. It’s a front for drunks.”
Alex slid his eyes towards her. “Regardless of what you think of it, I think it’ll be wonderful for Addy to make friends here. Six weeks is a long time stuck in one place with little enjoyment.”
Wow.
That was a little too bitter, even for me.
She huffed again and stalked past him. “I’m going to collect Olympia from the farm and take her to dance class. Unless you’d prefer I kept my thoughts about that to myself, too.”
Oh.
I looked away.
“She does enjoy it when you take her,” Alexander replied graciously. “And I shall pretend not to notice that she’s not hungry and there’s McDonald’s in the rubbish bin when you come home.”
“Excellent. Finally, something we can agree on.” She looked to me. “I’m glad you’ve had a productive day, Adelaide.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth left with a regal sweep towards the back of the manor, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a teacher for those pretending to be nobility in movies.
We stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment until Alex said, “You heard every word of our argument, didn’t you?”
I shifted from one foot to the other. “I suppose that depends on when it started, doesn’t it?”
He met my gaze, his lips twitching upwards into a tiny smile. “Touché.”
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” I said quickly. “I came back, and I didn’t know what to do when I heard you fighting. I didn’t think I could escape upstairs without being noticed, so…”
“It’s fine.” Alex shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to overhear it. Would you like some tea?”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. It sounds like you’ve had quite the afternoon. Just let me see Olympia off to ballet, and I’ll come and make a pot.”
“I can do it.” I slipped past him and headed in the direction of the kitchen. “No Boris?”
“Yes, he’s in the library with Mrs. Anderson discussing a replacement housekeeper.” He smiled. “Two minutes.”
I nodded and walked down the hall to the kitchen. It was the most beautiful room—aside from the library—and the walk-in pantry that Olympia regularly made a huge mess of was the thing of dreams.
Sure, we had a large kitchen and pantry at the hotel, but that was just it.
It was a hotel.
It wasn’t my kitchen.
I set my things on the island and ran my fingers across the granite countertops with a sigh. I loved this kitchen, and I really missed cooking. We usually just ate at the hotel or Mum would cook something for us in our living quarters, but it wasn’t me.
Maybe I would have to see if Alex would let me loose in his kitchen one day soon.
I busied myself making the tea. I could just about hear Alex and Olympia saying goodbye to one another by the door, and by the time he joined me in the kitchen, the tea was steaming in the pot and ready.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, approaching the island as I set the pot down on a cast iron teapot stand.
“Oh, please. I don’t spend half as much time in the kitchen as I’d like to. A pot of tea is a small thing.” I opened the cupboard with the teacups in. “Are we teacup and saucering, or are we drinking tea like people do in the twenty-first century?”
“Hold on.” He retreated to the door and poked his head out of it. He tilted his head to the side and held that position for a moment before he came back to me and walked into the pantry.
What the devil was he doing?
He emerged seconds later with a large wooden breadbin in his hands.
“What the—”
“Wait for it.” He set it on the island and slid the door upwards, revealing eight mugs that were most definitely not the kind of things you’d find in a duke’s household.
“Oh, my gosh. What are these?” I pressed my hand to my mouth and peered in at them. One had “Best Dick Ever” written on the front, but ‘dick’ was crossed out and ‘duke’ was scribbled on top of it. “Let me guess; Gabriella?”
“I was going to give you three guesses, but you only needed one.” He smirked as he pulled it out and looked at it. “Secret Santa one year. We haven’t done it since. My mother believes I’ve thrown it out.”
“Never. That would be a travesty.” I picked up another adorned with three letters: UNT. “Unt? What’s that?”
“Put it down and look at the handle.”
I set it on the counter and bent down to look at it. The handle was black, like the letters, and I narrowed my—
Oh.
“Oh,” I squeaked. “That was not Gabi.”
He picked it up with a chuckle. “No, it was not. That was Fred’s idea of a joke on my twenty-first birthday.”
“And to think, I merely got a wine glass that said proclaimed me the best twenty-one-year-old ever.”
“But you’re a twin.”
“Exactly. It’d be far more flattering if Eva hadn’t also received one.” I shrugged and looked back into the breadbin. It was a terribly strange place to keep them all. “What if your mum looks in here and finds them?”
“Don’t be daft. She doesn’t go in the pantry. It’s too high up for Olympia, and Boris knows all about it.”
“Boris knows?”
“Boris knows everything.”
“Indeed he does,” Boris drawled from the doorway. “Are you corrupting the young lady, sir?”
Alex grinned at him. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her and find out for yourself. Would you like some tea?”
Boris’s gaze flickered to the mugs. “If you don’t mind. Except I think I shall stick with a more tasteful cup.” He opened a cupboard and pulled out a Chelsea football team mug.
“If anything is corrupting me, it might be your awful taste in football teams, Boris. Chelsea? Really?” I shook my head.
“We might have to rethink this one, sir. We can’t be having this kind of dissention in the household.”
