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)
“You’re right.” He rubbed his face and looked at me. “I’ll trust your decision for now. I’ll just say one more thing before I drop it: that woman has been on your case since the moment she laid eyes on you. She’s vandalised your property, organised a protest in which she ran through the village wearing nothing but lettuce leaves, and run an online campaign to smear your name as an uncaring, cruel man who should be run out of Hanbury and shit on by a thousand one-legged seagulls. God knows what else she has up her sleeve.”
I grinned. “I know. I don’t just love her for her looks, you know.”
“You’re down so bad it’s a miracle you can stand up,” he said, sighing as he stood. He offered his arm to Mum. “Come on, Eleanor. Let’s go and pretend we don’t know him.”
Mum giggled as she took his arm. “Millie won’t get jealous of me being your date, will she?”
“I think she wants you to adopt her,” he said drolly. “No worries there.”
“Ooh, daughters everywhere!” She laughed, throwing her head back. She quickly turned and pointed at me. “Behave yourself tonight. Don’t get caught in any positions that could compromise Rose becoming my daughter-in-law.”
I didn’t have it in me to argue anymore, so I simply said, “Yes, Mother,” and followed them out of the penthouse.
Believe me, that was the last thing I wanted to do.
Especially if she was already planning to end things.
There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let her do that without us having a proper conversation. And even then, it was doubtful if I’d be able to let her go.
Luke was right.
27
* * *
ROSE
The Green-Eyed Gardener
Isa steepled her fingers in front of her face and sat forwards, doing her best impression of Mr Burns from The Simpsons. “How fucking dare he?”
I stared at the tablet screen between us and swallowed. “It’s just… part of his life there, right?”
“Part of his life?” she squeaked, reaching out and swiping to the next picture in the article. “Look at this! Look at how close she is to him! After all his fussing yesterday about you being close to another man, he’s out there at some fancy rich people party with women all over him!”
“They’re not all over him,” I argued, albeit weakly. “And it’s not really my business anyway. I was just humouring him yesterday. We’re not in a relationship. He’s free to cosy up to anyone he likes.”
Although the brunette in this particular picture in front of me who was whispering in Oliver’s ear was really pissing me off.
“I don’t think so! If he’s going to tell you not to even look at another man, where does he get off touching other women? He’s kissing this one’s cheek!” She swiped to another photo. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, and this is not good for the goose or the gander!”
I pressed the button to lock the tablet and pushed it away from me. “Those are his people. His circle. His friends, maybe even family. Cheek kisses are acceptable greetings, you know.”
“Looks more like an old flame than anything!” She stubbornly unlocked it again and read it. “Yes, here you are! ‘Miss Alexandra Beaufort, once rumoured to be the childhood fiancée of The Duke of Hanbury, was also in attendance and spent considerable time with the duke and his mother. Given their previous relationship, could wedding bells be ringing for the de Havillands?’ What a load of old tosh!”
“Stop.” I pushed the tablet down and stared at her. “They grew up together, and he sees her as a sister. Their fathers were best friends. I doubt there’s anything to it.”
“Why are you being so defensive? Why aren’t you upset?” She sniffed, looking at me sadly. “Oh. You are upset.”
I jerked my head around and stared out of the window. The branches of the tree outside smacked against the window as wind rustled through its leaves, and rain occasionally hammered the window as the breeze caught it.
There was barely a cloud in the sky yesterday, now we had torrential rain and wind.
Yesterday, I’d been laughing and joking, happy that I’d even been able to talk to Oliver just once, never mind twice on the phone.
Now, there was a hollow sensation in the pit of my stomach.
What a difference a day could make.
“It’s not that I’m not upset,” I said quietly, unmoving. “It’s just that I don’t have much of a right to be. We’re not in a relationship. I have no right to tell him what he can and can’t do or who he can’t or can’t touch or see. Even if we were in a relationship, I wouldn’t have that right.”
“Even after what he said to you yesterday?”
A small smile crept onto my face. “He didn’t mean it seriously. He said it because he knew it would piss me off.”