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“Well…erm…”
“Pea. Tell me you’re not standing at the front door.”
“Haha! No, of course not. I’m at…well. I’m at Heathrow.”
The Count growled something that could have been a swear word or could have been, “Typical Pea.” To be fair, people often used them interchangeably.
“Book into a hotel. I will send you my driver’s details. He will collect you in the morning.”
“Oh, Count! Thank you, thank you! You won’t regret this, I promise.”
“Hm.”
“There’s just one more thing…” said Pea, eyeing the stacked trolleys. “You might need to send a van too.”
Leo
Leo, the Duke of Cumbria, stood at the window of his large, dark-panelled study with his hands clasped behind his back and watched the dark blue Mercedes pull up the driveway to the house. It was followed by a large white van.
The two wings of Thornley Castle protruded from the front of the house, wrapping around the entrance like the jaws of some beast (so Pea had once told him). Leo’s study was in the east wing, and he had a perfect view of the car as it stopped on the curved drive before the steps and the driver got out to open the back passenger door.
The driver never made it. Just as he reached for the handle, the passenger door was flung open from the inside, hitting the unfortunate man square in the stomach. A slim young woman with a mass of brown curly hair launched herself out of the car, exclaiming loudly in distress. In her haste to reach the winded driver, she promptly stumbled, tripped, and took him down to the gravel with her.
Typical Pea.
Never, in all his thirty-two years, had Leo met a more infuriating person. She was a literal walking disaster. But at least for once she was wearing shoes.
Leo let out a long-suffering sigh and strode for the entrance hall.
Pea was limping through the front door on the arm of Leo’s butler Kethnick when he arrived. Leo watched as she flopped down onto a priceless seventeenth century carved wooden chest and toed off her shoes with a sigh of relief, as though she was removing stilettos after a five-mile hike, not a pair of…flip flops.
“Your Grace,” his butler said. “Lady Ashley has arrived.”
Her head snapped up, and she brightened as she saw him crossing the hall toward her. “Count! You won’t believe what just happened getting out of the car—”
“I do believe it. I happened to be watching.”
She flushed. “Golly. Nowthat’sembarrassing.”
“I thinkpredictablemight be more apt thanembarrassing.”
Pea frowned a little, some of her brightness dimming, and Leo secretly cursed himself. “Well…” she said. “I hope the driver is OK.”
“He will be. And…are you?”
“Yes, of course.” But even as she spoke, she reached down absently to rub her ankle with a wince. As she bent, the hem of her light summer dress—a gaudy, shapeless thing made of multiple patchwork African prints—lifted and revealed her knee.
“You’re bleeding.” Leo started forward, then stopped, calling to his butler. “Bring a first aid kit.”
Pea frowned down at her knee. “Belay that order, darling Kethnick,” she told the butler. “It’s only a graze.” She licked her thumb and carelessly wiped away the small smear of blood.
Leo ground his jaw. If she got gangrene, Edward could damn well blame her, not him.
She sat back against the stone wall with a yawn then smiled up at him. Her legs dangled loosely from the knee, feet not quite touching the floor, heels lightly drumming against the antique chest. She looked ridiculously young. The freckles didn’t help. There were far more across her nose and cheeks than he remembered. The African sun had bronzed her skin. And her brown hair seemed to have golden highlights. Normally, it was the same deep shade as her brother’s. Unlike Edward, her eyes were grey, not green. He wouldn’t have liked it if she looked at him with Edward’s eyes.
“My saviour,” she told Leo, her smile tilting playfully as she looked up at him. Her eyes might be different to Edward’s but she had a similar need to tease.
“Kethnick will show you to your room. You must be tired.”