Alex laughed. “We all have our faults. Hers happen to be that she hates Chelsea and is a Lancastrian.”
“I would prefer not to get into the discussion of Richard the third and Henry the seventh again, sir. I need to refresh my arguments if we’re to go down that route.” Boris poured three cups of tea, giving me a mug that was far tamer than the other two.
All right, so it said that I didn’t give a flock accompanied by a nice image of a cartoon flamingo, but still.
He gave Alex the UNT one.
“Why, Boris, are you on my side?” I asked, stirring milk into my tea.
“I am neither here nor there regarding the Plantagenets and the Tudors, Adelaide. I believe both dynasties have their faults and their bright points, but I have not had enough alcohol for His Grace to finagle me into the finer details on this fine afternoon.” Boris put three spoonfuls of sugar into his tea, added the milk, and collected his mug.
I fought a smile and looked down. “Duly noted. Another time, then.”
“Indeed. Now, if either of you need anything, I will be found outside in the sunken garden for fifteen minutes of peace. Mrs. Anderson will send me to an early grave if I don’t disappear.” He looked at us both and hovered on Alex. “Do put that back in the pantry before you mother sees them. Especially that one.” He looked pointedly at the one Alex was using, and I hid my smile behind my mug.
He left us alone in the kitchen, and Alex dutifully put the rest of the mugs away and returned the breadbin to its home in the pantry.
“He’s rather fond of you, isn’t he?” I asked.
“Boris?” Alex smiled. “Someone in the house has to be.”
I rolled my eyes and perched on one of the stools. “You say it as though everyone hates you. I know for a fact that isn’t true.”
“No, but they aren’t my friends, either. That much I know for a fact.” He sat down, leaving an empty stool between us. “It’s not exactly easy, especially when my focus is on the estate lands and not the inside of the house right now.”
“That’s a lot of work.” I sympathised with him—I knew how hard Gabi’s dad worked to maintain their estate lands, and it wasn’t nearly as big as what Alex had to manage. “Oh, this is for you.” I slid the café bag towards him.
He frowned at me. “For me?”
“Yes.”
He was still frowning.
“You look confused. Has nobody ever brought you anything before?” I raised my eyebrows. “I was collared by Maggie, so I thought I’d ask her what you like. So here.”
Slowly, he opened the bag and pulled out two huge polystyrene tubs of soup, plus a small box. “Soup?”
“Potato, leek, and bacon, and…” I paused, biting the inside of my cheek. “And bean and tomato!”
“And the box?”
“A fresh cream éclair.”
He opened the box to peek in, then looked over at me. “And you got this for me?”
“Well, in the interest of being honest, she would only let me pay for the éclair,” I replied. “I think she wanted to get rid of the soup. She said it would be good for three days in the fridge, so that’s on her.” I held up my hands. “If you get a dodgy stomach, don’t blame me for it.”
“Duly noted.” He paused. “Thank you, Addy. Truly. This was very kind of you.” Alex reached over and rested his hand on top of mine, and the warmth of his palm seeped through my skin, sending a fissure of delight over me.
Bad.
Bad, Adelaide.
This was not something we were going to entertain.
Not after those damn dreams where my hand was the most innocent thing he touched.
I cleared my throat and slid my hand from under his. “You’re welcome. Do you want to talk about what happened with your mum?”
“No, but I do wish to hear more about your visit to the café. More specifically, the cross-stitch meeting at the pub. Can you even cross-stitch?”
“No.” I sipped my tea. “I’m a very proficient sewer, but cross-stitching? Crochet? Knitting? Those things have always eluded me. I think I only agreed to attend so I didn’t appear rude.”
“Don’t worry. Maggie is the best cross-stitcher I’ve ever seen, and Millie won’t steer you wrong, either. We went to school together.”
“Oh, did you?” I wiggled my eyebrows.
“PriFlorence school, Adelaide.” He laughed and leaned back. “Although we did have a wedding planned when we were eight, but the pretend priest didn’t show up. Turned out he was marrying her to someone else.”
“The audacity.”
“I know. Childhood weddings were quite traumatic.”
“Speak for yourself. At my playground wedding when I was seven, I was stood up and found him plaiting Annabelle Lewis’s hair behind the frog pond.”
“The worst. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“I’m sorry you had to see Millie marry a random boy.”
“Thank you. I bet she regrets it now.”
I grinned. “Why? Because you’re a duke?”
He flicked his collar. “Well, not to be that person, but…”
I burst out laughing and leaned forwards on the counter, burying my face in my hands. “Humble, you are.”
“Settle down, Yoda. I’m merely saying it as it is.”
“Oh, shut up!” I shoved him in the arm and shook my head while I laughed.
I was going to ignore just how tense his arm was beneath my fingers, thank you very much.
Alex met my gaze, and his eyes shone with a silent laughter I wished I could hear in reality. “I will not. Now, tell me more about your trip to the café. I want to know.”