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)
Susan gasped and pushed off the fence, then dropped into a humble curtsey. “Your Grace. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“What are you doing?” I said, staring at her. “You only curtsey for royalty, you daft potato.”
Susan straightened. “Dukes can be royal.”
“Yes, but the Duke of Hanbury is not. You don’t need to curtsey.”
Isa kicked me. “Shh. Don’t upset the handsome rich man.”
“Why not? If I piss him off, that makes you look better in front of the ‘handsome rich man,’ doesn’t it?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I’m doing you a favour.”
Bruce wandered into my view and bent down in front of me, meeting my gaze. “Rose, have you considered that you may have a better relationship with this duke if you don’t set off a string of verbal bombs in your first meeting?”
“Ah, Brucey baby, you assume I want a better relationship. I’m quite happy with the one we’ve had for the last six months, and I’m rather perturbed that the radio silence has now been ruined. It’s like when you hear Mariah Carey on the radio for the first time on November first.”
Isa tilted her head to the side. “You mean that shiver you get down your spine at the knowledge you won’t feel peace again for the next several weeks?”
“Exactly.” I pointed a courgette at Bruce. “That sense of impending doom.”
He took it from me and bonked me on the top of the head. “Rose Matthews, I raised you better than this.”
“You didn’t raise me at all, you crazy old man.”
“Who taught you how to use a chainsaw?”
“Oh, you’re right. Should I get it and show you my skills, you beer-guzzling freeloader?”
“I’d like to see you try, you potty-mouthed whippersnapper,” Bruce shot back, hitting me again with the courgette. “Now get up and remember your manners before you scare His Grace off.”
“That’s not the threat you think it is.”
“Rose. I’ll call your mother.”
I rubbed my hand down my face. That was, though. “Low blow, Brucey. Fine. You win.”
Look.
I knew I was being childish. I knew I was being rude.
I just didn’t care. I had never in my life cared for the Duke of Hanbury, and pigs would have to sprout wings and perform Swan Lake in the West End before such a thing would come to pass.
After all, nothing good came from new people moving to Hanbury.
Especially not those sharply-dressed city slickers who couldn’t tell a turnip from a turkey.
I took Bruce’s offered hand and got to my feet with an, “Oomph,” and stepped around him to meet the new duke. “Rose Matth…”
Oh.
Oh, no.
I was in trouble. Big trouble.
Why, you ask? Well, that was because I knew the handsome, rich gentleman standing in front of me.
I knew those slightly widening dark blue eyes. I knew that rich brown hair, that chiselled jaw, and those broad shoulders. I knew those bow-shaped lips that were currently curling themselves into a smirk of recognition.
Yes.
His face was very familiar to me.
Two weeks ago, I’d sat on it and ridden it like a feral jockey.
There were six billion people in this world. Why the hell was the new duke the guy I wham, bam, thank you ma’am’d two weeks ago?
Literally.
I’d never fucked and run in my life, but I’d done just that with this man. I hadn’t given him my name or my number, nor had I taken his. In fact, the only thing I’d left behind was a hairband, and that was only because he’d been in the shower when I’d made my great escape, and I couldn’t retrieve it without being a giant pervert.
And really, more fool me. The man’s body was a work of art.
Goddamn it. This wasn’t the time or place for such reveries.
“Holy shit,” Isa stage whispered to Susan from behind me. “He’s so handsome even the great ice queen has been silenced.”
“Shut your mouth,” I snapped over my shoulder, quickly turning back to the new duke. I plastered a smile on my face. “Rose Matthews. Head of the allotment committee.”
Mr Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma’am stepped forwards and clasped my hand in his, coming a little too close for comfort. “It’s nice to meet you, Rose,” he said, lowering his dumb, handsome face closer to mine. “Do you have a sister?”
I blinked. “A brother.”
“Hmm. Strange. You look an awful lot like the young lady I met in this area two weeks ago.” His lips curved into a dirty smile.
You. Bastard.
That was his way of telling me he recognised me, wasn’t it?
“Well, I am somewhat of a local legend, so perhaps someone has taken inspiration from my style,” I said. “It is rather iconic.”
Oliver’s gaze roved over my face, and my cheeks heated under his scrutiny. “Does that include the mud smeared all over your face, or is that an extra just for today’s meeting?”
“That’s called war paint around here. You’ll get your turn to don the uniform if you pass your hazing.” I slipped my hand out of his and stepped back to put some distance between us. “Well, I’d love to say it was nice to meet you, but I’m no liar. Thank you for your time, Mr de Havilland.”