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The one in charge.
Why the hell was I talking about porn with him? Just because he’d decided we were friends last night didn’t mean I could bethatunhinged around him.
What kind of porn would be filmed in an aristocratic country house like Buckley Manor, though? Regency porn? Was that a thing? Maybe a kinky recreation of the life of Henry the Eighth?
Ooh. No. Let’s not go there.
Regency porn was something I could get on board with, though.
If there was ever a smutty rendition ofPride and Prejudicewith the right man playing Mr Darcy, I could absolutely see it being filmed here.
Theodore knocked a pattern against a large door, and it opened a few seconds later to reveal a man somewhere in his sixties. “Ben, is lunch ready?”
The man lowered his head. “Yes, it’ll be served in the Red Room when you’re ready.”
Red Room?
Hold on.
I’d heard this one before.
And this bastard told me they didn’t film pornos here…
“Good. This is Chloe St. James, my executive assistant. Chloe, this is Benedict Chalmers, the Buckley Manor butler.” Theodore motioned between us.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss St. James.” He turned to me and bowed his head in the same manner as he had to Theodore. “I’ve heard many wonderful things about you from His Grace and the rest of the family.”
Oh. Um.
This was strange.
“I’m sure they’ve vastly exaggerated my good points, Mr Chalmers,” I replied. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Please, call me Ben.” He stepped aside. “Please follow me. Would you like lunch immediately or should we bring it out after you’ve shown Miss St. James the rest of the manor?”
“We’ll eat first, Ben. Thank you,” Theodore said, putting his hand on my back again and pushing me through the door.
“Of course, my lord.”
My lord.
How the other half live, eh?
And this wasn’t just the other half. The ‘Other Half’ was the rich, but the aristocracy seemed to be somewhere above that.
More like the One Percent.
An elite, untouchable bubble of something more than money.
History.
Maybe I was a bit weird, but history was sexier than money.
And the man with his hand currently clasped around my wrist, dragging me through his very opulent, historical family manor house, had both of those things in abundance.
Hmm.
Why was I even thinking about that?
