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“Anyway, I’m Esme. Technically it’s Esme, Duchess of Windermere, I suppose. Some people put a ‘dowager’ in there, but I think that makes me sound old, and I’m nothing of the sort.” Her eyes never stopped twinkling brightly. “And this is Vincent van Goat.”
Vincent van Goat.
“Ellie Aarons, Your Grace.”
“Sod that. Just call me Esme. I get enough of that pomp when I have to go to those fancy dinners. Nice food at Buckingham Palace, though,” she mused. “Who’s your furry friend?”
“Oh.” I righted Winston in my arms. “This is Sir Winston Purrchill.”
Esme burst into laughter, throwing her head back. “That’s brilliant. I see you have a love for puns like I do. Vincent’s girlfriend is called Selena Goatmez. I got the names from my friend, Cat, in Somerset.”
Selena Goatmez.
“I… am a fan,” I agreed. “Life is a little brighter with a pun or two.”
“I wholeheartedly agree with you. Oh, and sorry about that frog. My grandson told me you struggled to find the key.”
“Your grandson?” I paused. “Ah, the man I spoke to earlier. He didn’t introduce himself.”
“I don’t suppose he did, the grumpy git.”
I fought back a laugh.
“Well, his name is Max, and he likes to think he’s in charge around here. He’s sadly mistaken. That’s me.” She winked at me.
“So… is he the duke? Or is your son?”
“Max is,” Esme replied, answering the unspoken question. “It’s just me and him.”
I nodded in understanding. So, his parents weren’t around anymore—it was really none of my business, and I wasn’t going to ask such a personal question. That didn’t stop me wondering, though, and the author in me wanted to know.
Damn it.
It made it hard to be a nice human when I was so curious.
Still, I kept the burning question locked up inside.
“Well, I won’t bother you any longer,” Esme said. “I just wanted to introduce myself, and I shall tell that bloody grandson of mine that he’s to do the same the next time he sees you.” She reached forwards and scratched Winston under the chin, something he very much enjoyed if the closing of his eyes was anything to go by. “Gorgeous boy,” she cooed. “If you find yourself in need of conversation, Ellie, I’d be happy to talk books with you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“And of course you’ll visit with my book club while you’re here, won’t you?”
Oh, no. I wasn’t good at public speaking.
Well, I did it, and I was quite good at it, but I didn’t like to do it.
“How many people are we talking?”
“Just four of us. Goodness, I barely like May, Dawn, and Susie, never mind anyone else.” She sniffed. “We’re meeting next week. I’ll make sure you get the details.”
It didn’t sound like I had a choice.
“I would love to come,” I replied, only half-lying.
“You’re a dreadful liar, but now you’ve said it, you have to come.” She grinned and stepped back. “I shall leave you to get settled now, Ellie, dear. But it was lovely to meet you and Sir Winston Purrchill. Vincent, let’s go.” She tugged the leash and pulled the goat away before he could decimate a patch of irises, and the last thing I heard was her grumbling about him eating all her hard work across the estate and that was why he had to be on a leash.
I looked down at Winston with a smile. It looked like his soulmate was a goat.
