Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Aha. This was why he wasn’t at the protest.
He was working for the enemy.
I held up a hand. “’Sup, you dirty traitor? Do I need to light a candle near your shed until you see reason?”
Oliver grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth. “Excuse her. She’s a bit hyper. About Jennie?”
Bruce rubbed his forehead. “Ah. I see. She’s waiting in the hallway for you to return, my lord.”
“Perfect. I’ll get this one inside before she really does get arrested today.”
“I rth get rest!” I said into Oliver’s palm as he dragged me inside.
Translation: I won’t get arrested.
“Sorry, I don’t speak insane,” he replied. “Ah, Jennie, please show Rose to the guest room you prepared earlier. Have clothes been laid out for her?”
Jennie, who was dressed in a simple black uniform that reminded me of hotel housekeepers, bowed her head. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ll take the lady there now.”
“She’s no lady,” Bruce grumbled.
“I il en ooh, ol an!” I glared at Bruce.
Translation: I’ll end you, old man.
“Can’t you keep your hand there, Your Grace?” Bruce asked Oliver. “She’s much more palatable like this.”
“Is ose ahoo,” I muttered.
Translation: this is abuse.
Abuse, I tell you.
Abuse.
Oliver sighed. “Jennie, please take good care of her. And don’t let her wander off. God only knows what trouble she’ll get into here if she’s unsupervised.”
I shoved his hand away from my mouth and put some distance between us. “I’m not a child!”
He leant in with a grin and whispered, “Oh, I know.”
This was the worst day of my life.
Jennie cleared her throat. “Miss, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
“Thank you, Jennie.” I sniffed. “At least someone here is nice to me.”
She smiled warmly, and I paused to poke my tongue out at Oliver before following her up the ornate sweeping staircase. She guided me to a room where she opened the door and lowered her head. “There’s a fully stocked bathroom through that door to the left, and there are some clothes on the bed for you, miss. If you ring this bell when you’re ready, I’ll take you to the duke’s office.”
I scratched the side of my jaw. “Is it the same room he was using before?”
“Pardon me?”
“Oliver’s office. I’ve been there before.”
Jennie blinked, then blushed. “Oh—oh.”
Oh, dear.
It seemed that she had the wrong idea.
“Yes, miss! His Grace has used the same office since he arrived in Hanbury.”
“Then thank you, but I won’t need to call for you. The stairs are down the hall and to the left, is that right?”
She nodded. “I will inform the duke. Please take your time. I will fetch your belongings and leave them on the bed for you.”
“Thank you, Jennie.”
She bowed out of the room, closing the door behind her, and I peered around.
It was nice.
Exactly what I imagined a bedroom inside a four-hundred-year-old manor house looked like, to be honest. Not to mention it was clearly a guest room. Despite how beautiful and fairytale-like it was, there was no hint of warmth or personality in here whatsoever.
Nice… but sad.
I shrugged it off and poked my head into the bathroom. “Holy moly,” I breathed, staring at the giant bathtub in front of the window. It overlooked the back garden that was full of flowering shrubbery, a place I knew all too well. The rose bushes there had given me more than one thorny scratch in the past, and I was the one who’d co-ordinated the planting of the peonies along the path with the daughter of one of the late duke’s friends.
What was her name again?
Eleanor?
Ellie?
Gabrielle?
Hm.
No idea. I’d been too preoccupied by the thought that the ornery old bastard had any friends at all to engage my brain enough to remember something like a name.
I waved away those useless thoughts and peered at the shelves. As Jennie had said, they were fully stocked, and they were fully stocked with the expensive stuff, too.
Something told me this was his mother’s doing, not Oliver’s.
Well, whatever it was, I was going to make use of it. There was no telling if I’d ever find myself in such a luxurious bathroom ever again, so there was no way I wasn’t going to lie here for the next forty-five minutes and make myself at home.
I would need something to relieve the stress of having to deal with Oliver again.
This man was unhinged.
He’d lost his ever-loving fucking mind, and God only knew I wanted to beat him with my protest sign until he found it again.
What the fuck was he thinking, giving me his clothes?
Not only were the joggers far too big for me, but it wasn’t as if I had a bra to go under his white bloody shirt. Nor could I walk about this McMansion in his shirt with no bra.
What kind of impression would I make on the poor buggers who had to work for the unreasonable git? That was before I even considered Old Man Bruce. I’d never live it down if he saw me like this.